Zen and the Art of Housekeeping

So, the boys are back in school and happy as can be, and you would think I would have more time on my hands to get organized, update the blog, keep the house clean, and all of that.  But, instead, I find myself in a constant state of chaos, with fifteen minutes here and there between dropping off at school, trips to Target to pick up soccer gear, parent meetings, and on and on and on.  Plus, now it's just me and Ruby at home, so whenever we are here, I have a little shadow following me around the house getting into trouble.  Right now she's sitting on the floor beside me with my coffee cup, eating ice from the bottom (since I can never finish a cup of coffee, I have to convert it to iced coffee halfway through, and as soon as Ruby sees me do that, she starts demanding "i-ee" until it's all gone).  So nothing is really getting done, but I'm trying to be at peace with it.  This morning in carpool I discussed with the boys (Finn, Gus and our carpool buddy Owen) the concept of Zen.  I told them that if we could achieve zen in the morning carpool (rather than the usual mayhem of shoes being thrown about, hair being pulled, threats being made (by me)), we would all enjoy a happier day.  They didn't know what zen was, and I admit I'm a little fuzzy on the actual concept, but I suggested that we could only achieve it through quiet, and it actually worked, at least until we arrived at school and all three boys wanted to be first out of the car, meaning they had to pile onto one another to get out.  Oh well.

As for me, I don't know if zen would help me not be anxious when I look out into our back yard and see weeds and massive shrub overgrowth taking over everywhere.  Or when I walk through the playroom to get something out of the downstairs freezer and see every single lego we own covering the floor in a sea of disorganization.  Is this discomfort with disorganization something that just comes on as women age?  I know that in college I was a big slob, letting my half of a tiny dorm room go native until either parents' weekend or the end of school was approaching.  I'm thinking it must be an evolutionary urge, making women - especially mother-women - crazy at the sight of something out of control the way our playroom or shoe area seems to always be.  As if I could finally "get everything organized and keep it that way"(my ultimate desire), then everything would be perfect.  I think I like car trips for this very reason - I can get everything packed and organized in the back of the car and, because it's such a small little universe, I can maintain that order by tidying everything each day.  Plus, in the case of a car trip, the children are literally restrained in car seats and cannot disrupt the order I have imposed in the car.  Ahem.  Controlling much?  I know, it's true.  But I'm just saying that I would like life to be like that, not that I actually achieve it or even try very hard.  Instead of cleaning and organizing, Ruby and I spend our mornings on walks, doing errands, making cupcakes or playing with little friends.  And then I have a little moment of panic when I think of all the tasks I didn't get done all day, but by that time it's usually too late to do anything about it, so a nice glass of red wine takes care of it.  Zen or wine, whatever works.