They Think I’m Organized!

We were talking last night, the boys and I, about a new volunteer position I am stepping into. We were talking about what it takes to manage this kind of project and who I might ask to co-chair with me – it’s too big of a  job for just one person. I don’t remember the exact sequence of the conversation, but the real point is, all the boys looked at me in disbelief when I said, “You think I’m organized?”

They had a look of total confusion on their faces.

I wasn’t sure what this meant. Are they horrified that I might think I’m organized? Have I had a stroke and begun speaking jibberish without realizing it?

And then Oldest Son said, “You are borderline anal retentive!”


I’m not smiling because I want to be called anal retentive. But I have a deep-seeded perception that I’m disorganized. I love spreadsheets and systems! I like things just so. I love organization! But I don’t always think of myself as organized. Like I told my boys, none of my brothers would describe me that way. They knew me way back when. When I was a bit of a slob – when it comes to my room anyway.

It got me thinking about how we can change as adults. It ties in to the DiSC profile I talked about last week. Looking at what you come by naturally and what is a learned tendency. With three boys and a full-time job I have had to be organized. I don’t have the luxury of being disorganized at this point in my life. I have to manage the schedules of all the family members. Making sure jerseys are ordered, science fair projects are done, audition music is recorded, and cap and gown are ordered. It takes organization to make all the things happen that I’m responsible for every day. And that is just at home. I have a job that requires me to manage a lot of different projects simultaneously.

So by necessity, I have become organized. And my brothers, who haven’t lived with me for as long as 30 years, probably still see me as that messy teenager. Thank goodness we all have the opportunity to change!

So yes, they think I’m organized. And they think I’m crazy for smiling when called anal retentive. It almost spurred a Facebook post boy Oldest Son. {Ya, that happens frequently when I have a blonde moment. And I’m ok with that. It’s well deserved.}

 The term anal-retentive (also anally retentive), commonly abbreviated to anal,[1] is used conversationally to describe a person who pays such attention to detail that the obsession becomes an annoyance to others, and can be carried out to the detriment of the anal-retentive person. The term derives from Freudian psychoanalysis. People who are said to be anal-retentive usually suffer from obsessive–compulsive personality disorder[citation needed].
Although, upon further consideration. I am clearly not anal retentive! Right?

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Filed under Family, Organization, Randomness

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