The other day, I was talking to someone who was planning to get married. She wasn't even engaged yet, but was thinking ahead, and was looking for some reading materials. She wanted to learn everything she could, so she would do it right when the time finally came.
I admire this in the same way I admire people who climb Mount Everest -- thinking, Holy cow, good for you! But are you sure we're the same species?
Because the truth is, there are some things that you can't really prepare for. The only way you can learn how to do them is to mess them up horribly, and then make several course corrections, and expect to continue doing that for the rest of your life. Or at least, there are some people who can only learn that way. Here's what I've learned from messing up horribly:
HOW I LEARNED IT: There are twenty-two feet in my family, no three the same size. One fine day, I started to calculate just how many hours of my life I had spent sorting socks, and before I was done carrying the nine into the thousands column, I realize that life was too short. Now socks go directly from the dryer into a bin next to the dryer (and then, in the case of my eight-year-old son, straight from his feet into the garbage). If people want lah-di-dah amenities like socks that are the same color or the same size, they are welcome to dig in, with my sincere wishes for good luck. Also, if you put your socks into the laundry inside-out, I will assume you like them that way, and I will not disturb them.
WHAT I LEARNED: If they care and you don't, then it's their job, not yours.
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HOW I LEARNED IT: I used to color coordinate my kids, even if we were just going out to the supermarket -- because somebody might see a dirty ear and think we were not pro-life, or something. And if we could reasonably expect to be photographed -- holy cow. I would pack an entire back-up set of thematically clothing, just in case someone got crumbs on their shirtfront, and the entire balance of the universe would be thrown off. Now my only rules are: no visible rips, stains, or egregiously inappropriate slogans or monkey butts (why do so many clothes have monkey butts on them, and how do my kids keep coming into possession of these shirts? It's a mystery for the ages); and if anyone's paying money for the photographer, then you're not allowed to draw on a mustache on your lip with permanent marker OR regular marker -- no, not even if you use a natural-looking shade of mustache brown. Other than that, I let the little rug rats dress in a way that makes them feel good. The colors may clash, but the little rat faces are happier. Makes a much nicer picture, and a much nicer life.
WHAT I LEARNED: A slice of life is more nourishing than a fancy garnish.
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HOW I LEARNED IT: I (the child of a small-town New England librarian and bookseller) was raised to think that watching TV is a foul and miserable practice for people who have given up on life; while my husband (the child of a globetrotting Los Angeles television producer) was raised to think that TV's are only off when they're broken and you're on the phone, ordering a new one. It sounds like the makings of some hideously lame British sitcom, but in fact all it led to was me raising kids who understood that TV was a super fun, wonderful, glorious treat that Mama would occasionally, angrily let you have, and then she would be mad at everyone for a while. A better solution? Talk often about how much and what kind of stuff the kids (and the adults) can watch; and lighten the heck up.
WHAT I LEARNED: You married your spouse for a reason. Let your kids belong to both of you.
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HOW I LEARNED IT: So, you sit in your chair and begin to type, which is the signal for a needy child to scramble in behind the small of your back. Feeling guilty for yelling at them earlier, when they interrupted you while you were jotting down some moving thoughts about the value of motherhood, you intone, "Squash-y . . . squash-y; squash-y . . . squash-y" to the tune of a clock chiming, while squashing the child rhythmically. This game proves to be such a wild success that the children all assume that, from that moment forward, the only reason you ever sit in your chair is to invite them for a game of squashy-squashy. At the same time, the baby climbs in under your chair and promptly and repeatedly gets hung up on the rungs, but thrashes her head around so violently that you can't get her out without causing yet another fat lip or bloody nose. The trick is to find someone who's willing to pay you to write the kind of things you are capable of writing while you are squashing somebody; and then when a reader points out, "Mrs. Fisher, that was the stupidest thing I've ever read in my life," you can make it seem like they're anti-child.
WHAT I LEARNED: You can get lots of wonderful life experience, but never have time to write about it, or you can have peace and quiet, and nothing to say. Choose one.
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HOW I LEARNED IT: You never know when the baby is going to crawl up to the computer and press the extremely attractive glowing power button.
WHAT I LEARNED: Never get too attached to your work, even if you put a lot of effort into wri
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Love it!!!!!! Especially: “WHAT I LEARNED: If they care and you don’t, then it’s their job, not yours.”
I think the sock bag in my house (where I put unmated socks) is going to become a sock bin. Love this.
We have a sock tub too. Best. Idea. Ever.
As a newly married (2.5 years) mom of two (14 months apart) who is still working full time (as a youth minister) until we pay down our incredible amount of debt from my education…I wanted to say that I find your posts INCREDIBLY inspiring and helpful when I might be feeling overwhelmed at what life currently is. Thank you for that and for using your gifts to serve people like me who need encouragement and insight.
Cute column, but I think the last line got cut off ;)
“WHAT I LEARNED: If they care and you don’t, then it’s their job, not yours” - Yes!!
Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! I’m not finished reading this yet, but I just had to comment on the sock being inside out thing. My husband takes his socks off and throws them into the hamper as-is, wound up in a tight ball. After asking him to stop a number of times and nothing happening, I now wash them like that. :P
I heart you so freaking much.
We have a sock box, too. My kids are convinced they are the inspiration for the new mis-matched socks fad.
“If people want lah-di-dah amenities like socks that are the same color or the same size, they are welcome to dig in, with my sincere wishes for good luck. Also, if you put your socks into the laundry inside-out, I will assume you like them that way, and I will not disturb them.”
I’ve pampered them so far as to have a girls’ bin and a boys’, but yes, this is a liberating technique. You ought to start a sideline column as competition for Hints from Heloise.
Yes. A good point about making course corrections throughout our lives.
There are things that continually surprise me.
You must have gotten some sleep. This is among your best :)
We have three sock bins: small, medium, and large. I’ll have to inform my kids that they’re spoiled. :)
I HATE this one: WHAT I LEARNED: If they care and you don’t, then it’s their job, not yours
That’s what makes me have to do yard work, because my beloved would be fine living in the jungle.
Wow… I’m really surprised that so many people can get behind the, “If they care and you don’t, then it’s their job not yours.”
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If that were true, I still wouldn’t know how to wash dishes, or scrub the floor - or particularly, make my bed!!!!
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Sounds like a recipe to make the women do everything to me…. or does the rule only apply when mom is the one who doesn’t care?
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This is exactly how the neat and tidy man who married my messy and oblivious best friend ended up living in a pig sty. The one who didn’t care won!!!
:D I didn’t just smile or chuckle, I laughed out loud twice, even though one of my procrastinating “rats” was trying to elbow me off of my laptop, to check “Edlne”—translation: He didn’t do/finish his homework. The sock rule applies in theory to this one as well, but it was also thematic in the rather sloppily prepared confession I made yesterday.
There is a cosmic rule in the universe: If Mom’s backside is hovering over a chair, an unheard alarm sounds frantically in the heads of those six and under. What I learned? : Eat, standing, while cowering in a corner of the kitchen, and pray they don’t sense it. The other cosmic rule of the universe at our house is called “girl on the bed”,syndrome. It became a peculiarly noticeable manifestation about 15 years ago. No matter where my daughter was in the house, if a bed was being made, she would feel an irresistible urge to come, and flop her body down upon it. None of the boys like it when I’m standing there, mid blanket pull and have to call them out with a “Girl on the bed!” shout, but they know they’re guilty, while mystified over the odd compulsion.
“little rat faces.” I just love it. I’m so glad you’re so funny and I have the internet.
Oh, one more thing…and yes, my house has never been so messy because of the internet…You know what you said about spouses balancing out the universe? My spouse loves me a teenie bit more, every time I IRON the kids’ clothing. Yes, I AM going to heaven. Eventually.
Yes, thank you! I am especially fond of this: “You can get lots of wonderful life experience, but never have time to write about it, or you can have peace and quiet, and nothing to say. Choose one.” I have so many topics for my languishing blog running through my head while I am wiping the multitudinous behinds that need wiping around here . . . and when I finally get to the computer? Pfft, gone.
What have I learned? Top sheets on kids’ beds are totally not worth it. Their beds always look like they spent the night wrestling with a wolverine anyway, so why complicate matters? Even better, if the kids on the top bunks want to sleep in a sleeping bad on top of their bedclothes, for the love of all that is holy, let them do it!
I’ve also learned that people in this household will never turn their clothes right side out for the laundry, no matter how much I beg them. All clothes now return to them in the manner in which they arrived. And for my husband that means dress shirts with the arms turns inside out. He undresses exactly like our 10 year old. Maybe it’s genetic?
Renae:
This is exactly how the neat and tidy man who married my messy and oblivious best friend ended up living in a pig sty. The one who didn’t care won!!!”
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Don’t they call that passive-agressive? Or am I confusing my Freud?
After spending the past two days tidying up our unsightly home office with a bored, winey 4 year old and a destructive 18 month old (whilst 27 weeks pregnant), the “squash-y” “squash-y” just took the cake for me. I mean, I literally wet my pants laughing from this post. Great work Simcha. I’m off to the ladies now ;)
Oh, the computer. First, get a computer desk with a door where the CPU goes. Put a child-lock on it. Then you computer is safe until they learn how to move the mouse and start moving/deleting your files. Then get a cordless mouse and hide it when you are not using the computer. Move to a temporary apartment for 8 months, where the computer is forced to reside on a table while the nice computer desk is 100 miles away. Paperclips will be shoved in the fan vent.
I love this so much! Especially, “You can get lots of wonderful life experience, but never have time to write about it, or you can have peace and quiet, and nothing to say. Choose one.”
What I learned: kids ten and up can do laundry (e.g., no more sock bin).
How I learned it: actually, it was my mom who learned it (I’m one of nine children myself, and I survived and can even write complete sentences: there’s hope, Simcha.) She was wrestling with laundry while a friend was over one day, and her friend said, “Why are you doing all that? Your kids ten and older can all work the TV and the microwave and the radio (those were the days, right?). A washing machine and dryer are easier.”
Mom got the message. Next thing we knew, we older kids had our own laundry baskets and assigned days when the washer would be free (or free-ish; baby laundry always took precedence). We were responsible for washing, drying, and folding our own clothes and changing and washing our sheets.
Not only did it not kill any of us, I adopted the same thing with my kids, who by the time they were ten were computer literate and could work the stupid DVD player without help (I was the one who needed help).
Kids over ten can also use the vacuum, clean a bathroom, do dishes, and even start some easy cooking tasks…
Oh how I feel refreshed after reading your column. As a mother of several children I have learned in order to keep my sanity I must simplify. I am going to start the community sock bin asap. I was not put on this earth to stress about matching socks (: Thank you!
Mystic Katrina Wolfgesicht had a vision in 1678 in which she saw Mary sorting and pairing the socks of Jesus and Joseph, so sock bins aren’t Catholic. I’m disappointed this was published on a Catholic site.
Funny as h.e.double hockey sticks!
Preparation for Marriage?! She wanted to learn so she could do it right! Did you tell her to get a job working 20 hour days, making sure some of those hours crossed over both the rise and the setting of the sun? Did you tell her to abandon all trinkets and glass objects? Did you tell her that brushing the teeth of an alligator with a 50-lb bowling bowl under the front of her shirt and screaming toddlers in a backpack was practice for hygienic tutorials of any sons she may produce? That she would never sit on a clean chair again? Did you tell her that cold mac-n-cheese was considered top shelf? Put away the perfume and get used to eau d’baby barf. Some people collect magnets on their fridge, I collect hand prints on my career clothing. Socks are over-rated. Matching shoes, now there’s something to aim for.
“Mystic Katrina Wolfgesicht had a vision in 1678 in which she saw Mary sorting and pairing the socks of Jesus and Joseph, so sock bins aren’t Catholic. I’m disappointed this was published on a Catholic site.”
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This one wins.
Vaca sagrada - “... the squashy squashy game ...” - diet Dr. Pepper nearly came out my nose.
Thank you, ma’am, for finding an organization that is willing to pay you for what you’re able to write whilst squashing someone. You’re a gem. :-)
P.S. Oh, and for some inexplicable reason, I have always hated socks. Implementing sock bin idea *yesterday.* Gratzie!
I refuse to unwad socks. I can clean poop out of my own hair without flinching, but a sweaty sock-wad disgusts me to no end. I return them to the owner, dirty. We’ve had a sock bin for years, along with a shoe basket. Eighteen feet here so far…
I’ve only got 14 feet at this point, and we do have a sock bucket, but it’s been used as more of a holding pattern until I or an older child can sort and fold them. But I secretly hate it. Socks are the bane of my existence; and I love winter, but I wish we didn’t need socks for the season. I never though of just keeping a bin next to the dryer and throwing all socks in there and making people root out for them. Though I can see doing three bins, just to keep from enduring the bickering: one for my husband and I, one for the older boys, and one for the younger three. Or at least have two, to separate out my husband’s dress socks, he gets cranky when he can’t find matching pairs of socks in the morning.
Josh, I’m glad someone still has the guts to stand up for uncorrupted Catholic Truth.
(Seriously, though, ROFL!)
Love the whole thing, Simcha! Sock bin—great idea! But I have to confess, I love doing laundry—it doesn’t talk back to me =) I generally don’t have to discipline it. I just do it. I am blessed with a dungeon laundry room that I have learned to love, love, love for the peace and quiet….they know if they bother me in there, I will make them fold…or sort socks! Whatever works, eh?
I know EXACTLY what you mean about the baby turning off the powe
” This is exactly how the neat and tidy man who married my messy and oblivious best friend ended up living in a pig sty. The one who didn’t care won!!!”
Ordinarily, I’d take this opportunity to bellyache about the demise of my marriage. But instead I’ll share this anecdote:
My cousin Sal the contractor is pretty much imperturbable. (Two combat tours in Vietnam as a Marine teaches you a certain disregard for trivialities.) When his children moved back home after college, he welcomed them, telling them only to clean up their dishes after themselves—their mother has MS and her didn’t want his wife unnecessarily burdened. They were good about it for about a week, then the sink started filling. His solution was simple and effective: he started breaking the dirty plates and throwing them out. Then came the day when there was nothing to eat from or with, so he merely took his wife to dinner. The children were not invited.
@Anna B - Well, since Troll II @ Not a Goblin But a Troll seems to have gone lame-o and quit the best blog in the history of the Internet, someone has to do it.
@ Kathleen:This is exactly how the neat and tidy man who married my messy and oblivious best friend ended up living in a pig sty. The one who didn’t care won!!!”
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Don’t they call that passive-agressive? Or am I confusing my Freud?
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Not necessarily passive-aggressive. Could be, but not always. I mean, after all, you can keep cleaning up and organizing but if the person you love most keeps undoing your work, eventually you admit defeat.
It doesn’t have to get down to “Well if you’re not going to it, I’m not going to do it either.”
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I think there are some things you have to agree on/ compromise on - or don’t get married. Which may be why I’m still single!
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Based on my work experience, where I manage all the very expensive equipment that everyone uses…. when they don’t put it back where it belongs, neatly, cords coiled (not wrapped) I start to take it personally. Start to offer to follow them into the bathroom to help ou because clearly they can’t do simple things! (yes, I’m snarky. another reason I’m single I’m sure.)
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@ Steve T. oooh… I’ll use Uncle Sal’s tactic if needed!!
This really *should* be a great day; because up until today I took it as a given that my overflowing sock bin on the dryer was a visible reminder of that broad, blurry category called “sins of omission”. I dunno, maybe this makes up for that Simcha Fisher ear worm which says “Sam I am!”—every.time. I say an unladylike word that starts with an “F”. I DID confess it. In fact I confessed to saying it on the *way* to confession, when I missed the freeway on-ramp. Then I confessed that as usual,I failed to feel proper contrition. I earnestly blamed it on the corrupting influence of my children. But even *He* was sending mixed signals. How can a confessor nod gravely, and then laugh appreciatively?
I am surprised that any mother of a large family doesn’t have a sock bin. I mean, my mother - way back in the 60s - had one in the laundry room. She worked with my father in the family business and didn’t have time for la-ti-da. Going to a parochial school with uniforms helped the laundry problem immensely. However, if I wanted to go to school the next morning with my jumper smelling of the milk I spilled on it at lunch the day before, then that was my problem. We all knew how to use the washing machine, didn’t we? Now, as a mother of a large family, I have a laundress - one of my older daughters. She wanted to earn some money and I offered to pay her for doing the laundry - washing, hanging (we only use the dryer in the winter), folding and putting away. She took me up on the offer and has a nice little growing nest egg. If one of my sons had offered, I would have given the job to him, but we’re pretty sexist around here and the boys get the outside and gross jobs (like cleaning out the chicken coop). I have no fears for the future of my sons’ laundry - when my eldest went away to college he quickly learned to do his own laundry (but still doesn’t see the need for an iron). Which shows that if a liberal arts student can master the skill, anyone can.
HYSTERICAL. i’m long past the age of having little ones underfoot and you still had me laughing throughout. Truth and humor at the same time. Good time. Good writing.
Yes, I enjoyed the blog and the comments. But if you’d like to escape the sock problem entirely: http://www.sock-locks.com/
Brilliant.
Sock bins are also the best form of disciplining children. Example: “Go make 5 or 10 (increase number as offense dictates) pairs of socks.” This is the gold standard of punishments for a large family I know, and it really works! Quiet time, constructive service to others, totally objective ending… Use the full power of the sock bin!
Ha! Actually what came up on my screen WAS partially knocked off the end… but off the end of the title! In my inbox your blog title came up as “Everything I really need to know, I learned by Screwing”. Certainly caused me to raise my eyebrows for a second!
This:
“You married your spouse for a reason. Let your kids belong to both of you.”
I so identify with you on the TV thing. My father was employed for his entire career at General Electric (back in the day when they made TVs) and we owned one tiny black & white TV which we were allowed to watch for 1 hour per week, on Sunday evenings. In turn I limited my children’s TV time when they were young, and it generally worked. But your point about letting the kids belong to both parents is fantastic - and very necessary. Even with grown children, this is good for me to remember.
He told me to stay calm and let the spell do it’s work, which indeed it did. Not even 3-4 days later, Wells called me and asked me out for a drink. He apologized to me and sincerely begged me for forgiveness and to give him another chance. I loved this man so much, I could not say no. He now treats me like a princess better than before if I may add. Dr. cool made a believer out of me. I wrote to him and apologized for my rudeness and lack of trust and patience. He also explained to me that magic is not like a push-button kind of thing. It sometimes takes longer than anticipated but it always works and he was right. You may also need help in your love life and recommend him as he is a great spell caster. Contact him via: Agumaguspelltemple@gmail.com
wow, I’m looking back almost with sweet nostalgia for the time when I had eighteen feet in my house! my father lived with us from the day we were married…but now with only six feet left, including two of my own, you make it all sound so wonderful. I think I did like being so busy that I had no time to actually reflect on what God might be wanting of me. It was too obvious. So enjoy it now while you have all that sweet family chaos..the emptying next begins soon enough. Now that I actually have peace and quiet, perhaps God wants me to write about all that I have learned and how I learned it. You may have begun a trend, dear Simcha. Peace to you!
I can not wait to read this to my children. Thank you!
I used to get the power button lesson too…unfortunately I started getting that lesson from Veronica multiple times a day. Then I realized that in Vista I could go to Control Panel>Power Options and then “Choose what the power buttons do” in the left hand column and make it do nothing.
My favorite: “You can get lots of wonderful life experience, but never have time to write about it, or you can have peace and quiet, and nothing to say. Choose one.”
Erin Manning, I heart you. We already have “days” where we know whose turn it is to set the table, get dibs on the TV (should it come on), scoop the catbox… Then days to do their laundry? Brilliant!!
We use a dryer for laundry loads. Husband’s socks often adhere inside other garments.
Solution: match up loose socks. Put unmatched socks loose in the front of the sock drawer. The mate will be along in a while.
Seriously, Simcha, love your columns.
TeaPot562
To balance out my “commenting karma,” I want to say that the sock bin idea is brilliant.
I also wash and return socks inside out, if they are put into the dirty-clothing receptacle that way. And I have a sock bin just for solitary socks waiting for their mates to turn up, but to put ALL socks in there is nothing short of magical thinking.
Fortunately for me, it is my partner who folds all the laundry in our house, because he doesn’t like the way I do it.
Also, with socks…my partner is the only one with any variety. I buy everyone else mostly the same socks. Sure, there are three different sizes, but it’s easier to match if the 10-year old wears nothing but that 12-pack of identical pairs socks, the 15-year old wears mostly her school uniform socks, etc.
“Sock bins aren’t catholic” has to be an even funnier comment than ALL of yours together Simcha.
Also, I am way cooler than you…I figured out “the sock bin” approach by baby number 6 and I haven’t looked back once. I’m pretty sure Our Holy Mother highly approves of me spending time with my kids rather than telling them to take a hike while I pair twenty million socks.
Simcha, I get a least one good laugh reading your column. Loved the baby and the glowing power button!
Hmmm.
I just buy all the same socks. Or at least enough of each kinds to make plenty of matches. Athletic socks… all the same type. Black trouser socks… all one type. Brown trouser socks all the same type.
That way if one goes missing - or I put a toe through a hole, they all still match.
I decided I didn’t like fighting with mismatches, and I don’t have any kids or spousal socks to wrangle.
My husband’s mother had a great idea, and bought a different brand of socks for each child, son #1 always had nike, son #2 adidas etc. So they could at least be returned to the rightful wearer. another mother I knew did not let her boys wear any white socks until they were past the stage where socks come back blacked on the bottom. moms sure spend a lot of time thinking about laundry, don’t we! My mom had a sockbin and we got $0.05 per pair for matching. we also had shelves in the laundry room where all our clean clothes went and it was our job to go retrieve it.
I make a concerted efforted to buy only ONE KIND of sock; that way, they always match. When you have a range of feet sizes, buy one kind of one color sock for small feet, one kind of a different color sock for medium feet, and one kind of a 3rd color sock for large feet. Little kids can be easily trained to search out grey socks, and to get all proud and excited when they graduate to BLACK socks! Woohoo! And when you’re REALLY big, you’ll wear WHITE socks!! go crazy and swoon!
ROFL!
Here’s what I learnt even though I sort of don’t need to know it yet:
PRIORITIES:
1. GOD
2. HUSBAND/WIFE
3. KIDS
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/yimcatholic/2012/10/god-gave-us-the-vote-so-we-could-make-fools-of-ourselves-while-his-will-prevails.html
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