Birthday Breakdown



If starting a new life at 65 is possible then there’s no question that I can.  I’m young and spry enough to tackle my son when he runs off with my bag of Ghirardelli Semisweets; there’s no question of, “am I too old to wear this?” …when throwing on a yoga tank top and heading out the door.  I am glad that my current nitty gritty isn’t about a new relationship with food – as I eat a cupful of ice cream to help cease the tears …ahhh, comfort!

Nope, the challenge beating me down is about organization, my old nemesis.

I’ve already bore the ‘child that saved us’.  We’ve already ‘lost it all’ and we are thankfully on our way back.  I’ve grown up a lot over the last 8 years since meeting my spouse, and I’ve learned more than I thought I had signed up for the hard way.

In reflection, I realize that all the hard knocks of our path have been encouraged by my tendency to just fly by the seat of my pants.  The hubby really hasn’t appreciated this much and it shows in his not so ‘Happy’ remarks today…

Here I am, again overwhelmed by my own life.  I feel like my sheer willpower to manage everything loses momentum to chaos; what’s a Mom to do!?!  Mothers are the keepers of a family’s sanity, and I really don’t want to fail.  This is lonely, and not where I want to be on my birthday.

Over the years I’ve learned that it’s always best to just be honest, to recognize my challenges with clarity.  What I see are three beautifully spoiled children, a big house to move into and an untamed future certainly needing more structure for the better of all.

I sigh and hop on my computer with the intention to embark on a mission for organization which just might alleviate my pain.

I read an article online about hooks for kids to hang backpacks on, and plastic tubs for toys.  Google introduces me to the FLY Lady, which seems much like AA for disorganized mothers, and I’m in.  I speak with my girlfriend and Hip Mum inspiration who tells me she has her 3 yr old washing dishes (what a great idea!) My mom suggests that I work on one behavior or chore at a time each week for the kids to really catch on.  And my dear husband’s fervent requests for me to make lists, carry around a notebook and wear a fanny pack (Really, a fanny pack!??) reverberates between my ears.

I guess I am humbled by motherhood and the demand of the household and our family.  Crying on my birthday about having to cancel a yoga class due to a nanny not showing up is a pretty ironic medium to finally get through to me.  Had my purse not been stolen a few weeks ago I may not have come to this.  Now is the time for a reconstruction in my own life and home.  The fashion no (dare I say?) FANNY pack is to make its place on my hip, it’s now or never.

My breakdown is a gift in disguise.  My quest to raise strong, happy, and definitive children begins with the overhaul of my own methods.  I’ll try to keep an open mind.

This year I’d like to take a trip to the orphanage with my kids to see how the staff manages all those children at once.  I resolve to create order in my life even if breaking the norm of acceptable.  I want to run our home with the effectiveness of a top notch orphanage.  I want my kids to appreciate things like those children do.  I have to be the change I wish to see in the world.

My next words will be “Thank you Honey, I actually really love the idea of a fanny pack, will you get one for me? I want to be more organized”

I thank G-d for the irony in life, and the wonderful people whom surround me with sound advice.  The changes I make for the better will definitely override the fashion police; I’m cool with that.  Happy Birthday to me!

Dana Rice

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