Small Victories Against My Better Judgement 1/4/2026

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

I’ll admit it: productivity is not always my strong suit. That sounds worse than it is, so perhaps I should explain. When I have a job to do, I get it done. If there are things that truly need accomplishing, they will, in fact, be accomplished. The trouble is that I am inclined—just ever so slightly, in the tiniest little bit—toward procrastination and, if we’re being honest, laziness.

I was fortunate enough to have two full weeks off work for the holiday season. I was also, somewhat unfortunately, in possession of a to-do list filled with rather significant tasks that needed to be completed during that time. If I were a more industrious person, I would have been delighted by the opportunity to tackle projects that had long been waiting. I am somewhat sad to report that I am not one of those people. If I’m being painfully honest, I was dreading what lay ahead.

Chief among these dreaded tasks was cleaning out my daughter’s bedroom. At first glance, that may not sound particularly dramatic. But when one understands that my daughter possesses more toys than any child could reasonably know what to do with—and that these toys existed largely in the form of random, migrating piles—the gravity of the situation becomes clearer. Maneuvering through her room had become a challenge in itself, and addressing the problem meant far more than simple tidying.

There were toys to sort, toys to discard, and toys to rehome elsewhere. There were two closets and a dresser full of clothing she had long since outgrown, all of which needed to be weeded out and sent along to thrift stores. Christmas had added new items to the mix, meaning space had to be made not only by subtraction but by careful rearrangement of what remained. It was not simply a matter of cleaning; it was a reckoning.

Anyone who has children—or has ever dealt with them in any sustained capacity—knows that this sort of undertaking can feel monumental. And if we’re being honest, it isn’t only children who struggle to part with old belongings. To ensure efficiency, I made certain my daughter was well distracted and appropriately disinclined to participate. This allowed me to work alone and make decisions I’m quite certain she would have vetoed had she been participating.

At one point, I found myself sitting on the floor, having tripped more than once, surrounded by enormous trash bags filled with toys destined for donation, clothes far too small to be worn again, and assorted bits and bobs fit only for the dumpster. It was in that moment that I began to question whether I had taken on more than I could reasonably manage. Still, progress was being made.

The process took the better part of two days, and I lost count of how many bags were filled. The weight of them eventually required my husband to fetch a rolling dolly just to get everything out of the room. When it was finally finished, her bedroom once again resembled a child’s room—with visible floors—rather than a toy shop that had suffered a small car bomb. I felt, quite frankly, proud of myself.

That sense of accomplishment, however, came at a cost. Several days of my precious holiday time had been consumed by effort. I can’t say for certain what I would have preferred to do with those days, but I am confident it would have been gloriously unproductive. Likely enjoyable, yes—but not particularly useful. Lounging about, watching mindless television or drifting through internet videos, pausing only to forage for holiday leftovers, certainly has its appeal. It simply doesn’t accomplish very much.

And yet, despite my reluctance, a great deal was accomplished. Working largely with my husband—and with my daughter to a much smaller extent, as she is very much her mother’s child—we made meaningful progress throughout our home. In addition to her bedroom, we completely cleaned out and reorganized our study, which was no small feat. Imagine my daughter’s room, but replace toy piles with stacks of papers, books, and files, and you’ll have a fair idea of the challenge.

Outside, we turned our attention to the property itself. Dead trees were cut down, their remains gathered and burned. The last few days of our break were, in truth, the busiest of all.

Now, our time away from work and school has come to a close. I can’t pretend to be enthusiastic about returning to early mornings and the daily grind. But I can say this: during those days, things were done. I’ll count it as a small victory over the weaker parts of my nature that a few rooms in my house no longer resemble disaster zones, and that parts of our yard look noticeably tidier.

And let’s face it—I know myself well enough to say this with confidence: another opportunity for rest and idleness will come along soon enough.