How to Survive Spring Cleaning

ll that sunshine and fresh air energizes me and puts me in the mood for a good spring cleaning (and a deep exfoliation). It makes me want to feng shui my life, one closet at a time.
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I love spring. It's my favorite time of year. The flowers are blooming, the birds are chirping, the days are longer and the promise of a lazy summer (I can dream, can't I?) is just around the corner.

All that sunshine and fresh air energizes me and puts me in the mood for a good spring cleaning (and a deep exfoliation). It makes me want to feng shui my life, one closet at a time.

I start with something easy: my kids' closets. I set up camp in each kid's closet and with their help, or in spite of it (Mini-Me, my teenage daughter, can't let go of anything. I have know idea, ahem, who she gets that from), go through their clothes and shoes. We make a huge giveaway pile, for what no longer fits or is too worn out. She's delighted, because to her, it means time to replenish.

I can't begin to express the thrill of seeing a huge bag of clothes to be given away and a closet that isn't a tangled mess. The thought of dropping off this bundle at Goodwill leaves me weak at the knees. My house "feels" lighter already. One of the bonuses of cleaning out your closet is finding stuff you didn't even know you had. We call it "Buried treasure."

Clearly, the biggest hurdle is working my way through my own closet. For this I call in a professional: My teenage daughter. For as much as she can't part with her own things, she is merciless when it comes to my stuff. My goal is to give up nothing. Her goal is to get rid of everything.

She has a keen eye for style and insists I dress like a "soccer mom." For the most part, this is true. Staying on task becomes difficult, because clearly, a "mommy makeover" becomes the priority.

I have to be mentally and emotionally prepared to handle this kind of help. "What were you thinking?" she laughs, as she raises each piece of clothing in the air and away from her, as if my boring taste was contagious.

I should be flattered that my teenage daughter still thinks there's a chance I could still look hip. When I've had about all I can take from my enthusiastic "stylist," I call a cease fire and make a promise to myself to workout more. This time, maybe even sweat.

Question is, how do I distract her, to sneak back that "soccer mom" cardigan?

How do you survive spring cleaning?

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