O-mama - Opinionated Moms

• by Gretchen Rubin • 10 Comments
• Tagged in: For Moms

click to order now

So today I’m putting on make-up…fumbling in the drawer for mascara.  I pick up the “old” mascara that is basically empty—say ‘oops’, toss it back in the drawer and grab the new one.  I’ve had the “new” one for a year probably.  For the record, there is a trash can maybe 6 inches from my right foot.  It occurs to me that it might be time to clean out my make-up drawer.  I do it.  It takes me all of about 7 minutes, but the extraordinary high I get from throwing some congealing lipsticks away is beyond the pale.  This rush spurs me on to more.  I quickly—without ruminating etc.—clean the rest of my bathroom drawers.  I toss about 4 hair products that failed me in my quest to have slick, silky hair like Reese Witherspoon’s.  I do keep most of the wrinkle creams, but toss the ones that give me zits.  I toss free floating Q-tips and old hotel mouthwash.  I don’t actually use mouthwash because I think it’s gross, so why they ever were even TAKEN from the hotel is beyond me.  Free stuff, I guess.  I toss totally expired sunscreen and all eyeliners besides black.  I get rid of empty prescription bottles and old kids’ clips.  (teeny tiny toddler clips actually, to be honest, for the wispiest of baby hair…)  I throw away the almost empty toothpaste because I’ve already bought a new one, and what am I saving it for anyway?

 That’s the big question?  What are we saving any of this stuff for?  NO GOOD REASON.  Because I’ll tell you something: IT FEELS REALLY GOOD TO THROW IT AWAY.  I have now filled an entire hefty bag.  I move on to the closet—determined and strong.  There will be no saying “just in case.”  “Oh, I’ll save this 15 YEAR OLD J.CREW SUNDRESS because maybe, someday miraculously, my boobs will just move back up to the appropriate place on my chest without surgery or a giant bra.”   Into the donation bag it goes!  This darling sweater that is essentially a crop top for my ten year old?  Yeah, not gonna happen in this lifetime…ciao, baby!  Wire hangers everywhere!  Where is my Mommy Dearest?  By the end of this massive purging I have filled 5 big bags for the Goodwill.   And I feel sooooo good.  I feel like somebody has taken a giant vacuum to my brain and uncluttered it—stuck that little nozzle into the cobwebbed corners and really hoovered away. 

 Sadly, I have to stop for the day to go pick up the kids at school but I promise myself that I will do another room tomorrow.  I feel 10 pounds lighter.  I feel taller….and smarter.  And cleaner. 

 I spend the rest of the week going room to room and emptying drawers, closets, cupboards.  I’m no hoarder; I’ve seen that action and it’s not pretty.  But I will cop to being a little bit of a pack rat.  For instance, every time I wear out a pair of running shoes, I get a new pair; but for some reason, I don’t donate or toss the old pair.  So in the coat closet I found 6 pairs of old, crappy running shoes.  Did I think I was going to start a jogging club and everyone in it would have the same shoe size as me?  Sadly, both my daughters have inherited this semi-sentimental, saving capability.  I found old Happy Meal toys in their desk drawers, and we had two entire shelves filled with those baby “board books.”  The girls are 10 and 8; I think they can manage not to chew on the books now, don’t you?

 Our featured author this month, Gretchen Rubin, begins her year long Happiness Project the same way—by purging, and it is her necessary first step toward her ultimate goal of “happiness.”

 Rubin is not clinically depressed by any means.  She has just come to that crossroads in life where she feels that she isn’t necessarily as happy as she could be.  So she embarks on a systematic and concrete approach to “getting happier.”  First, she thoroughly researches concepts of happiness, then familiarizes herself with the existing self-help books and guides to happiness and then approaches the concept in the way most accessible and familiar to her.  She makes lists!  She breaks it down into steps—small steps, baby steps even, that she can then tackle each day, each week and each month of this “happiness project.” 

 She cleans!  She organizes.  She exercises!  She works on her marriage, her work, her parenting.  And it works—to some extent.  She knows before even beginning the project, that perfection is not her ultimate goal, and she includes plenty of first person narrative to illustrate all her trials and errors and successes.

 Does this book offer the key to happiness?  Is it “the secret” to success?  No.  And to be honest, there isn’t a lot that’s new here—but it is compulsively readable.  Rubin is extremely detail oriented and writes with a humorous and light touch.

 Put it this way—when you are reading your 500^th magazine article or book about “Secrets to Getting Slim,” you pretty much know that the secrets are something along the lines of eat less and exercise more, right?

 Well, Rubin’s book is like that.  We all know that actively seeking joy will likely make us ultimately happier than drinking White Russians at noon on the sofa under an afghan and watching Turner Classic Movies.  “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane,” is always a real pick-me-up!  But seriously, Rubin’s initial nagging feeling that she “should be happier” really hit home—and I think moms / women (and men) of a certain age all go through that at certain times of our life: (usually-monthly??) We say to ourselves: I have this great husband, house, kid—fill in the blank, why aren’t I happier?  

 Well,  Gretchen Rubin at least tries to find out why and then tries to fix it, without drugs—prescription or otherwise, without surgery, without catting around town with someone half her age, and without joining any funky, far-out cults.  My favorite of her lists are the Secrets of Adulthood—two of which are :  People don’t notice mistakes as much as you think and it’s okay to ask for help.  That sort-of encapsulates the underlying nurturing tone of the book:  just go ahead, give it a try—HAVE MORE FUN.  And if that doesn’t work, at least go to bed earlier.