Observations of Orderliness

I don't know if Orderliness is an actual word, but I know I was raised with it. My Mom and her Mom and all down the line always had things in order, which was probably why my birth father's polio/spinal meningitis was such a monkey wrench in life. No one ever really knew how to deal with that one.

My Mom makes me somewhat crazy each night, and I wrote about this before,with her making sure everything is in exactly the correct place before she can go to bed. I mean, there cannot be a wrinkle in her bed sheets, bed pad and so on. All bureau drawers must closed tightly, nothing ajar. Since Mom doesn't want to go to bed much before 11-11:30, I have long run out patience.

When I think of my own children and how this influenced me, I feel sad. When my daughter was born, my Mom said "don't ever take a baby out to a restaurant, they will bother the other people. If you want to go out, call me and I will take care of her." I was always uptight taking the kids out after that. I was also resentful when I couldn't go.(I am amazed and delighted at all the young parents who bring their children with them today. I wish I had the courage to have done that.) Although my house was child proofed, it was also important to have things tidy and put away. Not much of a creative atmosphere for a child.

I guess I am aware of this lately because I am not all that tidy anymore. Since I am always on call for whatever is needed, doing laundry, prepping meals, when and if I start a piece of jewelry or a painting, I often leave it to return to later. I could work in my studio, but then I would be out of the house. If Mom needed me, I wouldn't know.

So it kind of rankles me, when I wheel her into the living room and she remarks as we pass the dining room table, "Ugh, that looks terrible, you need to clean that up." That, being the way I used to make some money. I think that is what made me remember how long this has been drummed into me.

There is certainly the part that I played in younger days: for a person that was such a defiant child,why was I so afraid to lose Mom's approval when I grew up? The answer: who knows? Therapy anyone?