Indie Mom in Vegas on Life, Art, Parenting, And The Pursuit of Enlightenment

I consider myself a semi-organized person. I go through the junk mail as soon as it gets in the house, and not because I’m just neurotic, mind you. If you let the junk mail get much further past the door and it doesn’t immediately get sorted and the trash thrown (or recycled for you tree-huggers) it piles up on you and before you know it you have a giant pile of unidentifiable pieces of paper to sort through.

This is definitely one thing that your parents fail to mention to you when you are a little kid. They may mention in passing what a pain paying bills in and you may fear their stuffed to the brim roll-top desk; but I don’t think you really gain an appreciation for exactly how much paper you acquire over time and how much of it you actually have to keep and find places to organize it into.

While I went to production design school and have a great respect and grasp of organization, I don’t think anything could have possibly prepared me for bills, debts, papers, medical papers, important documents, leases, important things to keep, and the eight hundred million other things that seem to pile up faster than you can say “ARRRRGH”

I have a new appreciation for the giant expanding file folder, but I have also realized that you can’t do it with just one. The problem doesn’t exactly lie in where and how to organize your files, it more lies in whether you can remember which folder in which nook in your house you put something when suddenly placed under pressure.

Your child’s medical records, your driver’s license copy, the title to your car, the password to a website you locked yourself out of, the extra key to the car you can’t start. As a person who considers myself pretty “together” as far as things of that nature go, all hell broke loose after I had the baby.

Has anyone done a study on whether you lose brain cells or the ability to remember what you were doing mid-sentence or what you happened to do with something that you know you had in your hand about half an hour ago?

Maybe it has absolutely nothing to do with having children at all, but admitting I might be getting a bit senile at 25 seems a little pre-mature, though not completely out of the question.

Let me paint you a quick picture. My living room is full of baby toys, folders, piles of papers, DVDs, dishes and other random things from everyday life. I fear if anyone came into my space at this point I may have to start all over again. For the moment I have a good idea of where things are and feel accomplished as far as the “sorting and organizing” goes, but I thought I would share my pain with all of you. Anybody else going through this or know about what absolute insanity life has become?

God everything is complicated.

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