Thoughts Happen

Giving Up Ground in the Kitchen

Things are migrating in my kitchen. Ever since we gave Daughter the job of unloading the dishwasher, things have started shifting from their usual spots and showing up in other locations. Spatulas, graters, paring knives and measuring spoons do not necessarily end up in the places they used to occupy in the gadget drawer. Glasses, which used to be neatly lined up by height in the glassware shelves, now mingle with each other in a mishmash of sizes. The teacups, which used to be tucked away behind the gravy boat in the corner cabinet, are front and center in front of the ice cream bowls. And don’t even ask about the Tupperware.

When I first noticed that Daughter does not Do Things the Way I Would Do Them, I tried a gentle correction every time I noticed something in an unusual spot. But it was a losing battle. Like squeezing a balloon, I would temporarily enforce one object’s designated area, only to find something new had migrated.

I had a choice. I could either come down hard and supervise how she put every single item away (thereby defeating the purpose of delegating the job), or I could admit that it was time to give up some ground in the kitchen and resign myself to the fact that the place where the Dishwasher Unloader puts things is the place that they go.

I chose Option B. But I still didn’t feel comfortable about it. Why did this bother me so much? When I thought about it, I realized that the kitchen had been my sole domain for as long as I could remember. My husband certainly never had any desire to lay claim, so I let my organizing gene take over and felt a deep contentment when everything was in a logical and proper place.

Now I had to give up some of that autonomy, to be willing to share my territory if I was also going to share some of the responsibility. This is a skill I’m still developing, but I realize it is necessary.

I can’t say that it doesn’t frustrate me when I’m pawing unsuccessfully through the gadget drawer, saying, “where’s the %*#@ cake tester?” but eventually I find it, and although I grumble, I realize that giving up some ground in the kitchen is definitely worth it. I hate unloading the dishwasher.

Photo courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/abbyladybug/ / CC BY-NC 2.0

The Not-So-Perfect Christmas

 My mantra for my personal life this year has been, “It doesn’t have to be perfect, just good enough.” While that’s a hard concept for a recovering perfectionist to wrap her head around, it’s stood me in good stead when I’ve remembered to apply it. I’m thinking of it particularly this year as we get ready to host Christmas for my family. This isn’t the first time our home has been Holiday Home Base, so I’m a little more relaxed about it than previous years. I don’t feel I have anything to prove as a hostess, and my main concern is that everyone is comfortable, well-fed, and enjoys each other’s company. To keep my goal in mind I find it helps to acknowledge the ways our Christmas will be not-so-perfect, and then let them go.

• The house is not spotless, but it’s clean enough
• Our meals will not be gourmet feasts, but I’m accommodating both a high-protein and a vegetarian diet with tasty yet healthy food
• The Moravian Star is still in its box, and we’ve gone another year without outside lights, but the house is reasonably decorated and the tree looks beautiful
• We do not have any plans for holiday festivities, but we’ll have plenty of puzzles and reading material at home
• Not everyone is as healthy as they could be, but it looks like we’ll all be together for another year, and for that I am truly grateful.

Sometimes it’s hard to let go of that Perfect Christmas ideal, especially so if you're spending the holiday away from family or without a special loved one. But, to paraphrase yoga instructor Cyndi Lee, “While your Christmas will never be perfect, at the same time, it already is.” 

 I know this is a busy (understatement) time of year, but I’d be interested to hear comments about how your Christmas was “good enough,” this year. 

 Wishing you a very Merry Not-So-Perfect Christmas, -Louise

Photo courtesy  of http://www.flickr.com/photos/jumpyjames/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Am I Smarter than a 5th Grader?

When I saw a familiar gleam in her eye I knew my 5th grader had hit on one of her patented ideas. My mom’s birthday was coming up, and my daughter was planning what to make for her present. She has mastered the art of the homemade gift and always crafts something unique and personal in that I-made-it-myself way. We’d been kicking ideas around in the kitchen when she got her inspiration.

“I’ve got all the supplies I need in my room,” she offered coyly.

I stared blankly.

“The corks, remember?” she prompted.

Oh, yeah. My mom had been wanting to make a wine-cork trivet like one she’d seen at a friend’s house for some years now. She persuaded us to save her our corks, but always ran into some obstacle when trying to recreate the trivet. She’s a woman of many talents, but crafty-ness has never been Mom’s strong suit.

We’d kept saving corks, though, year after year, until we had several big bags of them, which I eventually passed on to our daughter to keep in her under-bed box of miscellaneous-supplies-that-might-come-in-handy-someday. I just couldn’t bear to throw them out.

Now I’m wondering just how my daughter is planning on creating this mythical wine-cork trivet. I admire her ambition, but admittedly am a bit skeptical. “All I need is some cardboard and the hot glue gun,” she says.

I persuaded her to let me find something a little sturdier for the base after envisioning the catalog-worthy project which had inspired Mom, and came home with a shadow box frame from Michael’s a few days later that we pressed into service.

From there it came together remarkably fast, with very little input from me, I’ll add. A few layers of cardboard in the bottom to prop up the corks, a flurry of hot-gluing, and the project was finished. The corks weren’t all the same size and there were some gaps at the bottom of the rows, but, Voila, one cork trivet completed.

A week later Mom opened her present. “Oh, wonderful! You finished the project I was never able to do!” She was so happy and appreciative of the thoughtfulness that it didn’t matter that it wasn’t a perfect replica.

This isn’t the first time my daughter has charged ahead with a project that, if I were to do it, would be fraught with nitpicking over details and handwringing over the One Best Way to achieve perfection, all resulting in a good deal of procrastination and guilt.

I’ve mastered division of fractions and the finer points of grammar, but in some regards my 5th grader is definitely smarter than I. Better a slightly imperfect project gets completed than a perfect one sits in a dusty corner of my brain.