Children don’t get report cards anymore. At least they don’t at Kid’s school. They get progress reports. Since Kid is a child prodigy, much like I was, she always gets a full boat of Satisfactorys. Well, almost. Always one N – Needs Work. Organization. As in, her cubby is a mess, her backpack is packed full of stuff, and when I go to pick her up from school, she’s always the last one out of the classroom. Look, I’m not one of those perfection moms. I don’t care if she gets straight Ss but this N bothers me. A lot. Because it is ENTIRELY my fault. Behold, Exhibit A. My Desk:
That’s actually pretty clean for my desk. I have not taught Kid anything about being organized. It bothers me so much because I really want to be organized. The weird thing is, I’m organized virtually. As in, I have all my ducks in a row with my calendar, contacts, even my friends on FB and twitter are organized into lists. For some reason though, I can not seem to get it to cross over. Exhibit B: Actual conversation with Mike.
Me: Do you know where the menthol chest rub for colds is?
Mike: Hmm. Did you check in the bathroom where it’s supposed to be?
Mike: I feel like I’ve seen it around. Did you look on the windowsill in the kitchen? On top of the microwave? In the junk drawer?
Me: Yes, yes, and yes – AND in my desk. Can’t find it anywhere.
See? This is bad. Very bad. Windowsill in the kitchen? That is NOT where mentholated chest rub goes. I feel terrible I haven’t taught Kid to be organized. I guess we’re going to work on it together as a family. We organized the hell out of her room the other day. It looks great. Now, if we can only keep it that way.