What Really Matters

I’m a very organized person.  M may not agree with me completely as our house is usually a bit cluttered, but it’s organized clutter.  If you want proof, just look at my closet.

Every item of clothing, every shoe, everything has its place in my closet.  There is little on the floor, and what is there is there by necessity and hidden underneath some of the hanging clothes.  The shoes are in one of those hanging shoe organizers, and any shoes that don’t fit in it disappear; I don’t need any more shoes than fit in the organizer.

My hanging clothes are the pinnacle of my organization, though.  Naturally they are separated into categories: shirts, pants, capris, jeans, skirts, dresses, and my one fancy suit.  Then within the categories they are color-coordinated, as close to rainbow-ordered as possible.  I’ve even organized each color category to keep the shades of colors together.  And of course, they are all on the same hangers and facing the same direction.  It’s quite appealing to the eye, and it shows just how organized I wish my whole life could be.

So it’s perfect, except for one shirt.  Somewhere in the middle of the blues, one pink-striped shirt is poking out at an awkward angle, clearly facing the wrong direction and on a conspicuous green hanger.  In the past, that obvious anomaly would have grated on my nerves every time I walked into my closet.  In fact, I probably would have fixed it the second I noticed it, even if it made me late for something or I had to leave a kid crying to do so.

Yet somehow it is still there, after more than a week.  I’m reluctant to wear the shirt and move it from its spot.  I actually smile a little every time I see it.  Why, you ask?

Because this awkwardly-placed shirt of mine is evidence of PJ’s efforts to help.  He loves helping me with laundry and now does his darnedest to hang clothes for me as well.  As you may have gathered, he’s not partucularly adept at it yet, but I’ve found that his efforts mean more to me than whether it is done perfectly.

That is how I know I have grown.  I always assumed that when things weren’t done right, I would get frustrated and have to fix them right away.  I laughed at the thought of PJ’s “help” and all the extra work it would create.

But now I enjoy PJ’s help.  I sometimes wait to do chores until he’s awake to help me, and I find ways for him to help if he can’t do exactly what I’m doing.  I’m proud of myself for encouraging his less-than-perfect help because I know that he will be more willing to continue helping when he gets older and truly can be of assistance to me.  I would much rather have a generous, helpful child than a perfectly organized house.  It’s just one more way my priorities have changed since having kids.