Closetmaid, you're my hero

This summer it'll be two years since the night I packed up my Mr. Coffee, dumped my dresser into giant garbage bags and strapped Brae into his car seat, locking up my former house for the last time.

I'd just left my husband, Brae was about to celebrate his 3rd birthday and in less than the 24 hours it took me to pack, I had become a single mom.

We moved into my old bedroom at my parents house, the same bedroom that I had slept in since 6th grade. I have a full bedroom set, complete with a queen-sized bed, that we were able to somehow manipulate into the small space, and I set up Brae's toddler bed beside mine (under the silly impression that he would actually sleep in it).

Time passed. I went back to school. The toddler bed was disassembled. My brother moved to Spain. Pictures were hung on our walls. My father moved to California. Shelves were put up too. My brother returned from Spain. Braeden grew.

And two years later- we're still here. Still crammed into my childhood room and space is an issue. I feel guilty sometimes. I've appropriated our living room into a play room- Speedracer tracks, train tables, Hulk hands, Playdough carts and big ass play tents all live here. I've removed so much of Brae from our communal room, that sometimes I feel like maybe it's a bit unfair.

And then I remember that I'm bigger than him.

Hooray rationale!

Remarkably enough, one thing that I'm pretty liberal in sharing is my our closet. Half of the closet is home to Oshkosh and 4T Levi's. The other half holds my work apparel, or really anything that is attractive enough to be seen outside the house in.

Not like the Size XL cotton promotional shirt I am wearing as I type this. This baby comes from the dregs of the dresser. It works well when you're not in the mood for pants. Oh, yeh.

Even as Sally Sharenice, I struggle with the closet space. It's obvious we both need to use it. Only finding a way that we could use it without having to dive into it every morning, was proving to be quite difficult. I decided to do the massive closet cleanout- weeding out the older clothes and dumping them into garbage bags bound for the donation center. It helped A LOT. Suddenly there was space. Room to breathe. And holy shit you could see THE BACK OF THE CLOSET. Amazing!

But we had a shoe problem. Originally, I thought this could be solved with a simple over-the-door organizer. We bought this one from Target and I hung it up as soon as we got home. But then I noticed something.

You couldn't close the door.

Well actually you could close the door, it just required standing on your toes and pressing in the metal tabs that rested on top of the door while you pulled the door close. Not so bad, I thought. Annoying, yes. But I can live with annoying. Hell, I already have!

And then I opened the door.

Have you ever heard those birds whose shrieks sound just like someone being hacked to death with a rusty axe? And you're kinda terrified for a moment, wondering if you should call 911 before you realize that the shrieks are actually coming from the tree over your head?

Imagine that with the volume cranked up to an eleven. I've been living with this horror for several weeks now.

"Take it off!" Mom shouts.

"I can't just take it off. I can finally see my shoes and I can't turn back now. It's clean!"

"But the noise!"

Yes, the noise.

Over the weekend I went in search for another solution. You wouldn't think it would take me so long to get back to Target, but it did, and lucky for me, I was able to find something else I thought could work.

No metal death-screaming hooks over the door, I thought as I surveyed the packaging. That was good enough for me. So I bought it.


So far, so good. Though it seems that I need one more already. And even with a second one, there will still be shoes strewn about the closet floor.

I think I can be okay with this too. After all, I can't pack up all the shoes and move them into the living room/playroom.

I've already tried.