Dealing with the Log Jam
It wasn't quite two years ago, March of 2005 to be exact, that I sent my daughter off to stay with her sister for two nights so that I could surprise her with a new bedroom. She had been keeping her teeny tiny size-of-a-walk-in-closet of a room neat and tidy to earn her way to the larger bedroom that her college-age sister wasn't using. About a week before she was going to get to switch, I made my move. I'd purchased a log bed at a yard sale, a horse-theme comforter set from a catalog, and then had some paint mixed to match. I painted, moved and organized all of her things, whipped up a cool burlap bulletin board and other rustic decor, and waited for the delighted squeals I knew were coming. It worked and it was a lot of fun for both of us.
Fast forward to Wednesday afternoon when I again dropped her off to spend a night at her sister's house. But this time the motive was quite different. This time, unbeknownst to her, I was performing a rescue operation. Her room was stuck, and a stuck room is indicative of other things that are stuck as well. It was time to loosen the log jam and get things flowing.
Within the first five hours I had completely filled our garbage receptacle that had been virtually empty, and I had only made it about 2/3 of the way around the room. I had a pile of give aways, another of things headed to various places in the house, a "special memories" collection, and another of clothes headed for the laundry. The more I dug, the more I knew how much I was needed there. This was beyond my twelve year old's ability to resolve.
I worked until late that night, the piles increasing in size, and my head-shaking increasing in frequency. I spent nine hours of the next day washing, folding, hauling, wiping, organizing, dusting, and anticipating the dawn of a new day. My back hurt and my brain was decidedly frazzled from having to make snap decisions on literally hundreds, if not a thousand items in such a short period of time. But I knew it would pay off, so I kept at it.
Some might say that I should just allow the consequences to follow the choices that brought the room into this condition to begin with. I am a big believer in natural consequences whenever possible (but not with a two year old and a busy street!) The natural consequences had already come along. Where were the dance shorts when it came time for the competition? Where is the favorite shirt? How come there aren't any clean socks in the drawer? Where is a ruler to complete the math assignment? It was a source of confusion for her, and a source of frustration for me. Something needed to shift.
to be continued . . .
Cristi
Fast forward to Wednesday afternoon when I again dropped her off to spend a night at her sister's house. But this time the motive was quite different. This time, unbeknownst to her, I was performing a rescue operation. Her room was stuck, and a stuck room is indicative of other things that are stuck as well. It was time to loosen the log jam and get things flowing.
Within the first five hours I had completely filled our garbage receptacle that had been virtually empty, and I had only made it about 2/3 of the way around the room. I had a pile of give aways, another of things headed to various places in the house, a "special memories" collection, and another of clothes headed for the laundry. The more I dug, the more I knew how much I was needed there. This was beyond my twelve year old's ability to resolve.
I worked until late that night, the piles increasing in size, and my head-shaking increasing in frequency. I spent nine hours of the next day washing, folding, hauling, wiping, organizing, dusting, and anticipating the dawn of a new day. My back hurt and my brain was decidedly frazzled from having to make snap decisions on literally hundreds, if not a thousand items in such a short period of time. But I knew it would pay off, so I kept at it.
Some might say that I should just allow the consequences to follow the choices that brought the room into this condition to begin with. I am a big believer in natural consequences whenever possible (but not with a two year old and a busy street!) The natural consequences had already come along. Where were the dance shorts when it came time for the competition? Where is the favorite shirt? How come there aren't any clean socks in the drawer? Where is a ruler to complete the math assignment? It was a source of confusion for her, and a source of frustration for me. Something needed to shift.
to be continued . . .
Cristi
posted by Cristi at
7:48 PM
2 Comments:
I'm excited to hear how this worked out. I have the same dilemma with my teenager. Her room is disorganized, she has demonstrated that she really can't figure out how to fix it, and she needs my help. I have hesitated thinking that my intervention would only enable her to keep cluttering, but you're right, the sorting and discarding is something she is really not able to do.
Yes, I will break up my own mental log jam and write the conclusion. It's a good one! Thanks for helping me break up the block! Cristi
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home