Join Me in Snarkville

…like today I know I am truly loved.

Backing up a minute.  I get horrible PMS, seriously, as I’m getting older not only am I realizing what this is, but I’m actually startled at myself when I can see myself heading over the deep end.  Now this doesn’t mean that what puts me over the edge isn’t highly annoying when my hormones are in check, no, not at all.  What I blame my on my PMS is my out of control reaction to things that would under normal circumstances be just irritating.  For example, one may think that not completely closing the silverware drawer every so often is just annoying; if caught at the height of my PMS insanity, I might slam the drawer closed, declare I can not deal and go lay down in my room.  (Yes, I do on occasions put myself in a time out.)  I’m a delight to live with — and Prince deals with this.

So, recently, in addition to the normal roller coaster of my hormones (and please, no 100 mentions that I need to see my doctor — we are chatting and journaling and well, doing what you need to do — but until it is clear that this is truly PMS and not that I really do have (as we all can think sometimes) the most unreasonable family in the world…we wait), I’ve been trying not to have my family ask me to live the in back yard so much.

I firmly believe this is why I’m on such a purge kick.  I have come to believe that if I can pare down, make the day to day chores easier (because that’s 90% of what I rage on anyway), then there will be less stress when the hormones go all wacky.  So, I’ve been really pushing on this weekend purging.  I’m not asking for a purge a day or anything crazy.  I’m not going all FlyLady on this family (yet).  I’m just asking that we clean something out and then strive to keep it clean as we move to the next thing.

For the past weeks we’ve focused on the landfill that is our office.  Mostly because it is high impact — the crap is on the surface.  There are piles to sort and throw away.  The best part is that it takes about an hour to fill our garbage can and then we move on to something else.  However, this weekend, the PMS took over and I declared war on my dining room table.

Now, I’ve reviewed that it is Prince’s filing cabinet.  I could tell that my dining room table has never been clean since he came into my life.  He is at his core a “stuff dropper” and the table is his location of choice.  I attacked it.  I went through every pile.  I narrowed his pile down to something that was rather tiny. The table was cleared.  I scrubbed it clean. It shines.  I mopped under it.  I even wiped down the chairs.  I set out the three things I actually want on my table and smiled.  It makes me happy.

Today, I had to do some stuff out of the house all day while the boys were home.  Prince and Duke played.  I called to check in and Prince told me that Duke’s room was a disaster zone and he’d sent him in to pick it up.  I was prepping to come home to a mess EVERYWHERE.  I called as I got close, “Do you need me to stop and get milk?”  No one home — gee, they must have run out.

I came home to an empty sink (which meant the dishes had been put away and dirties in the dishwasher).

I came home to a still clear table.

Prince came in after me and walked upstairs declaring he’d brought dinner home. (hmm garlic bread)

Finally, I asked Duke what they did all day expecting to hear “watched Power Show and played Lego Star Wars” — Duke’s response was, “We tidied up.”

And they did.  And yes, I feel loved, less stressed, and not at all like I need to eat either of them.