I am a product of Organised Chaos...
If you know me I wouldn't read organised, I am a disheveled mess. My hair is usually the last thing on my priority list, I don't do my bed every morning and dishes will pile up high in my kitchen. Thus assuming I am a slob.
In a weird form of protest I think I have become this way due to the Organised Chaos that was my childhood. Why do I call it this... my mother's house immaculate, licking the floors possible. We lived in the house with the plastic on the living room couches, a dining room that was only for extreme special occasions. I don't remember, running, playing or enjoying our couches for anything other than birthdays and Christmas.
My mother the Queen of the Tidy... but would I say our lives were organised- NO! My mother had her crap together, her chores, her cleaning, her laundry, her ironing... stuff she felt she could control. But this didn't mean everything else was organised. From her frustration she yelled, when she wasn't interested in dealing with her life she wasted hours on end talking on the phone with friends forgetting dinner (because she wasn't hungry) as well as bed time (because well I was the quiet child and she didn't hear me so she didn't think much of dealing with me.)
Don't get me wrong I am not complaining about my mother... if you know me I love my mother with her quirks, I believe we behave and are the product of our rearing and my mother came from a bizarre and volatile household.
In return I protest... ask me where something is in my house, I can tell you, ask me someones phone number and it is memorised in my head (if I was left stranded in the middle of nowhere land I could call anyone). My disorganised house plays no affect on my personal well being... my children are happy and smart, I am loving and love being happy and I take no reflection from my personal possession. They don't make me, I am me with my stuff or without it- something that my mother didn't know how to teach us or show for herself.
We are that family you see at the beach playing in the mucky sand, making sand castles, getting our feet wet in the water, wetting our jeans but at home there might be dishes in my sink... because we are Happy!
Sometimes I get worried about other's opinions, what others might say... sometimes people don't keep their opinions to themselves and I listen and sometimes I let it bother me. But mostly I appreciate the people, the experiences and the love I have.
I am a different version of organised chaos... we appear to have chaos around us, but we are organised and happy instead of the organised exterior and the falling apart at the seams that my upbringing was.
Do you feel happy?
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