I’m the type of person who’s often running behind — late for hair appointments, late to join the Real Housewives mania, late in posting this column, late in losing my virginity — so, naturally, I am behind on my spring cleaning this year. About four years late, I estimate, given I haven’t really done more than occasionally pick up the dust kitties that collect in our corners (our cats shed so much fur, we could launch an amazing line of Phil Spector-inspired hair pieces) since we moved in, oh, four years ago.
However, now that we are parents and responsible for a young life — how the U.S. government let that happen, I’ll never know — I figure it is time to roll up our sleeves and organize the place so that our baby doesn’t get lost in a pile of dirty clothes or eat a stray furball bigger than Rhode Island. Because that’s the kind of overachieving mother I am. Also, because Gerber doesn’t carry a line of hairball care snacks for babies. I checked. Just in case. *Ahem*
The main disaster area I am tackling is our bedroom. And by tackling, I mean just that: literally jumping on a pile of discarded blouses here, a runaway sock there, and wrestling them to the ground before they escape in search of a closet big enough to house them.
“I don’t know what to do with all these clothes!” I whine while elbow-dropping a silk romper inching its way toward the door.
“Why don’t you get rid of some of them?” Mr. Candy asks, rolling his eyes, with apparently no concern whatsoever for whether he remains wed or, you know, alive.
Luckily for him, I am too busy headbutting a wayward pair of fuzzy boots I haven’t worn in five years to inflict any bodily harm on him. Doesn’t he know I NEED these boots in case we, um, ever head to the Himalayas for a family vacation?
The mind-boggling part is, I did fork over five bags of clothes to Goodwill before the kid arrived last year. Yet here I am, knee-deep in more clothing than ever somehow. Our air conditioner is leaking into my closet; perhaps my clothes are like Gremlins — get them wet, and they multiply! Or… maybe I pressed “Confirm Final Order” too many times on Nordstrom.com, excited to finally wear non-maternity clothes again.
But I think we can all agree how I got the clothes is not important. (Right, Mr. Candy?) What matters is how I rationalize keeping all of them. Which is why I’ve created this highly scientific, very organized categorical system explaining the current contents of my wardrobe:
THIS IS WHY CANDY NEEDS ALL OF HER CLOTHES SO STEP OFF, PEOPLE! NAH-NAH-NAH-BOO-BOO!
Category #1: The “Just in Case” Clothes
Contents: Those fuzzy boots “just in case” we go to the Himalayas; the twenty pairs of yoga pants “just in case” I decide to take up yoga; the white leather pants “just in case” I am ever a contestant on Rock of Love.
Category #2: The Stomach Flu Clothes
Contents: The size-four clothes I bought for the day I am lucky enough to get struck with a debilitating stomach flu and lose 15 pounds. (Fingers crossed!)
Category #3: The Delusional Pre-Mom Clothes
Contents: The sexier pieces of clothing I wore to bars, clubs and fancy-schmancy restaurants before becoming a mom. Despite having few occasions (and, frankly, the desire) to wear them anymore, letting go of these mini-dresses and whatnot would mean admitting those days are over. And I am not nearly evolved enough for that.
Category #4: The “But It Was Such a Bargain!” Clothing
Contents: The mostly high-end designer clothing I bought on sale but never wore because, well, there was a reason it was such a bargain: it didn’t look good. Yet I can’t possibly part with it because it’s a GUCCI DRESS, for heaven’s sake!
Category #5: The “Why Don’t I Wear This More Often?” Clothes
Contents: Perfectly lovely clothes I feel like I should be wearing more often, but rarely if ever touch. Some of them have been around for at least a decade, as I have convinced myself if I leave them in there long enough, I will eventually wear them.
Sorry, yellow button-down blouse. I promise I will get to you. Maybe in another decade.
Category #6: The Lazy Clothes
Contents: The six go-to staples, kept on the ottoman at the foot of our bed, that I end up rotating and wearing most every day. Most of the shirts are black. I pair them with the one pair of jeans in the rotation. Because I am just that creative.
Conclusion: Most of the items are obviously crucial to my very existence. To mollify Mr. Candy, however, I grudgingly will agree to part with the Lucite peep-toes. But if we ever ARE invited to a stripper’s wedding, I’m going to have to go shopping again!