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I’m Delicate, But At Least I’m Tidy
by Sarah Mitchell
Updated: April 21, 2020
Originally Published: August 1, 2015
Our household is currently navigating an emotional whirlwind: our eldest is off to college, while our youngest is stepping into high school. I feel completely at the mercy of unfolding events, and truthfully, I’m not prepared for this transition. It would be one thing if I were the only one feeling overwhelmed, but that’s rarely the case in a family—stress seems to spread like wildfire.
For example, last week, my youngest son faced tryouts for the high school soccer team, and he was a bundle of nerves. I found myself tiptoeing around, unsure of how best to support him. Should I ask him questions about tryouts? Remain silent? Or perhaps distract him? When he returned from the field, I attempted to inject humor into the situation, hoping to lighten the mood—unless, of course, he wasn’t in the mood for levity, in which case I was met with his unmistakable glare. That was delightful.
On top of it all, I’ve been running on empty. I’ve been waiting up late for my eldest to return from saying goodbye to friends and then waking up at the crack of dawn to drive my youngest to his tryouts. The combination of sleep deprivation and lack of control leads to an emotional me, which is less than ideal for anyone in my vicinity.
And here comes the kicker: my son leaves in just three days—well, if we’re being precise, it’s three days, 11 hours, and 26 minutes, according to the college’s Welcome Week page I just checked. Three days! Why couldn’t he have left last year when he was insufferable? Back then, I would have happily packed him off to a faraway dorm with barely a backward glance. But now, he’s transformed into a sweet, pleasant individual who gets along with his brother! What gives?!
So, yes, I’m feeling delicate, and I find myself tearing up over the smallest things. Just yesterday, I received a delivery notification for a table I ordered, set to arrive on August 25, and I cried. Why? Because my eldest won’t be here to see it. It’s utterly ridiculous.
Do I sound a bit frantic? Well, I am. Nothing seems within my control right now, and I desperately need to grasp something. So, I organize. While I can’t dictate the chaos in my life, I can control the contents of my junk drawer and the organization of my refrigerator.
Fortunately, my moments of feeling overwhelmed have coincided with periods of packing and organizing. For instance, moving after marriage was daunting, but I kept myself occupied by hunting for stylish baskets and drawer organizers at the Container Store. When I had my first child, I found solace in selecting the perfect bins and shelving for my newborn’s room. And during my father’s illness, I distracted myself by helping my mom unpack in the newly remodeled house they moved into. I excel at organizing when under pressure.
As I prepare to move my kid into his dorm room, I’ve developed an obsession with plastic storage bins. Everywhere I go, I discover a plethora of bins in every conceivable shape, size, and color. Believe me, I can envision a purpose for each one. That blue three-drawer bin? Ideal for school supplies and just the right height for a bedside table! The extra-long bin with a hinged lid? Perfect for stowing away wiffle ball bats, golf clubs, and tennis rackets under the bed. That little red container? Just right for first-aid supplies! (Get it? First aid? Red?)
Don’t worry; I haven’t succumbed to buying color-coded bins…yet, and I’ve restrained myself from labeling each container, realizing that would mortify my child. But the urge is strong. My husband thinks I’ve lost it, and my kid just shakes his head, but I’m unfazed.
While I may not be able to control my son’s future, I can guarantee he’ll be the most organized freshman on campus… at least until I drive away.
This article was originally published on August 1, 2015.
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In summary, the transition within our household is proving to be both emotional and chaotic. While I may feel fragile, I find comfort and control in organizing my surroundings, proving that even amidst uncertainty, I can create a sense of order.