Thanksgiving is only three days away. As I prepare to gather with family and friends, I can feel myself beginning to sweat the small stuff. I am making lists in my head that include things like paint front door and purge house of all clutter and world peace. In the midst of the planning, I am reminded not to take myself too seriously.
I have a habit of doing that, being too serious in my head about things that aren’t all that important. I’m going to take my cue from my niece and enjoy each moment as it comes. I wish the same for you.

Speaking of making space, I am trying to de-clutter because I can’t find my iPod and we have too much stuff and I think Simple Mom is cool.

The following items are standing in my way.

• One special edition pop-out map of Atlanta. It fits in my pocket! Granted I haven’t been to Atlanta in over 3 years and I don’t have plans to go. But when I do go, how cool would it be to have a special edition pop-out map?!

• teeny tiny earrings that I’ll never wear but my MIL told me not to sell at a yard sale because she bought them for me and well, they’re real. Don’t ask me what kind of real because I don’t know. But it basically means I can’t donate them, sell them or throw them away.

• two small, momma/child figurines brought straight from the home of The Man’s very healthy and delightful 95-year-old grandmother who has been getting rid of things for the past 10 years because she believes she will surely die soon but she “just keeps breathing!” (her words not mine). (hence the quotes).

And. As if those things weren’t enough. Look what FedEx brought to my door last week.
Four boxes filled with everything from our totaled car. It was towed from the scene of the accident to a lot out of town so they had to ship all of our things to us. I was all put out because we hadn’t gotten our things out earlier and it was so inconvenient to have to wait for our things and when is it all gonna get here anyway? I need my things!
Here they are. Here are my things. My very important, can’t-live-without-you – things. Can I begin to explain to you how discouraging it is to get a box of trash in the mail? How about FOUR BOXES OF TRASH? Seriously, did I drive around with all this trash in my car all the time? Am I a person? Because I’m seriously beginning to wonder if I have whiskers and a really long tail.

Nothing says “de-clutter” like having FedEx back their ginormous truck into your driveway and deliver four boxes of your very important trash. At least it was easy to throw all that away. But what to do with the pop-out map of Atlanta?

The restaurant was only half full but the table was crowded: five adults and four children gathered around two squares pulled together with plates and food and napkins piled high.

The Man and his brother had gone to get the drinks and found us all settled in our seats upon their return. Only two chairs were left, right next to one another, crowded between our four-year-old on one end and me on the other, our not-so-small son heavy on my lap, stealing a pre-dinner nap.

The brothers hesitated, glancing at one another as if to see which one was going to eat at another restaurant, as no one could possibly expect these two over six-feet-tall men to squeeze into this tiny space, much less eat there with all the elbow action and room a man needs to consume food properly.

They needed space. Technically speaking, the space was there. They could have sat next to each other. They could have made it work. But there would have been no room for a dropped fork under the table or simultaneous bites, not to mention conversation.

There would have been no room to breathe.

I need room to breathe, too. I need space in my days and weeks and months to think and mull and ponder. Even as I have cut back on appointments and outings and commitments, I still find myself awake past my bedtime to simply soak in the quiet. My soul needs space. And it doesn’t come easy. It doesn’t come without a price and it doesn’t come on its own.

I have to make it come. Because life is messy and fluid and maddeningly unpredictable.

That is why I have to plan for space. Because when the fork drops, I want the opportunity to take my time, stoop down in my seat, take all the room I need and pick it up proper without harming the people around me or bumping my head on the bottom of the table.