The Rocking Chair Test

On Saturday afternoon, between two and three o’clock, Hurricane Beth descended on our family room. She left a wake of destruction in her path. I considered enlisting the assistance of the National Guard to clean up the mess. But I suspect the job would have overwhelmed them. So I spent the next three hours putting puzzles and books back on the shelves and pulling Lincoln Logs out from under the couch. What a mess.

Don’t let me give you the impression that my house is ready to be declared a total disaster. Ken, or as I call him, The Maid, does a great job scrubbing the floors and sanitizing the sinks. But every once in a while, as I scan the blocks, Legos and dolls strewn across the carpet, I wonder what it would be like to have a home that looked more like page 5 of the Pottery Barn catalogue and less like Pompeii after a volcanic eruption.

I envy people who are neurotically neat. You know who I mean. People who store their Tupperware in precise stacks according to size and shape instead of letting the containers crash on their heads every time they open the cabinet. People who catalogue the loose screws and nails on the workbench in the garage instead of stuffing them into a tin can. People who alphabetize their sock drawers. Megan....I am talking to you.

Unfortunately, I am not one of those people. But if I had my choice of obsessive compulsive disorders, I’d select fanatical neatness over the one where you're constantly checking to make sure you locked to doors to the house.

Sometimes, I sit down and start to inventory what it would take to raise our house from “lived in and homey” to “my home is my castle.” We can’t do everything. So if we are am going to spend more time organizing the spice drawer, then we need to skip Eric’s hockey game. If we are going to line up our linens according to thread count, bed time stories will be sacrificed.

After a bit of balancing and a lot of bickering, Ken and I have tacitly agreed to tolerate a bit more clutter in our lives. By doing this, we’re admitting that a picture perfect house does not meet our Rocking Chair Test.

I recently learned of the rocking chair test while reading random essays on a website called “This I Believe.” The gist of the test can be summed up by asking, “When I am an old lady sitting in my rocking chair, will I look back on my life and wish I had spent more - or less -time (fill in the name of the activity).”

For example, when I am an old lady, will I wish I had spent more time polishing the toaster? Probably not. On the other hand, when I am old will I wish I had spent more time holding my babies. Yes.

That means that polishing the toaster does not meet my rocking chair test but holding my babies does. I need to spend more time focusing on the things that meet my test and less time on the things that don't.

Applying the rocking chair test is a great way to align your values with your priorities. If you value education, you’ll regret it if you don’t finish your degree. If you value family, you need to spend more time playing catch with the kids instead of working at the office every Saturday. You're future self will be disappointed with you if you don't.

Just like no two snowflakes are the same, no two people have the same rocking chair test. And how a person applies his or her rocking chair test may change as the years go by. For some people, polishing the toaster may meet their rocking chair test, even if it does sound hopelessly neurotic to me.

Right now, my rocking chair test does not involve a pristine family room. But lucky for me, it does involve cuddling in bed and watching Saturday morning cartoons.