Details. Details.

I'm not fatalistic. I don't believe that things happen for a reason, that there's some grand plan or someone pulling the strings. My life would be much easier if I did believe these things. My conviction otherwise leads me to "sweat the small stuff, "or more accurately, get a little sweaty when I realize I've actually been neglecting the details. My mind is always racing about the big picture—if my family feels loved, if I'm fully present in my children's presence... So much so, that I often find myself scrambling to take care of the "little things." Like, say, uh feeding my children. Not that that should be classified as small, now that I think about it.

Just the other day, I made Hawthorne's lunch, packed his snack, made sure his red folder with signed forms and a donation to the music program were in his backpack. I zipped the kids' jackets and gave them big hugs before they left. Then, Ainsley asked about her lunch box. Oh, yeah. So, I sent her off without it and promised to drop it off on my way to work. Carter called to remind me that not only had I forgotten her lunch box, I had also forgotten her blanket and sleepy toy for nap time. Jeez. So I packed it all up and put it with my work stuff so I wouldn't forget it again. But you know how this story goes, don't you? I pulled into my office, reached over for my bag, and with a defeated sigh, said, "Oh, shit" to Ainsley's pile of things still sitting in the passenger's seat.

I just don't seem to have the brain power for it all. My nephew, whose birthday is a month before Ainsley's, is going to get his present several days from now. I signed up to take breakfast to Ainsley's school for teacher appreciation this week. I took danish and juice on Monday and then noticed yesterday, that I actually signed up to take breakfast today, so I had to do it all again this morning. And yesterday, Carter had to drive all the way back to the house from campus to bring me my keys that I left in his car. It's not a pretty picture for a 36 year old. This morning, a friend with older children told me that I better get it together because it only gets more complicated the more involved they get in other activities. Oh boy.

Simplifying really is helping though. I'm happier. I like the perception of order, even if the real order isn't quite there yet. I bought new lamps for the bedroom. OK, that has nothing to do with simplifying, but it makes the room brighter and looks pretty, and that's always a step in the right direction. Now I'm on a quest to finish decorating the bedroom, furnish the deck, and find the perfect pair of pewter/bronze sandals. Oh, I also got rid of all the bad plastic, so that's a load off. And I can feel a real routine coming just around the corner. An actual schedule that I stick to. I'm determined. Really, I am.