Ooh, Look! It's on Sale!

 

Last week, I bought a Kate Spade tote bag. It perfectly matches my planner (among other items I already own) and, while it had been on sale for about a month, the additional 40% off code in my inbox sealed the deal, the need/want line blurring into oblivion as I reached for my credit card.

Like so many other people, I replaced in-person shopping with online shopping during the pandemic. While the need to do this for health reasons has passed, the convenience remains. Consequently, I’m still buying stuff. Rarely does one receipt go over the top, but do I really need everything I buy?

 

I decided to try a little experiment. For the remainder of August (about a week), I would purchase only necessary things.

 

Great! So…what are necessary things?

 

Food. I’ll purchase only food. 

 

Great! Does that include eating out, or just groceries? And what about that daily Starbucks?

 

Hmm…okay. Starbucks is in. Eating out is okay if it’s unplanned and done with someone else so there’s a social element involved. But no fair making new plans that involve spending, at least until September.

 

More questions arose. Household items? Home improvement projects? Donations? 

 

But the biggest challenge presented itself when I innocently dug into my inbox on Saturday morning.

 

Books. 

 

OK. That’s easy enough. My TBR pile is quite tall. I recently renewed my library card. There’s no need to buy any more books, no matter how good the price. Delete unopened.

 

Ouch.

 

But the book emails were just the tip of the iceberg. When had everything in my inbox become a solicitation? No wonder my online shopping habit was flourishing. Everywhere I looked there was a sale. 

 

And I didn’t even leave need to leave my house.

 

Suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t arrived at this destination alone. I had been “helped” along the way by a burgeoning group of retailers who came to my door, so to speak, on a daily basis. 

 

This was bigger than a weak moment. This was subliminal coercion. And, as a result, I wasn’t just buying more stuff than I needed, I was also contributing to a growing accumulation of stuff. 

 

It was time. Taking a week (or maybe more) off from superfluous spending would be the reset I needed to sharpen the habit of thinking before I reached for my credit card. 

 

But not only is never buying anything fun again unsustainable, it also does nothing to reduce my current inventory, so to speak. Consequently, I need to use a powerful organizing tool already in my arsenal: one in, one out. If a new tote bag is coming, something old is going. Only then will I be able to keep the incoming and outgoing stuff in balance.

 

Yes. I have a plan.

 

As I was typing this, a new solicitation landed in my inbox. Amazon caught me looking and decided to nudge me to pull out my plastic. Clearly, I need to pull some of the weeds in my inbox out by the roots and set a new criteria for thinning email. If it's trying to sell me something (especially something I don’t need), it might be time to unsubscribe.

 

From there, it was a short jaunt to considering how and when I engage in my online shopping excursions. How many evenings do I spend clearing out my inbox in front of the television?  I think I’m using my time well, slotting a less essential task into a down time of day, but it’s down time for a reason. I'm tired. My defenses are low. My feet might hurt, making those pretty shoes the perfect solution to all my woes, and one I deserve at that.

 

Okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but you see where I’m going with this. 

 

I bought my tote bag on Thursday evening. By Saturday, having chalked up just one day of not buying stuff I didn’t need, I’d begun to realize that the problem was much more complex than a lack of self-control.

 

But it’s not insurmountable. And, from an organizational perspective, it’s a great place to start. Being thoughtful about our spending habits keeps us from filling our homes with things we then need to organize. And, by placing our mindfulness alongside our wallets, we might even be able to enjoy those fun purchases (when we choose to make them) because they happen less frequently.

 

It’s going to be an interesting week.

 

A Little Ownership Goes a Long Way

 

 As we once again fall into fall and try to keep the home-school communication running smoothly, it seemed like a good time to re-share this post.

True Confession #24: I like to do things my way. Everyone who knows me, along with anyone who reads this blog on a regular basis is laughing at the understatement that is that sentence.

I'm not inflexible. I just know what I like.

But this post isn't about me. It's about your kids.

As we all spend lots of -- ahem -- quality time together, melding home and school and every possession, plaything, or educational material into one big, overwhelming, previously organized space, we may be struggling to keep it -- I mean things -- together. And we all know what we like.

And it's probably not happening.

Believe it or not, kids have organizing styles too. Sometimes they match ours, sometimes they don't. But a surefire way to keep your kids from organizing their stuff is to disregard their styles and do it yourself (a.k.a. according to your styles) because it's easier. It might be easier (and faster) but, rather than teaching them how to organize, it's teaching them that if they leave things disorganized for long enough, someone else will come along behind them and organize it for them.

Sometimes, after the organizing angel has worked her magic (although at my house, the angel is more likely to moonlight as a dad), the children in question have the nerve -- no, the gall! -- to complain about how it was done.

Can you believe that?

What looks like a serious case of entitlement is often a difference in styles. I'm not promising you that if you ask your children what their styles are that they will magically fall in line and put away every last possession, plaything, and educational material without being asked. But I am suggesting that you ask them what might work for them.

Maybe even give them this very scientific quiz I made up.

She might be too young to figure out how to
organize on her own, but her big sister
probably isn't. (Photo: Kasman via Pixabay)

Teaching our kids to organize most often begins with modeling the strategies that come naturally to us. Some of our kids will adopt those same strategies and develop organizing systems that look like ours and, when it comes time to clean up at the end of the day, they will do so to our satisfaction.

Others will not but, when we offer them alternatives, they might develop their own strategies and systems. They might even like the responsibility of caring for their own things when they can do it their way. Even better, it's possible that they've learned a thing or two from all those things that didn't work. With a little encouragement and a lot of flexibility, we can help them develop a life skill while they're still living at home where we can appreciate it.

Adults don't have the market cornered on wanting to do things our way. Honoring your child's styles can, in the end, make both of you happy.

After all, everyone loves a little ownership.

Searching for School Supplies (Throwback Thursday)

  

pixabay.com

 From the looks of my email inbox, 'tis the season for back-to-school sales. If you have official school supply lists to adhere to, style-specific shopping can be a challenge, but it's still possible to do some adapting so your kids can find tools that work for them. Here are a few ideas to get you started.

Have you ever watched a left-handed person try to take notes in a traditional spiral notebook? It's almost painful. The angle is wrong, the spiral's in the wrong place, and even the neatest handwriting approaches illegibility as fatigue and frustration take over.

That's how it feels to be a non-traditional organizer using traditional school supplies. While everyone around you slides papers neatly onto binder rings or into the pockets of folders, you just never manage to make things work as neatly and effortlessly.

So...why buy those supplies?

If you've got a kiddo (or two) at your house whose notebooks and folders look like they've been through a natural disaster somewhere between school and home, there are things you can do to help them adapt their supplies to their styles. 

Ways to adapt a binder:

• Buy a portable three-hole punch to put in the front of the notebook.
• Load the binder with page protectors so unpunched papers make it into the notebook. Or, if that's not gonna happen with your cram and jammer or drop and run organizer, try folder pockets (hole-punched inserts that look like a pocket folder opened up and folded back) or a three-ring acetate envelope with a snap or Velcro fastener.

  

  When I taught Organizing by STYLE
  to an elementary school audience,
  I found that clamp binders were a
  huge hit with fifth grade boys.
  Photo: staples.com

• Add a clip to the front of the binder so the day's papers get clipped inside the cover and can be added to the right section of the notebook at home.
• Ditch the three-ring binder for one with a spring-loaded clamp. Kids who don't take the time to put stuff into the rings sometimes enjoy putting papers away when they have an excuse to play with the clamp.
• Replace the binder with an accordion folder. Choose one that's divided into sections, or one with just one wide, yawning opening, depending on your child's style.

What to use instead of a standard-issue, paper pocket folder:

• A file folder. Like pocket folders, these come in a variety of colors, and can be color-coded by subject. If the papers aren't going to go in the pockets anyway, why create an unnecessary battle?
• Transparent folders that allow kids to personalize them (photos show through the opening) or see what's inside. These also come in a variety of colors, with and without pockets.
• A folder that has top and side access and a tab closure at the top. Multi-colored (again). Never underestimate the value of being able to play with an organizational tool. The more fun it is to put something away, the more likely it is it'll get there.
• Clear acetate envelopes with string-tie and button closures. Sold at office supply stores, these often come in multi-packs that make them less expensive per item. 

avery.com

You may wonder if it's worth it to do all this adapting. Don't kids need to learn how to use a binder and get in the habit of putting papers in the correct side of a pocket folder? 

Not necessarily. Kids do need to learn how to organize themselves, but saying that they have to use tools that don't work for them doesn't accomplish that. Learning to organize ourselves means finding tools and methods that work for us and that let us put our hands on what we need when we need it without wasting precious time re-thinking someone else's filing system. Using the wrong (for them) methods and tools only convinces kids (and grown-ups) that organizing is something some people can do and others can't, a lesson they're likely to carry with them long after those pocket folders have landed in the trash can. Teaching kids to develop systems that work for them not only helps them learn how to get organized; it also teaches them problem-solving skills and reinforces the notion that creativity can be exercised in everyday situations.

And those are some formidable skills.

Auspicious August

 As I write this from my perch on a porch at the beach, August is less than a week away, and I'm not ready to flip that calendar page. By the time you read this, it will already be August, and I'm sure I still won't be ready to engage in that seemingly simple action.

Why is it hard to turn a calendar page? Well, physically, it isn't. But, for me, August marks the end of summer and the return to a school mindset. Though classes won't start until closer to the end of the month, to me, turning the calendar page to August signals that it's time to leave leisure behind and begin preparations for the semester that lies ahead.

I follow enough teachers on social media to know I'm not alone. And, it's not just the teachers who are setting up for success. When it comes to getting organized, the back-to-school season is probably second only to January and its New Year's resolutions. Parents chase down sales and school supply lists, trying to find the right tools at the right price and hoping against hope that this is the year the organizing magic materializes for their kiddos who struggle to put the right paper in the right (or left) pocket of the folder. 

I've written before about organizing with kids, but that's not where I want to go with this post. Instead of talking about organizing stuff, I want to talk about organizing life.

I'm not ready for August because I'm not ready to leave the rest, relaxation, and freedom of summer behind. Like the Grinch, I want to stop the school year from coming (or a part of me does, anyway) but, like that green meanie, I can't make that happen. What I can do, though, is carry over a little bit of one season into the next.

For me, one of the best parts of summer is the luxury of a meandering start to the day: time spent journaling and reflecting. In the absence of time constraints, this process flows into reading, researching, writing, playing games on my iPad, and essentially doing a bunch of stuff I don't really have time to do on a work morning. The thought of switching gears away from all of this and into structured mornings is a large part of what makes me crabby when July turns to August.

As I thought about it, though, I realized that, instead of getting crabby about having to give all of that up, I can flip the question.

What part of my morning routine can I keep? How can I carry a little summer sunshine forward into a new semester? And, is there any day of the week when I can actually have it all?

Huh. What a concept.

And, as it turns out, one that isn't so hard to put into action. The time I spend on my journal can easily be incorporated into work mornings; I've done it before. The extended time can certainly become a part of my weekend mornings and, some days, I can probably squeeze in a little of the reading before work. And, if I can't, I can set it aside to read after work. Just because I do it all in one sitting in the summer, that doesn't mean I have to do it the same way in the fall.

I hear you morning people suggesting that I simply get up earlier. Ha. Not. Gonna. Happen. I mean, it is gonna happen (I have to get up earlier on work days), but getting up early enough to enjoy my routine all in one piece? For this night owl, that would suck all the joy out of that lovely morning routine. Breaking it into pieces and enjoying every last bite is much more my style.

You, on the other hand, might feel differently. The swath of summer sunshine you want to protect might be worth earlier mornings, later evenings, or carving out a little segment of time during some other part of the day.

What is your most treasured part of summer? How can you carry it with you into the new season ahead? Or, is it time to swap it out for something that brings you joy in the new season we're entering? 

Our routines and preferences didn't materialize over night. We crafted them over time, through changes in life and changes in seasons. Sometimes, we need to shake up the routine.

Other times, we need to intentionally carry it forward.

It's Not Procrastination. It's a Metaphor.

Saydung89 via Pixabay

  Every once in a while, I write a post that can go either here or over at Porch Swing Chronicles. I posted this one there last week, and thought I'd share it here as well.

 When it comes to packing, I'm a procrastinator. Since my reluctance to actually put things into suitcases sometimes works to my advantage, I've shrugged it off as a workable, if less than ideal, state of affairs. It was only recently, when a sense of frustration descended on me as I was packing for vacation twelve hours before our departure (as usual), that I realized it's not a packing problem at all.

It's an abundance problem. 

Vacation creates a sense of possibility. Vacation means breaking from routine, going somewhere new (or old if you, like me, have a much-loved vacation spot to which you regularly return), and letting go of daily obligations. All of these inspire a feeling of abundance -- abundance of time and of opportunity. Vacations open doors. Packing closes them before we even get to the threshold.

At home, I can choose to wear anything in my closet on any given day. I can read any book on my shelves, or even order a new one if the ones I own don't inspire me. I can decide to play the piano I've ignored for months, pick up an old hobby that I stashed away in a closet, or change my mind and clean out that closet if I'm so inclined.

How do I narrow down all the options, especially if I'm headed for a week away where, by definition, I can do whatever I want to do?

What will I want to do tomorrow, the next day, five days from now? And what will I need to wear? How can I possibly prepare adequately for any of this?

Shut the suitcase, folks, and put it back in the closet. This is just too hard.

The combination of narrowing the possibilities to a serviceable number while still keeping my options open (and fitting it all into appropriately sized containers) is more than my limited cognitive resources can manage. 

In the end, it's good, old-fashioned cognitive dissonance. Vacation creates a mindset that anything is possible; packing for vacation means foreclosing on those possibilities, or risking being unprepared and not taking full advantage of a window of opportunity that opens much too infrequently.

So, there you have it. It's not just procrastination. It's also a metaphor for trying to cram as much stuff as possible into a finite amount of space and time. 

Procrastination is sneaky that way. It looks like one thing on the surface when really, it's about much more. 

In the end, no matter how I try to make sense of it, trying to corral abundance into the smallest number of containers possible is an impossible task, as is trying to predict every situation for which I need to prepare (that's also a Mom thing, but that's an entirely different post). And I usually figure all of this out.

About twelve hours before we have to leave.