Nathalie's Notes

Quitting baseboards

"I'm done doing baseboards!" I declared to a friend the other day. This, of course, implied that there was a time I ever cleaned my baseboards. (Picture The Office's Kelly Kapoor giving the slight head shake).

That being said, I was wondering why I was feeling so wiped out and like everything was taking just a little more effort each time. I figured my super-belly had something to do with my limited ability to reach things but a conversation at the supermarket put things into a rather alarming perspective yesterday.

"How many more weeks till you're due?"

"Oh, it's still months, not weeks."

"Really?" I braced myself for the "sure it's not twins?" comment.

"Yeah, January."

"So that's 8 weeks."

"What?"

Blank stare.

"Oh my God. I have to go!"

And I've been making lists ever since.

Nesting the ADHD way

Today's word count: 0

I want to organize everything. Today. So far I've managed to make a lot of piles and lists. I think this is some ADHD form of nesting. Also, procrastinating. I switched gears this week, from my novel to the column, and am having trouble getting back into it again. The whole thing started with Matt bringing home almost all the rest of the boxes from storage. Eight total, I think. The rest of them will fit in the cab of his truck!!! I don't know any sports terminology but I'd suppose that's something like the home stretch, right? You'll be glad to know I found some of my favorite shirts and pants. Maybe I'll fit into them some time next year. Maybe. And, thank God, I packed away boxes and boxes of tea, all expired now and empty spice bottles. Really? The question that kept running through my mind as I unpacked this week was: "What in the hell was I thinking?" And then I remembered two things. 1) I was pregnant at the time with Sam, and 2) I genuinely believed I'd be unpacked again before the baby came; I guess I just didn't know which baby!

Adventures in being how we used to be ...

When you find yourself screaming, "Being spontaneous is stressful!" you know time has changed you and it might be time to re-evaluate your priorities.

Yeah, it was a proud moment for me when Matt announced he wanted to take an impromptu family camping trip the next day. He didn't want to plan anything, just go. Instead of getting excited about the possibility, I totally flipped. 

That's just not how I roll. I make lists. Then I make lists of lists. I pack in my head for awhile before actually putting anything in a suitcase. I'm not the kind of person that leaves town on a day's notice. Sure, I used to be, but that was prior to my days of traveling 6 months pregnant with a toddler and a 70-pound chocolate puppy.

So, I'll be unplugged for a few days and back next week with much to share about this little Hardy adventure!

Good thing I kept that

Matt came home the other day and surprised me with 12 boxes to be unpacked. Yes, we still have stuff in storage (luckily we're not paying for it but it's been 2 years!!!). Some of you might say if I haven't used it in two years I don't need it. But you know what I'd say back to that.

I will admit, though, that some of this stuff I probably could've pitched the first time around instead of carefully packing, moving, storing and then unpacking them. For instance, the box of nylons with runs in them and belts that will never fit again. Or, my wedding planning binder from eight years ago with tabs for everything you can imagine. And receipts. Then there's the memorabilia from our wedding. I kept some of the favors my friends and I made. Unfortunately they were chocolate. That was a fun one to unpack. Also about 2 dozen little envelopes and reply cards printed with an address I haven't lived at in, you guessed it, eight years.

There is, believe it or not, still another entire bin of weddingish things. I'll do that next and let you know what other sticky, very important goodies I find.

Mocking, heavy-sighing and wish-I-was-doing-something-elses aside, it does feel awesome to get rid of some of this stuff. Matt thinks I could be getting rid of even more but he is wrong.

Dusting Pandora's Box

I'm back to shining my sink. Some of you know what that means and you are laughing, perhaps at me. I know house cleaning isn't complicated but I manage to make it stressful and end up doing everything kind of half-assed so I never quite get that satisfaction some people speak of when the "chores are done." I'm starting to realize there is no such thing as having your chores done (unless you're eight). It's more like you have things you do on a regular basis to maintain some kind of order and that's good enough. And good enough is perfect by me.

The problem with the house keeping part of the stay-at-home/try-to-work-at-home mom gig, besides that I couldn't possibly narrow it down to just the one, is that it's one big dusty Pandora's box. Every time I tackle one project, it reveals another one long neglected. The never-ending remodel doesn't help either. Excuses aside, I kind of just suck at cleaning and I pretty much hate it. See how that's stressful since I have to do it throughout the day every day?

In all things in my life I've found that a shift in attitude makes all the difference. I might as well try it with the care and feeding of my family. I am 33 years old and I still act like someone else is going to come along and clean up after me. Unfortunately, everyone who lives here acts like that too.

A few years ago a friend turned me on to this concept of looking at cleaning as more of a blessing for your home and family than drudge work ... the quote "nothing says I love you like a clean toilet to puke in when you're sick" comes to mind. True, I suppose but it's been kind of a stretch for me to get there.

These days, I'm needing a system that works for me so I can work when I need to without feeling I should be doing ten other things instead and waiting until I'm too tired to get anything on the page. I think I've finally found it, but I'll keep you posted.

Uhhh...progress?

 

I know. It's hard to believe but this really is progress. A lot of it. First of all, it's all contained to one room for the first time in, well, years. Obviously I have a ways to go before this becomes the picture of serenity I hold in my mind! I was doing pretty good staying on task for awhile but then life happened. Sam got a fever and was sick and I'm packing and getting ready for our trip. One fine day though ...

Still slogging

Still slogging through those piles and piles over here. I can see parts of the top of my desk and I've emptied a few crates and boxes but there is still more to go. Lots more. The cool part is that for once I'm expecting to stay in this space for long enough to make doing it right matter.

I got a little grumpy the other day about how this is really messing up my writing time and I'm getting farther behind on my goals and projects. Then it dawned on me that making space and creating an environment I want to work in rather than run from is going to give my work a tremendous boost. So I keep going.

Piles of Files

Sunday kicked off another spurt of activity on our house project(s). Matt got the storage room that will become our master bedroom closet emptied and painted. The minor problem being that I'm the one who has to figure out where all the stuff goes during my Sam-free moments. Now that we know what the function of all our rooms is going to be, and we know how we live in our house, it's easier to decide what stays and what goes. Having no garage or storage space to speak of makes it even easier.

Still, though, I have such a hard time getting rid of things! I cringed when it became obvious that most of the boxes up there where full of my files, newspapers and, yes, magazines. Cringe.

Boxes full of: Pay stubs from every check of every job we've had since 1998; Files and files of notes from interviews for stories that ran ages ago; a user manual for every cell phone I've ever owned; drafts of stories I'd forgotten I'd started (that part was actually pretty fun to find).

I promised myself I'd do 15 minutes a day going through and purging those files until I had just the ones I want in my filing cabinets. Luckily, I got a huge head start today when Retta took Sam for the morning and I, for once, stayed focused on the task at hand. I did a lot of Google searches that started like this: "How long do I have to keep credit card statements? Phone and utility bills?" Because I had a copy of every bill I've paid since, you got it, 1998. Many, many of them where in one of several files labeled: "Things to file."

It was hard not to read every letter I came by and every story I'd started. But don't worry, I made a new pile for the stuff I want to read later.

Michael Jackson for Prez

 The worst part for me personally about Michael Jackson's recent passing is hearing his songs over and over again. It brings back awful memories. Sorry, A.

I know people who adored Michael Jackson and I can see why, he was as talented as he was tortured. I can't pretend to understand the man. All I can tell you is I got my butt kicked in Junior High because of him. Well, him and my mom.

I have no idea where my mom found them but my brother and I had matching bright red sweatshirts with "Michael Jackson for Prez" written across the front in "Thriller" font. They were exactly as hideous as they sound. I was already a pretty funny looking kid with short crooked hair, hairy arms and bizarre ideas about clothing. There was truly no shortage of nasty little nicknames for me before said sweatshirt appeared on the scene. But it was just too much for even the nicer mean kids to resist.

My most distinct memory, besides the basic spitting on my head, kicking me at the bus stop, etc., was when I was sitting by myself at one of those big, long cafeteria tables. Just me eating my lunch which most likely consisted of a mandarin and a salami and butter sandwich. You know the group of kids I'm talking about, the "cool" ones, decided to sit the same table. Before I knew it, they were laughing and all leaning to the left in order to push me off the table onto the floor.

I hated that sweatshirt. Reasonable or not, I blamed Michael.

Goodbye Project 365 Sticky Notes

From a young age I thought that whole "quitters never win" thing was a bunch of b.s. made up by parents to force their kids to stick with piano, ballet and tennis lessons that they hated - ahem.

Instead, I think trying something for awhile to see if it works for you is way better than never starting anything at all. That, to me, is failing.

All that is to say I made a liberating decision this morning to quit participating in Project 182.5, which for me has turned more into Project 365 Sticky Notes anyway.

My intention is to catch up to early June and call it Project 180 or something. I figure it still shows a slice of our day-to-day life but really? How many pictures of strawberries and the bath routine do I really need to take for posterity? The one picture, however, of Sam's "buggy" stained shirt next to a bottle of Spray-N-Wash, that I'm glad I have.

I'm glad I've done the project to this point because it was nice to look at the ordinary as meaningful. I am also so relieved to let it go and move on to other things.

Pregnancy seems to suck the creative right out of me. I told Matt the other day I feel like I've done nothing creative in the last, oh, 13 weeks. He said: "Well, I don't know, making a whole person seems kinda creative."

Love him. Except when I'm ticked that he's suffering from none of my symptoms beyond cravings for Snickers Ice Cream.

Thanks to you who read my notes. :)