Why Sage Home?
I have always struggled to keep a tidy house. It isn't that I don't want to, or that I
don't know how, but somewhere between the two lies a gap in communication.
I was not raised in the typical American family that held neatness to be a virtue.
Quite the contrary, my hippie mother regarded people who cleaned often with the
nodding, condescending pity that one usually reserves for disabled children. Poor
dears, with nothing better to do, no more productive way to spend their energy.
Ideologically, I could see Mom's point, but I could also see that our messiness
interfered with daily life. Laundry thrown on the bed grew wrinkled and
disappeared under a felted carpet of cat hair. Dishes left on the counter for weeks
developed a terranean-like crust, and we had to spend five minutes scrubbing
whenever we wanted to use a fork. Dinner as most people know it was not a habit.
We ate what we felt like eating, when we were hungry, wherever we could find a
seat not smothered in dust and dander.
My life, I swore, was not going to be like this.
But it was, at least at first. Newly adult, I worked two jobs and attended full-time
college classes. Where does one find time to clean between all that? When I
found myself a single mother, each moment was even more precious. Then, I
remarried, became pregnant, and quit my job in the space of a year. There was no
excuse.
Flylady was my purple-winged angel. Suddenly cleaning was easy, broken down
into a series of repeating tasks and routines. Communication was in the form of
friendly, encouraging, yet firm emails. Now it is time to do this. Now that. Start
laundry. Wash your dishes. And then there were pats on the head: I'm so proud of
you!
She swooped into my life, taking on all the power and mythology of a mother
goddess. I was forever indebted. And my house was clean. But there were issues.
Flylady said wear shoes. And I only wear shoes if I am walking on prickly thorns or
frozen tundra. It's my policy. She also said that keeping an immaculate and empty
sink is the first step to cleanliness. With a football-team-sized family, I would have
to spend my entire day in the kitchen and ignore the rest of the house altogether to
accomplish this. When I emailed her asking for guidance in this issue, I received a
form answer thanking me, but nothing else. But, at last, there was a scheduled
Flylady chat. Now I could get some answers.
By the time I had my toddlers in bed, Flylady had left the building. So I asked the
Flybabies still lurking if there were any mothers of large families, especially those
with small children. There weren't, but I was encouraged to ask my questions of
the general group.
How do you balance the housework with caring for the house and caring for the
children and managing an at-home business? I asked. It's a matter of attitude, I
was told. This seemed a little self-righteous considered that most of the flybabies
in attendance lived with small families or no children at all, but I continued. I'm
feeling overwhelmed because I have no time. I feel like I'm always brushing the
kids off so I can do a decluttering mission.
Is your sink clean? asked one.
At times, yes. On a regular basis, in fact.
My problem wasn't with the condition of my house so much as the fact that I was
perpetually bombarded with conflicting needs, but no one seemed to understand.
First, they said that if I had the right attitude, my children would joyfully help me in
keeping the house neat. Anyone who thinks this has never dealt directly with a
six-month-old infant or a pack of teenaged boys.
Then Madame Feminazi took the floor. If you are overwhelmed, your husband
needs to do more, she said.
I assured her that my husband worked twelve hour days at a physically demanding
job and was probably even more overwhelmed. But she, and the group, were
insistent. I was equally insistent.
Then they seized upon it: the problem was my attitude. Not the demands of a large
family plus a small home daycare and a writing career assigned to the wee hours
of morning, not the exhaustion of cleaning while children hang from you like
sweater-clad barnacles.
I gave up. The most upsetting aspect was that I had gone there asking for help, not
for negative assumptions about my personality. While none of them could give me
a viable answer to my questions, they were all quick to assume that I was the
problem. Because Flylady works for everyone... or does it?
The next day, I checked out the message board at MOMYS (Mothers of Many Young
Siblings, a message board for us prolific types) and saw Large Family Logistics
mentioned. It came highly recommended from these veteran moms, which was
encouraging enough for me to consider trying another plan.
Kim Brenneman, the founder and administrator, has a house-full of her own. A
veteran farm wife and homeschooler, she knows about juggling competing
demands. Her system is very similar to Flylady's, with schedules and routines and
deep cleaning rotations. But she has replaced the extraneous, the perpetually
polished sinks and 27-fling boogies, with prayer and phonics. The only problem
was that she seemed to pack much, much more into a day than seemed humanly
possible. When asked by another visitor how she managed, it came up that she is
a pro at delegating. Maybe too much of a pro. Her older children do the majority of
the childcare and housework while she acts more as a home manager. I'm not
going to bash her technique, but it isn't for me.
A friend at a Yahoo group was quick to point out that I could easily modify either
program to get the results I wanted. But if I could do that, I told her, I wouldn't need
to borrow someone else's organizational method in the first place. I wanted to
keep my house neat without thinking about it. I wanted time in my life for, well, my
life. I knew I shouldn't criticize someone else's programs when I couldn't come up
with one of my own, but--
And that's when I realized that I should make my own program. A year later, here it
is!
Step One: Routines
I have always struggled to keep a tidy house. It isn't that I don't want to, or that I
don't know how, but somewhere between the two lies a gap in communication.
I was not raised in the typical American family that held neatness to be a virtue.
Quite the contrary, my hippie mother regarded people who cleaned often with the
nodding, condescending pity that one usually reserves for disabled children. Poor
dears, with nothing better to do, no more productive way to spend their energy.
Ideologically, I could see Mom's point, but I could also see that our messiness
interfered with daily life. Laundry thrown on the bed grew wrinkled and
disappeared under a felted carpet of cat hair. Dishes left on the counter for weeks
developed a terranean-like crust, and we had to spend five minutes scrubbing
whenever we wanted to use a fork. Dinner as most people know it was not a habit.
We ate what we felt like eating, when we were hungry, wherever we could find a
seat not smothered in dust and dander.
My life, I swore, was not going to be like this.
But it was, at least at first. Newly adult, I worked two jobs and attended full-time
college classes. Where does one find time to clean between all that? When I
found myself a single mother, each moment was even more precious. Then, I
remarried, became pregnant, and quit my job in the space of a year. There was no
excuse.
Flylady was my purple-winged angel. Suddenly cleaning was easy, broken down
into a series of repeating tasks and routines. Communication was in the form of
friendly, encouraging, yet firm emails. Now it is time to do this. Now that. Start
laundry. Wash your dishes. And then there were pats on the head: I'm so proud of
you!
She swooped into my life, taking on all the power and mythology of a mother
goddess. I was forever indebted. And my house was clean. But there were issues.
Flylady said wear shoes. And I only wear shoes if I am walking on prickly thorns or
frozen tundra. It's my policy. She also said that keeping an immaculate and empty
sink is the first step to cleanliness. With a football-team-sized family, I would have
to spend my entire day in the kitchen and ignore the rest of the house altogether to
accomplish this. When I emailed her asking for guidance in this issue, I received a
form answer thanking me, but nothing else. But, at last, there was a scheduled
Flylady chat. Now I could get some answers.
By the time I had my toddlers in bed, Flylady had left the building. So I asked the
Flybabies still lurking if there were any mothers of large families, especially those
with small children. There weren't, but I was encouraged to ask my questions of
the general group.
How do you balance the housework with caring for the house and caring for the
children and managing an at-home business? I asked. It's a matter of attitude, I
was told. This seemed a little self-righteous considered that most of the flybabies
in attendance lived with small families or no children at all, but I continued. I'm
feeling overwhelmed because I have no time. I feel like I'm always brushing the
kids off so I can do a decluttering mission.
Is your sink clean? asked one.
At times, yes. On a regular basis, in fact.
My problem wasn't with the condition of my house so much as the fact that I was
perpetually bombarded with conflicting needs, but no one seemed to understand.
First, they said that if I had the right attitude, my children would joyfully help me in
keeping the house neat. Anyone who thinks this has never dealt directly with a
six-month-old infant or a pack of teenaged boys.
Then Madame Feminazi took the floor. If you are overwhelmed, your husband
needs to do more, she said.
I assured her that my husband worked twelve hour days at a physically demanding
job and was probably even more overwhelmed. But she, and the group, were
insistent. I was equally insistent.
Then they seized upon it: the problem was my attitude. Not the demands of a large
family plus a small home daycare and a writing career assigned to the wee hours
of morning, not the exhaustion of cleaning while children hang from you like
sweater-clad barnacles.
I gave up. The most upsetting aspect was that I had gone there asking for help, not
for negative assumptions about my personality. While none of them could give me
a viable answer to my questions, they were all quick to assume that I was the
problem. Because Flylady works for everyone... or does it?
The next day, I checked out the message board at MOMYS (Mothers of Many Young
Siblings, a message board for us prolific types) and saw Large Family Logistics
mentioned. It came highly recommended from these veteran moms, which was
encouraging enough for me to consider trying another plan.
Kim Brenneman, the founder and administrator, has a house-full of her own. A
veteran farm wife and homeschooler, she knows about juggling competing
demands. Her system is very similar to Flylady's, with schedules and routines and
deep cleaning rotations. But she has replaced the extraneous, the perpetually
polished sinks and 27-fling boogies, with prayer and phonics. The only problem
was that she seemed to pack much, much more into a day than seemed humanly
possible. When asked by another visitor how she managed, it came up that she is
a pro at delegating. Maybe too much of a pro. Her older children do the majority of
the childcare and housework while she acts more as a home manager. I'm not
going to bash her technique, but it isn't for me.
A friend at a Yahoo group was quick to point out that I could easily modify either
program to get the results I wanted. But if I could do that, I told her, I wouldn't need
to borrow someone else's organizational method in the first place. I wanted to
keep my house neat without thinking about it. I wanted time in my life for, well, my
life. I knew I shouldn't criticize someone else's programs when I couldn't come up
with one of my own, but--
And that's when I realized that I should make my own program. A year later, here it
is!
Step One: Routines
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