I have so many jobs; chief financial officer of our household, keeper of the family calendar, head chef, head nurse, housekeeper, and on and on. I am better at some of those jobs than others, but the absolute most loathed job that I have is supply chain management, specifically, clothing procurement and storage.
It is the worst and I am the worst at it. I have three boys to keep clothed and shoed. Quite literally, one of them outgrows something nearly every day. And if they have not outgrown it, it is a new season and someone needs sandals, or baseball cleats, or shorts, or a new coat, or all of the above. And it is expensive, of course, but worse than that, I can never seem to find the time to go shopping.
And then there is the difficulty with storage. We have a house that was built in 1941, when people did not have so many clothes. And I have to attempt to keep three kids’ clothes in two tiny closets and two dressers. So that means that every season, I have to spend a day swapping out summer and winter clothes. A change of seasons means spending an entire day in a heap of clothes, trying to remember which pile is the ‘keep’ pile and which pile is the ‘donate’ pile, and which pile is for which kid, and getting confused about said piles at least a dozen times.
Last week, my dad told me I needed to buy bigger clothes for Colin because his pants were tight in the waist. The poor man hit a very raw nerve. Plus, it was the beginning of May, when my threshold for losing my sanity is significantly lower than normal. He had to listen to a five minute tirade about my 18-hour days that ended with a very snippy, “So pardon ME for being a little behind on laundry!” I do not lose my cool often, but when I do, I do it big. I think I get that trait from my dad, so he probably had it coming, actually.
And then tonight, when I realized that I really need to do the seasonal closet swap this weekend, I thought I might start crying. It is too much for one woman! I cannot do it!
But then I remembered that I can and I do, just not very well. And that is okay. I mean, I have to have ONE flaw.