Bye bye chaos

Hello order and structure

Good. From the outside, everything seems quite in order with me. I am usually on time for an appointment, am freshly washed, my children always leave the house looking sharp (coming home is another story) with me having applied the latest catwalk braid techniques on them. The house is tidy, the sheets are ironed. You would think there’s nothing wrong.

But underneath it is CHAOS. Really. I am ashamed of myself. And that is going to change from now on. Starting with a good resolution on January 1st is so over. Today is the day. From now on, there is a life B.C. (Before Chaos) and A.C., my divine, organized, streamlined, flowing, carefree, orderly, perfect life.

 What is all wrong?

First of all, there’s the school issue. And the school agenda. Now I can remember that on Wednesday the library book has to go along and that fruit is eaten as a snack instead of a cookie. I do wonder why fruit can’t be brought every day or a cookie every day, but okay. I’ll park these life questions. My friend F., who has quite a solid career and happens to have a daughter in the same class, whispers to me in the hallway, “Wednesday is really the toughest day of the week. We have to find that library book and bring fruit.”

My girl has stood on the schoolyard because I forgot the study afternoon. Why, why, WHY don’t schools organize those study days for teachers during the holidays? I just don’t get it. But okay. In the meantime, the study days are written in bold letters in the agenda because your heart breaks, of course, as a mother.

Then there are the other events like apple picking. On Sunday I read that the children had to wear rain boots for the apple picking. I was so happy, I had just bought them the day before. Coincidence does not exist. Proudly, my child and I walked into the class with our rain boots. “Oh how nice, rain boots. Just take them off for a moment, okay,” said the teacher with a slight disapproval in her gaze. “The apple picking is next Monday.”

So far for my mistakes as a mother. Clothing-wise, there’s always something missing. A Prada sunglasses, a pair of Chanel pumps, a bag, my dearest Mason Pierson. There’s always something I’m missing and it always comes back to me in a completely miraculous way.

So far for my mistakes as a mother. Clothing-wise, there’s always something missing.

Now we have arrived at the point of administration. Important letters and bills I carry with me in my Chanel laptop sleeve. It’s super handy because a lot fits in it. The fuller it gets, the more I catch myself just lifting it a tiny bit, grabbing my laptop out and quickly closing it again. Out of sight, out of mind, out of my thoughts. I have a few friends who, like me, suffer from the phobia of opening envelopes. No idea what it is. There’s money in the account, we can pay for everything but I just don’t want to have the tax office, the overview of my savings pension so far, my DigiD activation code (as soon as I receive it, I’ll lose my password and login name again) in my thoughts. Childish, I know.

The fuller it gets, the more I catch myself just lifting it a tiny bit, grabbing my laptop out and quickly closing it again.

So it’s time for change. I just opened all the reminder envelopes from Accountor. All small amounts. DVDs from Bol.com for which I can’t find the invoice and apparently only pay when Accountor is on my back. I dutifully called the gentleman to ask if I am ‘clean’. Completely clean, said the gentleman. Look, that’s a nice start to a new life.

Envelopes are immediately ripped open. I have hired Liesbeth to watch me with her strictest gaze when boring mail lands on my desk. Because those packages from Chanel, of course, don’t stay unopened for long, you understand.

Then there’s the receipt issue. Last week, at the request of our accountant, I searched high and low for my box of receipts. It turned out to be on her husband’s desk. Yes, luck is not really on my side organizationally either.

I just don’t want to have the tax office, the overview of my savings pension so far, and my DigiD activation code in my thoughts.

To prevent this kind of practice, I now have a gi-gantic pink receipt box. A blind horse wouldn’t miss it.

I let my dearest Jet sort those receipts for me. She is the most organized accountant for me. Although she has lost the company bank card twice. In two weeks. Well, let’s just say we have other talents.

I will keep you updated.