Refrigerator Magnets

You can tell a lot about a person by what is hanging on their fridge. For example, by looking at my refrigerator, you would be able to tell that I have traveled a bit, that I try to be a compassionate person, that I like to inject a little bit of humor into my every day life, that I love my kids, and that I cannot remember anything unless it is written down in a place where I will see it at least three times a day. By looking at my fridge, no one would doubt that I am a mom. At any given time, there are several finger paintings, report cards, crayon drawings, spelling word lists, and reminders for various school/PTA sponsored events plastering the front of my old off-white GE refrigerator. Some of the artwork is held up by magnets boasting sayings such as, "Scribbling is the new........."; underneath there are three possible options with check boxes......"Dadaism, Impressionism, Sign of genius". I have several of these magnets, each with a different snarky comment about children's artwork. Yes, my refrigerator is a small reflection of my personality. But above all, I think it shows that I am a real mom. This post is actually inspired by a conversation I had with a friend a few days ago. I was picking my son up from her house. I began admiring her beautifully framed black and white family photos. Soon, my eyes began searching the rest of the room. I think when we are in someone else's home, we tend to scope it out, whether consciously or subconsciously, to try and find out a little more about them. I also think that we notice when someone in our house is scoping it out to try and find out more about us. And, as women, we begin to apologize for anything they may see that is not perfect, anything that may be slightly out of order. Sometimes these apologies can involve a little truth bending......."That pile of papers is out of control today.....I don't know what the kids threw on there.....that counter is normally spotless." I don't know about you, but I have one counter in my kitchen that is the "catch-all" counter. It is where mail, and well, basically anything else that doesn't make it to an otherwise specified location ends up. About once a week, I go through "the pile". The counter stays uncluttered (and therefore visible) for approximately ten minutes. If I didn't do my weekly catch-all cleanup, I would have no idea what the surface of this counter looked like. I think we all have places in our home like this. Some of us may have deeper junk drawers, and therefore our clutter is less obvious. Anderson Cooper, who is widely known as being somewhat of a neat freak, even admitted to having a clutter closet.

As I scoped out my friend's living room/kitchen area, my eyes fell on the refrigerator. Plastered. Just like mine. I instantly felt a little bit closer to my friend. I then realized we were even more alike, when she followed my gaze and immediately began to apologize for the clutter on her fridge. I then explained to her that it looked almost zen like compared to the explosion that is the front (not to mention sides) of my refrigerator. This seemed to put her at ease. After mentioning one of our more Martha Stewartesque friends, who did not have a single magnet, sticky note, or photo adorning her refrigerator, my friend came to the conclusion that "real moms have refrigerator magnets." In the home I grew up in, the refrigerator was a place of honor for artwork, A papers, and other various kid crafts. We always knew we must have done something well if it got a spot on the fridge! For years, my mom had little plastic flower framed magnets with our pictures in the middle, which we had made at church one year, hanging front and center on our Kenmore. By the time my parents built their new home, complete with an empty nest fridge (these refrigerators tend to boast a lot less clutter than the young family fridge), the photo flower magnets had become so sun-faded, that they looked like they could have been taken a few generations before. I have a similar refrigerator magnet. My daughter made it in preschool. Beneath her picture, are the words "I love you mom", written in big bubble letters and colored in with crayon. It is already becoming faded. I wonder how it will look in twenty years!

I'm pretty sure it will still be there by then. I used to be like my Martha Stewart friend. When Morgan was a baby, I would actually follow her around during the day and clean up after her as she played. When Hyrum came along, we would at least try to keep the toys in the kid's rooms. Since having Ryan, I just let the explosion happen. If I know company is coming over, toys can be seen flying through the hallway in the direction of the children's rooms. But, in general, we clean up before bed. I am not sure if this gradual decline in my cleaning regimen is occurring simply because I am constantly exhausted, or because I am learning to embrace the chaos. I think I was in denial for a few years. I like things organized. I like them in their place. I like order. For a while, I think I was in denial of the fact that my ordered world had been overturned by tiny people and that the best I could now hope for was controlled chaos. My OCD rehab is still a work in progress. There are days (Dirk will tell you, because he has to remind me to breathe on these days) when I turn into a cleaning machine. I think this is an inherited trait from my father. Once I start, I can't stop until everything is in it's place, dust free, polished, sparkling.....well you get the idea. On these days, Martha Stewart could probably walk into my house without being too appalled. There are days, however, and these are becoming more frequent, when I can look around at the clutter, at the fingerprints on the glass, at the empty pudding cups on the table and realize that I am living in the most glorious form of chaos imaginable. My house may never earn a Good Housekeeping seal of approval, but it is a real mom house. It may be full of clutter, but it is also full of laughter. It is a place where my children can feel safe and validated, loved and important. My refrigerator is plastered with proof of that.