FlyLady testimonial

I recently sent the following letter to FlyLady, the woman who started the internet group that has helped me get organized.

Dear FlyLady--
I'm finally writing my testimonial after thinking about it awhile. I joined a little more than a year ago after a friend mentioned you. Before I met my husband my house was never really spotless, but I could get it cleaned up when I needed to. I grew up moving around a lot, so I never collected a lot of clutter--I knew I'd have to carry those boxes of junk from place to place! When I met and married my husband (within seven weeks!) everything changed. He's a collector of books, records, videos, comics, newspapers, etc. and hates to throw away anything. My little house filled up to the brim with boxes and piles of books and papers and the accompanying dust bunnies. We added two dogs to the mix, multiplying the hair of my two cats! Then we had a baby! Our little house was filled with stuff and dirt and baby accessories. We had to carve a path through the house to get anywhere.

My daughter has some developmental disabilities- she has difficulty with eating, sleeping, motor skills, and she is severely autistic. This made our lives even more filled with chaos and CHAOS! At one point I realized that I am the Mommy, and I should start acting like one. This meant taking responsibility and providing a safe and orderly home for my curious little monkey.
When I joined, I had a feeling of panic about my house--how this wasn't how I had wanted to live and that things would never get any better. Your words of reassurance that it's okay not to be perfect, to take babysteps, and that blessings done imperfectly still are blessings really helped me get started. I couldn't do much of the regular routine stuff for a long time. I struggled with doing the dishes and shining the sink, and still do, but less time passes between washings now. I spent the first several months just slowly decluttering. I began to realize that my husband wasn't the only one contributing to the clutter! I've given countless bags of MY stuff to the local charities. I feel like everything I give away or throw away is weight lifted from my heart.

A few months ago, I realized that it was time to take the next step and actually start doing the weekly home blessings. I've been amazed at the difference. Every week it seems like less work! The dust isn't hard to clean up if it's only been there for a week!

My bathroom was a wreck--the wall behind the tub faucets was rotting away and moldy. Last summer I had the tile taken off, the wall fixed, and the tile replaced. It looked beautiful! I wanted it to stay that way, so after every shower I dry it with a towel, and I haven't had to clean it since! One of my daughter's therapists asked me how I keep my tiles so clean! I was stunned--someone asked ME how I keep something clean??? This was a new experience.

I felt so much more comfortable about my house that I invited my inlaws here for Thanksgiving. I planned and cleaned and prepared my new dining room (which had recently been a storage area/porch/breezeway) with curtains I ACTUALLY MADE, without panic! My guests raved about the pretty room and the delicious food.

I had resisted your insistence on wearing a good pair of tie-up shoes, but finally decided to try it. I found a pair of great shoes that are so comfy they feel like socks! Now when I wear other shoes I can't stand the discomfort! I have also been glad they are on when I need to step outside or go down into my still dirty basement. The other day your shoe rule was proven to be right. When I was dusting a picture on the wall, it came off of its poorly installed hook, and smashed to the floor, breaking the glass right at my feet. If I had been barefoot, I would likely have been hurt pretty badly. As it was, I was able to quickly clear up the mess before anyone else got injured! Thanks for insisting on the shoes!!!

My DD is now almost 3, and we have accepted her diagnosis and are living with more peace in terms of dealing with daily care issues, though we have the obligatory emergencies that all parents deal with. I feel as if you've taught me so much about being a grown up (at the age of 35!) and loving myself and my family by getting out of the dirty rut.

Oh--I almost forgot! My husband has even started doing some of his own decluttering! It really is better to live by example than to complain and nag.

I'm sorry this is so long-winded, but I had so many purple puddles to share! Thank you FlyLady!!!!
Finally Fluttering In Indy

Big girl!!!

Our little girl became a big girl tonight. We put her into her crib, and she proceeded to swing her leg over the side to climb out. We had been dreading this harbinger of the end of the crib. We knew it was coming, as the crib rail is rapidly approaching her belly button, and had talked about trying to make the transition in December when I'll be home most mornings. Well, tonight's leg swing put the gas pedal on the whole process. We put her back in the crib,turned off the light, and watched as she lifted the other leg over the side!

The light went back on as we rearranged her room and she wandered the house. The crib was too wide to roll out of her room, so we shoved it against the closet door. The mattress went onto the floor in the corner where the crib had been, in a vain attempt to pretend that everything is really still the same as it was the day we brought her home from the hospital. Grace immediately saw through our ruse, and spent the next 45 minutes wandering around the room, knocking things over, making vaguely complaining noises. She also employed her recently acquired skill of turning the doorknob to open the door. (It makes sense that she would figure out both how to escape the crib and how to escape her room in one week. No flies on her.) Fortunately for us all, Daddy had the foresight to place one of those baby security thingies on her doorknob, so she couldn't turn it. This did not forestall her continued attempts to do so.

The whole time, hubby and I are sitting in the living room, feeling extreme anxiety about how disastrous the night will be, fielding calls from his mom, planning to get the playyard out if she's still roving at 11 PM. Should we check on her? Should we just sit here gnawing our knuckles?

At 10:15 or so, we noticed that she was no longer making any noise, and we looked at each other in amazement. Was it possible that she actually went to sleep within a reasonable period of time? This from our daughter?? We were then gripped with fear--what if she had fallen asleep in front of the door? We let the silence continue for another 15 minutes, then snuck to the door, gently turning the knob and peering into the night-lit gloom. There she lay, on her bed.

We were stunned and delighted, and returned to the living room to dance and laugh and hug, celebrating our daughter's leap out of babyhood.

Vile temptor

My husband has often bemoaned the fact that the he of now doesn't care enough about the him of fifteen minutes from now. This has been a lot on my mind lately. What is it about the human condition that leads us to fall into temptation, even when we are fully aware of the likely outcome of our indulgences? I know that if I eat sugar I will suffer greatly from depression, anger and listlessness. These outcomes are great enough of a deterrent that I have not intentionally eaten sugar in many months. I also know that if I rob a bank, I will go to jail and destroy my life and my family's. So far I have not felt tempted to pursue that course of action, though it might theoretically solve some of our financial problems. But not bothering to do the dishes every night after dinner, though I know it will become a formidable pile the next day--why can't I resist the temptation of laziness? The salty snacks that call my name and give me digestive ills and fat; the television shows I don't really need to watch when there is housework to be done; not practicing so that I show up at work unable to bumble my way through a Shostakovich symphony. Basically it boils down to being a grownup. Being able to make the right choice all the time is an impossible goal, but I know I can do better than I do.

My daughter's diaper is olfactorily noticeable--the consequence of my not taking care of it immediately is her discomfort--so that's all for now.

Not your mother's grandmother

My 80-year-old grandmother has recently been elected mayor of her small city. She decided to run against the entrenched Democratic government on a zany Socialist-Republican platform, and she won! My grandmother is not your typical grandmother, sitting and knitting and baking while letting the rest of the world go by. Well, she does bake some amazing apple and pumpkin pies, but she makes sure she has plenty of fingers in other kinds of pies as well! My grandmother has always been outspoken, strong-willed, and ready to do the dirty work. I spent much of my growing up in her house, and she was always doing something--upholstery, running a business, wallpapering, shepherding my youth orchestra, mixing epoxy on the kitchen counter! Her mother was of similar ilk--one of the first women in this country to attend college, a Latin scholar, a school teacher in the Bronx, a strong woman who lived well into her nineties. The women in my family have followed her pioneering path of intellectual pursuit, fierce independence, and not sitting around waiting for someone else to do the job. And telling people what we think!! Now my grandmother can put these strengths to use for the good of her town. Way to go Grandmom!!!!