Om and Sh*t

I am a minimalist—I opt for paperless car insurance bills (because that’s all they offer), only take the number of napkins needed for one anticipated drink spill per offspring and do yoga poses every other week.  (Some may argue that I am merely stretching my arms.  To those people, I say, I do not put a great deal of mental energy into office-voyeurs.)  On the Consumption Scale, I would like to think that I am hovering way below average.  Just by living in Austin and owning a Subaru, I should have a few points of consumption-cred knocked off my overall score, right?  Recently, I was sitting at our kitchen table drinking my morning coffee.  Since I am of the minimal-sort, I just let my mind be in the moment.  I am the essence of zen (or I may have had nodded off).  My children were yelling about booby cracks (cleavage), and I simply let the screech of their voices go into my ears, accepted their passionate stances, and embraced their inappropriate conversations..   My sitting-śavāsana was interrupted by the various clanking of crap being poured onto the table. 

As I was sitting on my motherly laurels, Jeremy was using the morning time to clean out Ruby’s backpack.  For a human who has only existed in this realm for less than 40 months and weighs a mere 26 pounds, she has surely acquired a heavy load of kid-shit.  Let me present Evidence A: 

Visions of my sweet future-Ruby hoarding all brands of whitening toothpaste flashed before my almond eyes.  I could not bear to see her über-white teeth existing in a small apartment with various collections of doll heads, magical crystals derived from unicorn sweat and jars of Jiffy.  With my final sip of java, my maternal instincts kicked in, and I started to organize.  Zen-no-longer, my left brain kicked in and I grouped the items.  The bloody aftermath of my consolidation skills resulted in several collections.  Now, in my dictionary, a collection is when two or more items with similar characteristics are together.  For example, the other day I locked eyes with the man I married.  Our brood was simultaneously and loudly saying, “We won’t, we won’t back down!”  (Disney channel movie quotes are the devil.)  As we existed in the same space, a collection of tired, middle-aged parents fearing the impending Lord of the Rings-esque revolt occured.  Ruby’s collection entailed the following: 

1.  Buttons:  So boring and round

2.  Wooden blocks with buttons:  So thrilling, round and with angles!

3.  Creepy, little dolls:  Remember Dollhouse Murders?

4.  Writing utensils:  Ruby appears to steal these from various places.  Quick, little hands on that one.

5.  Various coins:  Thank goodness it's real money.  I accidently gave a homeless man Chuck E. Cheese coins last weekend, and he gave me a nasty look.  Bennet looked confused, and Jeremy appeared apalled at my (accidental!) stinginess.

6.  Small rocks:  Ruby loves to collect little rocks and carry them as babies--faceless babies with no limbs who are easily misplaced.

7.  Slinkies:  How does one acquire multiple slinkies in the year 2014?

8..Clothespins:  We use these to keep chips from getting stale not for drying our clothes like good   people do.

And, of course, there were also single items mingling:

1.  Used spoon:  This is so nasty.  Her parents must be unsanitary.

2.  Band-aid remants:    Because I am a parent who cares about open wounds (but not throwing away trash).

3.  Used napkin:  This is disgusting.  Her parents must be unsanitary and need to consider going green by using cloth napkins.

4.  Watch:  Understanding time and the ability to read a watch is overrated.

5.  Bag for magical crystals:  This item is clutch for any parent and wizard.
6.  A note in her lunchbox:  This makes up for not using cloth napkins regularly.

Okay, so I admit I have some work to do.  I am all about purging and simplicity, and I appear to be a walking, yogi hypocrite.  I must do better and teach my children the importance of nothingness.  In the meantime, I will clear my mind of this shit with a good ole tree pose.  Let me present Evidence B with little Ruby Lee: 

Om and om.