The Monster in My Daughter’s Closet

I’m proud of my 13-year-old daughter for many reasons — her attention to her schoolwork, her athletic prowess, her kindness to animals and people.

Her closet, though — not so much.

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Sometime between being 11 and 13, Helena’s closet space turned into the “Reservoir of All Things.” It is overstuffed with clothes (dirty and clean, intermingled in an octopus embrace), overflowing with candy wrappers, and waiting to explode into her room each time the closet door is opened.

We’ve discussed this, of course, more than a few times.

“Honey, your closet is really bad again,” I’ll say.

“I know, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll work on it this weekend,” she replies. And usually she does.

Eventually.

Despite an impressive tidying effort, we always end up back at square one: Piles of clothes, a plethora of laundry, and, your basic pigsty resembling Oscar Madison’s room, on a very bad day.

I remember so well the pride I took in cleaning my room as a teen. I’d spend a full day sorting, separating, and folding my clothes, making sure everything was neatly arranged — including the assorted tchotchkes, and dusting every surface with care.

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Not my girl. She seems to revel in discord. Or maybe she’s simply too busy to devote a lot of attention to it.

There might be something to that, actually. Between the overload of schoolwork, the extracurricular activities (track, and band), and her own sporting passions (horses), there’s not a lot of time left over for cleanup. (Neither does she make the time, I have to admit.)

Still, I try to remind her — gently — that the whole closet mess could be avoided by spending a minute or two folding and sorting her clothes as she takes them off each night.

I know she doesn’t believe that’s true. But I’ll keep reminding her, keep trying to get her to see the closet light. I wouldn’t want her to become, after all, that girl from the “Friends” episode who looks like a supermodel but can’t see her floor through the overflow of stuff. 

On a recent Saturday, I helped my daughter organize her closet, again. I’m sure I expressed a little exasperation while doing so. And then, as she can sometimes do, Helena surprised me, delivering a saucy lecture.

“Aw, c’mon, Mom, you know you love this. You do! These are your glory days, helping to get me organized. You’re gonna miss me when I’m off to college, you know you are,” she admonished from behind a cheesy grin.

The soliloquy made me burst out laughing.

And in that moment I realized that yes, there is a monster in my daughter’s closet — one that often scares me, I’ll admit it. But the person my daughter’s growing into doesn’t frighten me one bit.