I rarely wear makeup, but nothing sends my heart soaring like the perfect, ombré lines of beauty products at Sephora. I get a similar sensation of hope here as I get at the Container Store; an overwhelming sense of confidence, peace, promise. Like nothing – not money, not the 3 tiny monsters I share a home with – will keep me from achieving my life-long pursuit of organization. If I, too, had eyeshadows in all the colors of the rainbow, I would wake up 5 min earlier to beautify myself. And clearly my lack of inner peace is a result of outward clutter (and a lack of age-defying creams and serums). Which is why, despite my typical au-natural look, I have drawers filled with makeup – and all the baskets, dividers and containers I would need to Sephorize my vanity. Unfortunately this can-do feeling usually fades on the drive home from the store. And I am left with nothing but guilt and the need to purchase more containers to hold those that will never see those perfect rainbows of lipsticks and nail polish…

I had a friend whose favorite pastime was switching just 2 items in these color-coded Sephora displays. It was just 2 tiny products, but it dismantled the entire system…

When my 6-yr-old asked me if the internet was just cookies and cakes being frosted, I knew I had a problem. But acceptance is the 1st step to recovery, so here goes: I spend inappropriate amounts of time watching those FB videos of buttercream being smoothed and shaped into petals, steady hands making perfect lines of glaze on cookies, and cupcakes receiving their perfect poofs of frosting. And obviously I watch these videos on mute because a.) I don’t want my kids to know just how often this is what I’m doing instead of reading to them and b.) does anyone watch FB videos with sound?…

I recently finished the Home Edit Netflix series and was overcome with the certainty that my home, too, could look like Reese Witherspoon’s. I then spent a furious afternoon rearranging all our books in rainbow order as they suggest. Their reasoning was very persuasive – and once I had that scary pile of books in the middle of the living room, there was no turning back. It has now been a few months living with the rainbow. And it does look glorious. But I cannot find a single book.

Published by imworriedmytherapisthatesme

I'm a history-PhD-turned-stay-at-home-mom of three. When I'm not microwaving Trader Joe's meals for my kids, breaking up fights and wiping butts, I like to paint and write. To cope with the endless hours I'm spending with my son doing virtual school, I've abandoned my gouache paints for the more portable, less messy tried but true, paper and ink. While he learns to read to 20 floating heads on his screen, I sit on a tiny chair, at a tiny table pretending to be a productive adult.

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