It's official. After helping Brett pack yesterday for his trip home, I realized that none of my oldest three children inherited my knack for organizing. I had envisioned walking into Brett's dorm room and all of his clothes neatly fold on the bed waiting to go into suitcases. Instead they were strewn all over the room. Brett said that he tried to fold them, but just couldn't get the hang of it.
I am still laughing about it today. In my mind everything has a place and is neatly put away. Having four children I realize that my dream of a perfectly organized house has gone by the wayside. Organization is just not that important to Brett, Meg or Cal. They laugh at me when I offer suggestions. Cal carries around one ripped up folder with all of his papers shoved into it. I have cleaned out Meg's locker more times than I can count this year to find whatever she is sure is not in there, but always is.
I really think the problem with their organization is me. I spent so much time when they were younger helping them keep everything in order that I drove them crazy. This is their secret way of getting back at me. There is hope, however. Cameron shows signs of inheriting my skill for organization. I am probably just dreaming, but until I have to clean out his closet to find his golf shirt I will be hopeful.
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