Micro-decluttering & Time Management for Parents.

But more reflective than practical.

Theoretically, I’m really into decluttering. I say theoretically, because I really want to clear out the surplus charging chords in my office drawer and discard of the red plastic spatula that I only reach for when the metal one is dirty. But lately, that’s all more aspirational than something I actually do.

Although I haven’t gotten to the cord drawer, I do watch a lot of decluttering videos on Youtube while breastfeeding, and I’m all nods when the influencer moms in sand colored linen say that the first step to reducing stress is reducing your inventory. The less you have, the less there is to manage. Less clothes = less laundry. One pair of children’s tennis shoes per child = smoother transition from house to carseat. Simple two step skincare routine = less likely to skip it and go to sleep with sweat and sunscreen on the face. I’m on the wagon, babyyyy. I want LESS STUFF. But not necessarily to optimize transitions, I don’t think. More for the feeling it invites.

But then there’s reality. I love a clear countertop and also if the choice is to nap or clean, I need to nap so that I don’t disintegrate by 3pm.

One thing I have learned from watching the minimalist moms and applying minimalism in small bites to my own life is that less material stuff makes more space for nonmaterial stuff, like experiences and rest and relationships and hobbies and meaningful work. This has been very true for me, and an extension of this has been decluttering my commitments, which to me means getting clear on what’s worth my time. Not that long ago I was in a Phd program, serving voluntarily on several organizational Boards, running a business, adjusting to being a new mom of two under two, working as a teaching and research assistant. This list is truly bonkers and I see now that I was sort of hoarding work like old clothes that represent a long gone version of me. Over the last few years, I’ve focused on simplification and I am grateful to have pared back in order to more intentionally rebuild.

Anyway, that brings me to this thing I’m really into, which is more practical than philosophical: Micro-decluttering. Micro-decluttering is when you take five minutes to clean out one kitchen drawer. It’s when you recycle the useless documents from one file folder instead of the whole filing cabinet. It’s when you clean out just your make up bag, not the whole bathroom cabinet.

My favorite trick is to keep a cardboard box at the bottom of my closet. I toss the things I no longer need into the box as I come across them throughout my days. A sock with no match, a broken toy, pajamas the baby already grew out of. Rather than carving out hours at a time to tackle the hugely daunting process of minimizing your whole house in one fell swoop, I do it one item at a time, collecting as I move through the regular cadence of my days.

This approach to decluttering is representative of one of the biggest shifts in my life since having kids. Before my time was rigidly compartmentalized. I thought of my days in buckets. Exercise. Work. Socialize. And whatever else I was doing before motherhood. Lol, it’s kind of a distant memory. Each thing had its own perfectly carved out window of time. If someone called me during my work hours, it was an affront. Socializing doesn’t belong in the work bucket. This served me at the time, but wasn’t achievable with kids in the picture. Now, time functions differently. Of course, it is in much shorter supply, an hour or two during naps mostly. Last week I split a 20-minute workout into 5-minute intervals because every time I started, someone woke up from a nap. And that’s okay. I can handle an interruption now because my conception of time is much more diffuse, fluid, in-flow. Like a stream, not a conveyer belt. My days are filled with stops and starts, but it doesn’t feel like a skipping record, more like a dense orchestra, disparate sounds fit together like a jigsaw.

Love,

Stephanie