Barbara Reich - Secrets of an Organized Mom: From the Overflowing Closets to the Chaotic Play Areas: A Room-by-Room Guide to Decluttering and Streamlining Your Home for a Happier Family

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Copyright 2013 by Barbara Reich

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First Atria Books hardcover edition February 2013

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Designed by Kyoko Watanabe

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Reich, Barbara.

Secrets of an organized mom : from the overflowing closets to the chaotic play areas : a room-by-room guide to decluttering and streamlining your home for a happier family / Barbara Reich.

pages cm

1. House cleaning. 2. Orderliness. 3. Storage in the home. I. Title.

TX324.R45 2013

648.5dc23

2012026992

ISBN: 978-1-4516-7285-5 (print)

ISBN: 978-1-4516-7287-9 (ebook)

For my family, who provides me with a
steady stream of things to organize

If youre a mom, no matter whether youre married or single, and no matter how involved your partner is, I guarantee that the lions share of keeping the home together and functioning falls on your shoulders. I often joke that in my next life, Id like to come back as my husband... married to me. Im telling you, that man has a good deal. This is no insult to my husband or to anyone elses wonderful life partnerits just a fact of life that moms tend to do more. And in my years of experience working with families, Ive seen its true whether the mother works outside the home or not. Taking care of our families is what we do as moms. Its in our nature, and we couldnt stop if we tried.

This doesnt mean that its easy for us, however. And sometimes it seems to get harder every day. Our familys schedules are more chaotic, we have more stuff and more responsibilities. We have lists that get longer, never shorter, and we feel perpetually exhausted and burdened by how much we have to do and how little (we think) we actually get done.

Meanwhile, there are so many expectations of us. Were expected to nurture our childrens developing brains, volunteer at school, keep our families healthy, our homes impeccably organized and decorated, our partners romantically satisfied, and our bodies well exercised. Oh, and were also told to be sure to take time for ourselves.

Most mothers I know feel like life is one big game of Whac-A-Mole. Just when weve smacked down one problem or responsibility, another one pokes up its stubborn little head. And we keep on flailing and reacting, doing our best, but with no time to formulate a plan of attack.

This book is your plan.

When I had my twins (who are now thirteen years old), I scaled back from full-time management consulting to part-time. I was used to commuting to an office for twelve-hour workdays, wearing power suits and heels. So it was a big transition for me. I loved being a mom and enjoyed meeting other parents, but often enough Id find myself getting a little antsy on playdates. Id look around for something to do, and Id end up organizing the toys and straightening the shelves.

You can quickly gain a reputation for yourself by doing that. So when a friend of mine heard of someone who needed help setting up a home office, she suggested that he hire me. And no, she didnt ask me first. Bless her, though, that first referral quickly multiplied into more, and before long I had a business that I love.

The truth is that the seeds for my home organizing business were planted long before that. I was born to organize, but it wasnt until I turned eight that my talents were recognized by others. That year marked a life-changing turning point for me. Twice in one twelve-month period I was publicly acknowledged for being a neat freak. And by acknowledged, I mean rewarded. It was heady, that praise. It was addictive. It was like the first smattering of applause for the wannabe star in the grammar school play. After that, its Hollywood or bust. For me, a career as a professional organizer became my destiny.

I grew up in South Florida, the land of sunshine, beaches, and chain stores. The biggest grocery chain was Publix, and they were always having some kind of contest or promotion. So when they advertised a coloring contest, I decided to enter. Each contestant was given an intricate design with a circus motif and lots of tiny details to fill in with color. I sat down, and I didnt stop coloring that piece of paper until every single square centimeter was filled in.

I can still remember the phone ringing one afternoon and my mother saying to me, Barbara, you have a phone call. I could tell from her tone of voice that it was something important. I held the receiver tentatively, nervously, and an adult voice on the other end told me that I had won the Publix coloring contest. And the prize? A ticket for me and one adult to see the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circusand to meet the world-famous lion tamer Gunther Gebel-Williams. Not only that, but Id get to take an afternoon off from school because they werent about to give us free tickets to a weekend show.

It shouldnt have surprised me that I won the contest. I had to be the only child who not only colored entirely within the lines but also made sure every single crayon stroke went in the same direction. If I made a mistake, I peeled off the wax with my fingernails or meticulously covered my error with white crayon. It was a masterwork of single-minded devotion to detail. How could I lose?

If winning werent enough positive reinforcement, imagine my preadolescent joy when the platinum-blond and shirtless Gunther Gebel-Williams pulled up in front of my front-row seat and invited me to take a ride around the center ring in his horse-pulled cart. The crowd, the lights, the cheers. More important: Gunther Gebel-Williamss tight white bell-bottoms and perma-tan. This was potent stuff for an eight-year-old girl.

If my first reward for neatness was all about romance, my second was all about terror. My parents sent me to a summer camp that I adored beyond all reason. It was called Camp Universe, and it was perched next to the shimmering waters of Lake Miona in Wildwood, Florida. I look back on my time there and wonder a bit if my parents didnt misread the pamphlet and ship me off to boot camp instead of summer camp. We were constantly being lined up to do somethingin size order from shortest to tallest. And our cabin would lose points if our line werent perfectly straight.

Right before visiting day, the camp would conduct what was called the Moss Hunt. Remember, this was Florida, so moss grew everywhere. But rather than hire people to clean it up, the camp came up with the brilliant idea of making it an activity for the campers. Im telling you: This wasnt summer camp, it was a chain gang. Wed be out in the blazing heat and humidity, picking up piles of moss (Spanish was the most valuable find, because it was the rarest) and stacking it in heaps for removal. The camp staff would measure each cabins piles, and the cabin with the tallest piles got the most points. In addition to moss, there was an elaborate system of points for all the gum and candy wrappers, bottle tops, and beer bottle caps we could find. My cabin always won the competition, thanks to my zeal for the job.