Some children see possibility where others see mess. This week Sheeba of This, Right Here, a gifted writer who once again brings us into a South Indian home, and paints another picture we can feel in our hearts. And allows me the honor of adding my perspective as a connection-first home organizer and parent educator to bring the story full circle.

If you missed last week’s story about Raghu the Collector, I hope you’ll have a chance to read it. For now, let’s continue with today’s story.

Shreya, the Creative Child.

by Sheeba

Shreya walked home from school the long way, which meant past the empty plot where the grass grew wild and nobody minded if you stopped and looked.

Something shiny caught her eye. She crouched by the fence and turned it over in her palm— a curved piece of blue glass, edges rounded smooth by time, not sharp at all. She held it up to the light. A patch of blue fell across her cream uniform, its edges breaking into tiny rainbows.

“Ayyo, look at this!”, Meera said, from just behind her, and for one second Shreya thought her friend meant the glass.

But Meera was looking at Shreya’s bag, not the glass. The zip was half open, and things were spilling out at the seams — a spool of red thread, three buttons of different sizes, a big dry mahogany seed pod, a bent bit of wire twisted into something like a spiral, a smooth grey stone with a white ring around it.

“You look like a kuppi-paattakkari—a rag-picker. Why do you carry all this junk?”, Meera said, laughing, and the two other girls with her joined in teasing her.

“It’s not junk”, Shreya said quietly, closing her bag.

“Garbage girl”, Ammu taunted, and it stuck, because Ammu was good with words that stuck. Meera and the others laughed harder now, singing in unison “Garbage girl, Garbage girl” and Shreya kept walking, faster, the blue glass still warm in her closed fist.

At home that evening, Valsala aunty from next door saw Shreya crouched near the drain outside the compound wall, picking something out from between the stones.

“What is it now, digging in the drain like a crow?”, Valsala aunty called out, not unkindly, but not kindly either. She was Meera’s grandmother.

“Revathi”, she said to Shreya’s mother later, over the wall, loud enough for Shreya to hear from the veranda, “your daughter is collecting all kinds of rubbish. People will talk. Also, she may catch some disease!”

Shreya sat very still on the veranda step, the new find — a small brass button, green with age — cooling in her palm.

Her mother came and sat next to her.

“Amma, is it rubbish?”, Shreya asked, not looking up.

Her mother took the brass button and turned it over. It had a rose engraved on it. “It’s a button,” she said. “What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know yet,” Shreya said. “I’ll know when I see it next to the others.”

Her mother nodded with a smile and got up to take the dried clothes on the clothesline.

“Then keep it,” she said. “You’ll know.”

That was all. No more questions.

In the evening Shreya’s father, coming in from the shop, added a small tin box to her table. “For the small ones, so they don’t get lost,” he said, and nothing more.

One day, the school announced an arts and science exhibition — students could bring anything related to arts, languages, science. Things they had made themselves.

There would be prizes in each subject for the most innovative exhibit.

The children started chattering among themselves. Exhibits could be made alone or by groups. Shreya sat silently, thinking.

Shreya started working on her exhibit every day after school. The exhibition was two weeks away. She would sit near the window, sorting through the tin box, the cloth bag, the drawer that had slowly filled over the year — glass, buttons, seed pods, wire, stones, a fallen peacock feather from Ammamma’s garden, soda bottle caps flattened smooth by wheels on the road.

She built a tree.

A standing one, twisted wire for trunk and branches. Slowly it took the shape of an old majestic, gnarled tree. Shreya added long pearls and painted pistachio shells for the leaves.

She hung several glass pieces and buttons she had found over the years. It looked like beautiful little fruits in multicolours. For the ground around the tree she added a border of flat soda bottle caps. Finally she added a thin strip of LED light that she had got from Biju uncle’s house that he had not wanted.

When the lights came on, the tree seemed to come alive. The fruits dazzled as a tiny breeze swayed them.

It had taken her four evenings. Her mother would bring her milk and biscuits and leave it on the table without a word. Her father fixed the wire frame once when it wouldn’t stand straight, and then stepped back and let her finish it herself.

On exhibition day, Shreya carried it to school wrapped in an old dupatta, holding it flat against her chest the whole bus ride, terrified of a single branch bending.

She set it on the table assigned to her, between Meera’s neat papier-mâché globe and someone else’s model volcano, and stood behind it, waiting.

Meera walked past first, and stopped.

“Shreya... is that—”, she leaned in close to the blue glass hanging from the branch, “—is that from the plot near the fence?”

Shreya nodded, not sure if this was the start of more laughing.

But Meera didn’t laugh. She was looking at the whole tree now, slowly. The twisted branches stretched out imperfectly. It looked as though it were growing, not made.

A teacher stopped next, then another, then a small crowd of parents drifting from table to table the way crowds do, until there was a proper cluster in front of Shreya’s tree, someone asking “what is this made of,” and Shreya, for the first time all day, finding her voice.

“Everything is something I found,” she said. “A button, a stone, glass pieces, pistachio shells. I just had to wait until I knew where each one belonged.”

Valsala aunty was there too, and she stood at the edge of the small crowd a long moment, looking at the tree, saying nothing this time.

Shreya’s mother stood near the back, not pushing forward, just watching her daughter answer questions with a steadiness that hadn’t been there a year ago. Her father took a photo on his old phone, the tree slightly blurred, Shreya smiling and it remained his favourite photo of her for years after.

Walking home that evening, Meera fell into step beside Shreya, quiet for a while.

“I still don’t understand how you knew,” Meera said finally. “How did you know the glass would look like that, hanging there?”

Shreya thought about it. “I didn’t,” she said. “I just kept it until it told me.”

Later that evening, Shreya caught a glimpse of Meera’s hand reaching through the open window. By the time she ran to the door, Meera was already halfway across the yard.

Shreya found a crumpled paper on her table. She slowly opened it. Inside were three beautiful glass marbles and a toffee, with a note.

“Next time we collect together. Ok?”

❤️

Ann’s Insights

How did you enjoy this story? Shreya is the child I wish every parent could see before they say the word “junk.”

What looks like a collection of garbage to one person is raw material to someone who sees differently. Shreya didn’t know what the blue glass would become when she picked it up. She just knew it mattered. And she was right.

What her parents did beautifully was hold space without needing to understand. Her mother answered a question with a question. Her father added a tin box without a lecture. Neither of them needed to see the vision to trust it. That kind of support is rare and worth naming.

When I work with creative children and their families, organizing the collection matters as much as honoring it. Creative children are often inspired by material before they know what it’s for — and that’s not a problem to solve, it’s a process to support.

But a collection is only useful when you can find what you need. Here are a few things that help:

• Create zones by material. Separate things like fabric, paper, metal, natural objects and store them in a way that preserves their condition.

• Use containers that make sense for the contents. A pull-off lid for small beads leads to spills. A screw-on lid doesn’t. Let the material tell you what it needs.

• Label in a way that works for your child. Not every container needs a text label. A sample of the material glued to the outside works just as well, sometimes better.

• Designate a spot for works in progress. A tray or caddie for an unfinished project means your child can pick up where they left off without starting over or losing pieces.

The goal isn’t a tidy craft room. It’s a space where a creative child can find what they need, when the idea arrives.

What did this story bring up for you? We’d love to hear in the comments. Next week we introduce you to Riya, the last character in our series — and perhaps the most relatable of all.

In this episode, I talk about four feelings that come up for parents when our kids push back, delay, or simply ignore taking care of their things. I focus on the parents feelings of powerlessness, dismissal, hurt, and insecurity.

I share where these feelings come from in my own upbringing, how they showed up in my parenting before I understood them, and why our children’s resistance affects us so much — even when the tasks themselves feel small.

I invite you to check in with yourself and see which one feels relatable in your household. And know that if you choose to comment, I read them all and will hold that space for you with care.

If you find that you are stuck in the cycle of power struggle with your children when it comes to keeping your home in a manageable state, I hope you’ll check out the Dooley Noted Content Library for more video lessons.

Sometimes, it’s easier to break the cycle with someone who’s been there to guide and support you along the way. If hearing that feels like relief, book a free 30-minute consultation so we can talk through what it’s like to continue moving towards cooperation through connection while getting your home in order.

This is the work I get to do with families.

Not fixing behavior. Just making space for what’s underneath it, together.

When we do that, cooperation starts to look different. It stops being something we ask for, and starts being something that grows.

That’s the heart of the Dooley Method.

❤️

Trusting your child to decide what stays and what goes isn’t risky.

Not trusting them is what keeps them from ever learning how.

If you've been organizing and reorganizing but the results don't last, or you've been carrying it alone, talking it through with someone who understands the cycle — and how to shift it — might be the next right step.

Book a free consultation

Here we are again, for week three of a five part series I'm doing with Sheeba of This, Right Here, who writes the kind of stories that stay with you after you've finished reading.

Each week she brings a fictional story inspired by South Indian family life, and I add my perspective as a connection-first home organizer and parent educator, to help shed some light on the challenges of letting go and holding on.

If you missed last week’s story about a mother sitting with a drawer full of memories she wasn’t ready to open. I hope you’ll have a chance to read it.

Enjoy today’s story, and Sheeba and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on it.

Raghu, the Collector

by Sheeba

Nine-year-old Raghu stood outside Sudhakaran uncle’s busy little shop in a narrow Mumbai lane, shifting from one foot to the other on the sun-warmed pavement.

A few people had gathered around to buy a cup of tea before hurrying to their jobs.

In front of the shop, a colourful line of magazines swayed overhead with rusty steel clothespins. The Week. Vanitha. Mangalam. Tinkle. Chandamama. Amar Chitra Katha. Phantom. Their colourful covers fluttered whenever a BEST bus rumbled past at the end of the road.

He wasn’t there to buy one of those.

He never was.

Raghu was there to buy a packet of bread and half a dozen eggs.

He read standing up, eyes racing across the pages before Sudhakaran noticed.

“Ay, kutta! This isn’t a library!”

Raghu grinned, closed the comic exactly where he’d reached, and stepped away.

He bought the things he had come for and ran home. He knew that tomorrow he would come back and begin from that page.

At home that evening, his father sat at the dining table with a steel tumbler of tea, going through account books from the textile shop.

“Achaa...”

“Hmm?”

“Can I buy one comic? Just one. Five rupees.”

Achan didn’t even look up.

“Five rupees for a storybook? Go study your maths. When you start earning, buy a hundred comics if you want.”

Raghu nodded.

That was the end of the conversation.

Or at least it looked like it.

That night, lying on the floor beside the open window, Raghu tried doing the arithmetic anyway. Outside, buses groaned, scooters honked and cars streamed past. The city never slept. But Raghu hardly noticed.

Two rupees saved this week...

Two next week...

One more...

Except Amma would need change for vegetables.

Or there would be school notebooks.

Or someone would ask why he was hiding coins.

The little pile in his mind always disappeared before it became a comic.

He never owned a brand new one. Once in a while he wandered into Dheeraj bhaiyya’s raddhi shop. Between old newspapers and school textbooks would be a torn Phantom, a faded Tinkle, an Amar Chitra Katha missing its back cover. To Raghu, they were treasures. Sometimes he hit the jackpot with a collector’s edition.

He would hide them safely at home. Sooner or later, Achan would discover them during a cupboard cleaning and send them off with the next bundle of old papers.

Raghu grew up reading them one visit at a time, outside Sudhakaran’s tea stall, until one day the comics stopped appearing overhead.

Just as quietly, the tea stall disappeared.

And eventually, the lane itself looked different.

Some memories leave so quietly you don’t notice they’ve gone until years later.

----

“Achaa, look, look, I got Iron Man’s whole team now!”, seven-year-old Vidhu came running into the hall, holding up a small red-and-gold figure still in its blister pack, joining a small army already lined up on his shelf — a shelf Raghu himself had put up just for this, three tiers, good lighting, exactly like a shop display.

Vidhu had a version of everyone. Some limited edition, some ordered specially from a shop two towns away, some that Raghu had waited weeks to find.

Vidhu liked them well enough — he played with them, arranged them, occasionally lost interest for a month before circling back — but it was Achan who knew the checklist by heart, Achan who got a small thrill each time a gap on the shelf closed.

That evening Raghu helped him peel the packaging carefully, sliding the figure out without bending the small plastic sword in its hand.

“There”, Raghu said, setting Iron Man in his spot on the shelf, third row, next to Thor. “Complete set now, all six.”

Vidhu looked at the shelf, pleased in the simple way children are pleased, and then looked up at his Achan, who was still looking at the shelf like it meant something more.

“Did you finish reading this comic?”, Raghu reached over Vidhu and picked up a Ultimate Spider-Man.

He smiled at a passing thought that Spiderman was also a family man now, like him.

Vidhu looked at Achan who was glossing over the comic.

“Achaa, you also like reading comics?”

Raghu laughed a little, caught out. He sat down on the floor next to his son.

He told his son about Sudhakaran uncle’s shop, the raddhiwalas, occasional tradings and borrowings of comics from friends.

“Brand new comics were expensive. Achachan said it’s a waste — go read your school books instead.”, Raghu turned over the comic in his hand and chuckled at the price.

“Never had a shelf like this.”

Beside the action figures stood another shelf, its comics stacked untidily, a Spider-Man sticking out from between a Tinkle and an Amar Chitra Katha.

Vidhu looked where his achan was looking. His own shelf — multiple sections with lighting and neatly arranged.

“You can have one”, Vidhu said finally, reaching for Thor.

Raghu smiled and shook his head, putting Thor gently back in his place. “No, no. This one is yours. I’m just happy to keep finding them for you.”

But that wasn’t quite the whole truth, and some part of Raghu knew it, sitting there on the floor of his son’s room, forty years old, looking at a shelf that had never once had a gap he couldn’t eventually fill.

Every figure he found for Vidhu, every comic he added to the shelf, quietly answered the wish of a nine-year-old boy who had once stood outside Sudhakaran uncle’s shop reading as fast as he could before someone told him to move along.

He smiled at the comics and story books spread on the bed and study table, along with the textbooks and notebooks.

And then at his son who was holding a spider man figure and reading the comic, hands supporting his chubby cheeks.

❤️

Ann’s Insight

Having married a collector whose father also collected, this story is close to my heart.

The things on Raghu’s shelf weren’t just things his father helped to collect. It was an unfulfilled childhood dream that his father couldn’t let go of, and was living vicariously through his son. A shared joy, to finally have the independence and means to display the things they both love.

When I work with children with a passion to collect, there are a few things I’m mindful of:

I always honor their collection even when the parents are frustrated with the accumulation. Curiosity and passion are worth taking seriously, even when the interest seems small or impractical. Understanding why it’s important to the kids builds trust. And if the child is taking care of their precious collection, and there’s enough room for it (or if they are willing to let go of other things to make room) sharing that passion becomes a way to bond with your children, letting them feel seen, heard, and respected.

But saying yes doesn’t have to mean unlimited. If a full shelf with no gap means toys start to fall down when you try to reach for one, then it’s telling you there are too many. Just like a museum or store display, each item deserves room to shine.

Help your child practice discernment and patience. Two old sayings come to mind:

“If everything is special, nothing is.”
Have the kids rank their most to least favorite character as a way to help them understand more is not better.

”Anything worth having is worth waiting for.”
A child can save birthday money, or contribute beyond their usual responsibilities to work toward something they really want. That process builds patience, value, and appreciation.

What did this story bring up for you? We’d love to hear in the comments. Next week, we look forward to introducing you to Shreya, the Creative Child.

These fights always began with me yelling or saying something passive aggressive.

Usually they end in silence — me walking away, tears streaming down my face. Not because I regretted how I handled it, but because I lost.

“You want to go live with your grandma so you never have to clean up?” That rejection, that threat of abandonment — it came out so easily because I had lived it.

My younger son was about 4 when I had just become a professional home organizer. After letting my frustration build and nagging him multiple times about cleaning up his mess, I’d had it.

I felt like an imposter, embarrassed that I couldn’t get my own child to do what I could do so easily. Organizing had always been something I did well, something I got praised for. And now I couldn’t get my son to clean up without yelling, or pointing my finger for “making me” react that way.

In those moments, I was often tempted to go British Super Nanny style, sending him to the naughty chair until he complied. Then I found out I didn’t need to. My son had put himself in time outs. He sat inside a dark closet, not wanting to be seen. It took me a long time to understand that his withdrawal was what shame looks like. But I was too caught up with my own shame to see what was going on.

Almost a decade later, having learned the science behind children’s behavior and our fight or flight responses, I realized the discomfort I couldn’t tolerate was my fear of being judged as a bad mom. I needed visible proof that I was raising responsible children. And when I didn’t get it, I had a tantrum and saw my son as the culprit. I didn’t consider that maybe he struggled with transitions, that maybe he felt powerless because he had no choice in when or how I wanted things done.

To make the point more clear, I came across an Instagram account with nearly a million followers — the American version of Super Nanny. She’s stern, almost militant. Each post opened with a clip of a child acting out, framed as out of control, chaotic, the villain in the situation. Through new lenses, I no longer saw those children as the enemy. Instead, I recognized that their big emotions had no room to exist, no one there to help them navigate those feelings, until they had no choice but to go quiet.

It wasn’t calm, or regulation. It was defeat.

But power over doesn’t create cooperation. It creates more distrust, more anxiety, more distance. The temporary compliance is a coping mechanism, not them taking responsibility. And that divide doesn’t just go away. It shapes how children see the world and how they respond to it. Even long after they’ve left your home, those patterns linger and show up when the children become parents themselves.

What changed for me was when I finally decided to not stay stuck in that cycle. And the answer I found was simpler than I expected.

Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted connection time, showing up every day. For seven years, we have never missed a day. My son takes the lead and I go on an adventure with him.

What grew from that wasn’t just a closer relationship. He learned to be more responsible as I became more willing to see the situation from his perspective. Even when he doesn’t follow through, we talk about it calmly. I don’t feel the need to raise my voice because our connection has created trust and safety between us. When he misses a deadline, we get curious about what distracted him or what might help him remember. I hold the space, and he comes up with a new plan and tries again.

That mess was never really the issue. It was about being able to see what’s going on beneath the heated emotions, then give each other permission to be human, to make mistakes and learn from them. Because when a child feels safe and connected, the reason to fight ceases to exist.

❤️

Joyfully, Ann

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04 Parenting Tools For Cooperation How To Avoid A Standoff

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Hi Everyone,

In the Dooley household this summer, the boys have been learning how to cook and picking up more tasks around the house. And if you’ve read my post about my older son turning 18, we’ve also been decluttering his things and setting up new systems before his first year in college.

I’m proud of how much he can handle on his own, but I offer to help anyway just so we can spend time together. Those casual moments often make the best space for connection.

Recent celebration worth noting

Part of what I love about my work is to celebrate alongside my clients’ milestones.

I’ve had the joy of working with a couple who are expecting their second baby and moving into a new home upstate. We started working together shortly after they got married, then again after their first child, and now at the start of another new chapter. What moves me the most is how they’ve held on to the skills they’ve learned and maintained their home in between. I feel like a proud mama myself!

Then there’s a mom that I’ve been working with virtually, along with her two boys. I suggested she add an additional shelf to maximize her vertical cabinet space, and she now keeps her cookbooks right near where she preps food. After seeing her photo, I spotted the perfect spot for adding small hooks inside the cabinet door for her measuring spoons!

And the best part from our last session is that her sons have been keeping up with resetting their bedroom on their own, and noticing how good it feels!

A challenge worth noting

If you have more than one child, you already know that every one of them can be so different. My younger son just turned 13, and while I want to honor who he is, it’s been more difficult to develop his internal motivation to keep his space organized.

I know it’s normal. At his age, autonomy matters more than almost everything else. What keeps working for me is asking questions and offering choices — you can learn about that here. But boy, does he test my patience some days.

With that said, I keep coming back to connection first, flexible expectations while still holding him accountable. If your kids are pushing back, it’s likely their body is in the middle of something developmentally big. It doesn’t make it any easier, but it makes sense. I feel for you, and we’ll get through it.

A commitment worth noting

I hope you’ve been enjoying my collaboration with gifted writer Sheeba of This, Right Here. We have three more stories to go, each exploring a different reason why people hold on or let go. I’m curious to find out which ones you’ll see yourself in.

And later this month on my podcast, I will be talking about the discomfort we all feel when our kids say no. If cooperation in your home feels challenging, I think this episode will bring you some hope and relief.

One final note

I’ve been coming across many posts lately about the need for moms to normalize asking for help. The shame attached to feeling inadequate but unable to break the cycle has kept families from getting the help needed to experiencing more calm, order and connection.

If that’s been your experience and you’ve been pushing through, I’d love to talk. My complimentary 30-minute consultation has been described as loosening the pressure valve. It’s a non-judgmental space to explore with you what’s possible.

I need this

P.S. Co-working sessions are just one of the many benefits of paid members.

For the price of an oat chai latte, you can join as many Dooley Noted co-working sessions available in a month — sessions are on most Mondays and Tuesdays at 1 PM EST, 90 minutes.

Aa a paid member, scroll down to book your co-working sessions.

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Read more

Last week, Sheeba shared the first story in our series, to illustrate the challenges of letting go. Many of you resonated with the story, and we appreciated the comments. If you haven’t had a chance to read it, I hope you’ll save it for later.

And in case you aren’t familiar with Sheeba of This, Right Here, we connected over motherhood and our shared curiosity in what it really means to let go. In this series, Sheeba tells a fictional story each week, inspired by South Indian family life. Afterwards, I bring my real life perspective as a connection-first home organizer and parent educator to offer some practical applications.

This week’s story is about Nikita, the Keeper. We hope you enjoy reading it.

Nikita, the Keeper

by Sheeba

“Achoo!”, six-year-old Aami sneezed as she pulled the drawer open.

The upstairs table had never really interested Aami or her brother until now. They were playing with some of Amma’s old toys when suddenly Aami thought of combing a doll’s hair.

She was looking for a comb.

“Look, look!”, her older brother Dev, eight, was already digging in beside her. “There’s so much stuff in here!”

Aami and Dev had come to their Amma’s home for the holidays. This had been Amma’s study room.

Ammamma always said she had spent half her childhood here—reading, drawing and making things.

The upstairs was now rarely used. Mostly the family just kept to the ground floor.

Dev pulled out a handful of greeting cards, fanning them like a hand fan. Aami found a small velvet pouch and shook it — coloured beads spilled out, clicking and bouncing across the floor before rolling under the bed, the table and the almirah.

Dev held up a dried brown rose. He pressed the crispy edges and it crumbled. There were several handwritten letters, yellow with age, soft at the creases from being folded and unfolded a hundred times, one of which tore slightly as Aami tried to open it curiously, a bit too hurriedly.

“This is boring, just papers”, Dev said, tossing a bunch of old bus tickets over his shoulder like confetti. “Let’s find something else.”

That’s when Nikita walked in.

She stopped in the doorway.

“DA!—”, it came out sharper than she meant it to.

Both children froze, Aami still holding half an empty velvet pouch, Dev with a bus ticket in each hand.

Nikita’s chest was tight. Her eyes went to the greeting cards, bus tickets, a satin cloth and various other things fanned across the table. She was not happy that the cards and papers were bent and crumpled.

The pressed flower was in pieces. The letter had a small tear now, right through a word she didn’t need to see to remember.

“Amma, we were just playing—”, Aami’s voice wobbled, unsure what she’d done wrong.

Dev looked at the ticket in his hand, then at his mother’s face, and quietly set it down.

Nikita opened her mouth to say something about being careful, about asking first, about this-is-not-a-toy — and then she caught herself.

She wanted her children to understand what these things meant to her—not simply be told to leave them alone.

She sat down on the floor, right where she was, cross-legged, the way she used to sit at eight.

“Come”, she said. “Sit with me.”

The children came, uncertain, and sat.

Nikita picked up the torn letter first. Her thumb moved gently over the tear, not fixing it, just feeling it.

“This is from your Ammamma”, she said. “She wrote it to me when I went for my first school trip. I was so scared to sleep away from home. She wrote this and gave it to the teacher to give to me at night.”

“What does it say?”, Dev asked, leaning in.

“That she was thinking of me. That the fear would pass by morning.” Nikita smiled. “It did.”

She picked up a photograph next — Dev, watching now without touching. “This was the Java plum tree in our old house. I used to climb it every morning before school.” She turned it so Aami could see. “See this small girl at the bottom? That is me. I was maybe your age.”

Aami touched the corner of the photo carefully, like it might sting.

Nikita picked up a few beads from the floor that had rolled away and placed them back with the others in the pouch.

“These beads are from a necklace your Achachan brought from Mumbai. There were two—one for me and one for Chechi. I wanted both. I cried so much...” She laughed. “Chechi gave me hers.”

“You make such sacrifices for Aami too, don’t you, Dev?”

Dev laughed.

Then she reached for the crumbled pressed flower, and her hand paused over it a moment too long.

“Amma?”, Aami asked.

“This one is from a rainy birthday”, Nikita said quietly. “A long time ago. It doesn’t matter what happened that day anymore. What matters is I picked this flower right after, and I decided I wanted to remember feeling okay again.”

Neither child understood that fully, and Nikita didn’t try to make them.

She sat there a moment longer, the broken flower in her palm. Dev and Aami looked at each other, seeing Amma stare blankly.

“Amma”, Dev said, breaking her thought, “why do you keep so much old stuff?”

Nikita looked at the mess on the table — the fanned greeting cards, the photographs, the scattered tickets, the torn letter, the broken flower — and for the first time all afternoon, she didn’t feel the urge to put it all back exactly as it was.

“Because none of it is old stuff, mone”, she said. “It’s where I keep the parts of me I don’t want to forget.”

“Okay, how about you choose one thing today. And I’ll tell you its story. Next time we come, you choose another.”

Dev picked up one pink KSRTC bus ticket carefully this time, like it had suddenly gotten heavier in his hand.

Nikita laughed. “This!”, she drew in a long breath, still smiling. “This was the ticket from a bus I travelled with your Achan before our marriage, after our marriage was fixed. We got on the bus only to discover half the bus knew Achachan, so we spent the whole journey sitting on opposite seats. Don’t tell Achachan and Ammamma.”, and Nikita let out a laugh again, feeling silly.

Nikita didn’t refill the drawers that evening. She left them open, a little more emptied out onto the table than before, a little more shared than kept.

Some things, she was learning, were meant to stay safe.

But some were finally meant to be told.

❤️

Ann’s Insights

How did you enjoy this story? When that pressed flower crumbled, I literally gasped.

When I’m working with clients, the sentimental items are left until the very end because in that phase of the process, we’re no longer organizing objects, we are sorting through memories.

What strikes me about this story is that the drawer full of letters, photographs, and pressed flowers wasn’t neglected. Nikita hadn’t forgotten those things were there. She just hadn’t been ready to face them.

I do appreciate how Nikita resisted the urge to scold the kids. Instead, acknowledging that the children played innocently, she chose to tell the meaning behind the things she’s been holding on to, which immediately captured their attention. That’s exactly what sentimental items are for, to connect us with the emotions that had significance and pass down stories of lived experiences that shaped us into who we are.

When it comes to sentimental items, a few things worth keeping in mind:

• How you store something sends a message. Items tucked away in an overstuffed drawer can signal to others that they aren’t precious. Displaying or storing them with intention communicates their value. (Imagine a simple ribbon and bow around saved letters placed in a nice box.)

• The story matters more than the object. If letting go feels hard, try sharing the memory first. Sometimes that’s all it needs.

• Items that get damaged or deteriorate through age can be respectfully let go. It helps to send a wish or thoughts of gratitude to the object, the person, or the memory then let it go responsibly.

What’s something you recall from your past you have trouble letting go of? We’d love to hear from you in the comments. Next week, we look forward to introducing you to Raghu, the Collector.

I don’t mean to be dramatic or morbid.

But more than once I lie awake in the middle of an ordinary night, feeling the weight of everything I want to pass down, and wondering if I’ll have enough time, enough words, enough chances.

So I started jotting it down.

Every life lesson I wanted my boys to hear in my own words — from how to be a helper, to take ownership of tasks when they have a partner, how to make decisions they can stand by, how to define and hold boundaries in life and in accumulating things, and how to raise their own children someday and be able to hold space for big emotions instead of avoiding them. It goes on.

Now, I know that children learn by watching, and they’ll pick up a lot just from seeing the way I live. I also recognize I’ve gotten into my head about my mortality and my insecurities as a mom, and I needed to reassure myself that if I put words onto a page, they’ll have a mom manual to guide them, no matter what happens.

So for about three years, I eased my anxious mind by creating a collection of tips and insights from my lived experience. A legacy project, so to speak.

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The writing process was nothing like I expected.

I’d sit down with a clear idea of what I wanted to say, and weeks later I’d scrap the whole chapter because reading what I’d written after taking care of a sick child or aging parents not only took up more of my capacity, they changed my outlook and took my writing in a direction that felt more necessary.

Sometimes after a client session with a family facing different challenges than my own, or after coming up with a spontaneous solution that met the moment — every new experience and realization became another point worth noting.

I wrote and rewrote.

I second-guessed myself constantly. Should I even be writing a book?

And then I’d remember that when I was experiencing power struggles with my own children around cleaning up, no parenting books talked about organizing more than a page about making it fun. And no organizing books talked about including children in a way kids could realistically maintain (which meant, once again, it fell on the parents to get it done with possibly resentment and frustration).

And yet every family that I’ve worked with has shown me the two were completely inseparable. You can’t get a child to participate in caring for the home if the relationship is running on fear. And you can’t build connection with your child if the clutter is constantly draining your patience where empathy feels out of reach.

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As I continued on this path, it grew bigger than something for my kids.

It became what I wished every new parent had on their shelf before the chaos and power struggles began.

I wrote it for the families that experienced daily frustrations when they can’t find what they needed when they’re already late for practice. The parent who has been carrying too much but stayed silent. The ones that have tried to keep up with the sticker charts and used the threats and the bribing with screen time.

I wrote it for the parents who love their kids deeply and still sometimes lose it over a pile of laundry on the floor.

And I wrote it for their kids too.

Because children deserve to feel trusted, capable, and seen, not little robots being managed. And just because they didn’t earn the money to buy something doesn’t mean they lose the right to have an opinion about it — or have to prove they’re responsible enough to earn back something that was taken away to teach them a lesson.

The Dooley Method guide is built on prioritizing the parents’ capacity, nervous system, and patience, so they can work alongside their children instead of doing it all for them.

It also prioritizes the children’s autonomy and their sense of belonging — trusting that the decisions they make along the way reveal who they are and what matters to them.

I tapped into my design background to intentionally lay out each page so exhausted parents can access the information quick and simple.

One lesson per page, step-by-step, with larger font and clear summaries, because when your fuse is getting shorter by the minute, you need the information fast. And the spiral binding makes it easier to write on the worksheets and flip to your sticky notes. (Put one on chapter 4, lesson 4, Stress Regulating Tools for Parents in case of an emergency, or print that page from the e-book and stick it inside your medicine cabinet door.)

Every painstaking decision in this book came from a worried mom who just wants to make sure her kids have her best advice — you can be certain it came from a gentle place of love.

I hope you’ll have a chance to benefit from my collection of personal and professional experiences in home organizing, parenting, and decades of self work and healing. If you do, I’d love to hear how things go.

Joyfully,
Ann

P.S. The sneak peek is free to download with lessons you can start today with your family. When you’re ready for the complete guide and workbook, upgrade to paid to start reading from the library.

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Prefer a physical copy?

For those who enjoy highlighting, referencing what you’re working on, writing directly in the workbook, or adding sticky notes — a printed copy is available here. You’ll be redirected to my publisher to complete your order.

I connected with Sheeba of This, Right Here almost instantly. A mother of three, she is a gifted storyteller with a sensitivity for bringing the feeling inside the smallest moments to life.

After bonding over motherhood and conversations about decluttering and letting go, we decided to collaborate. Sheeba would write vignettes on the topic inspired by a fictional South Indian family life. Each character’s relationship with their belongings reveal emotions they haven’t named yet, and tension they don’t know how to resolve.

After each story, I bring my perspective as a connection-first home organizer and parent educator to shine a light on what’s happening beneath the surface and practical solutions for families navigating the same.

And now, here’s Sheeba’s first story about little Karthika the Saver:

Karthika, the Saver

by Sheeba

“Wow, Achaa, doll!”, eight-year-old Karthika was already reaching for the box before Achan had even set down his bag.

Achan laughed and held it just out of reach. “First give Achan a ‘welcome back’ kiss!”

Karthika threw her arms around him quickly and kissed and then tried to jump and reach for the box again.

She sat cross-legged on the floor and studied it before opening it. It was a sturdy box. Thick cardboard. Clean corners. A proper lid that fits snugly. The front of the box was a cellophane panel that let the doll be seen. Karthi carefully began peeling back the cellotape, tongue sticking out in concentration.

She lifted the doll out slowly. Pretty. She set the doll carefully aside.

Then she looked back at the box.

She carried it to her room and placed it on the shelf. Not thrown — placed.

“Karthi, not another box.”, Amma appeared at the door, wiping her hands on a towel.

Karthika didn’t answer. She was already looking at the shelf — a shoe box, a chocolate tin, a saree box from Ammamma’s visit, three small gift boxes nested inside each other. Each one sitting exactly where she had put it.

“Kunji, your room is becoming a godown.”Achan’s voice came before he walked up behind Amma. He had just finished his dinner. He held out his hand, and Amma passed him the towel.

Karthika turned around. “They are useful, Acha.”

“For what?”

She looked at the shelf again. The answer felt obvious to her, even if she couldn’t quite put it into words.

“For keeping things safely.”

-------

A few days passed.

The doll’s box sat on the shelf, waiting. Karthika had already decided. Her glass bead collection would go in it. The lid fit perfectly, nothing would roll out or get lost. She just hadn’t moved the beads yet.

On Saturday morning Amma decided Karthika’s room needed attention.

“Karthi, come. We are clearing this room today.”

Karthika came and stood in the doorway. She looked at Amma, then at the room. She didn’t see what needed clearing. Everything was where it was supposed to be.

“These boxes are all going.”, Amma said firmly, already reaching for the shelf.

Karthika watched.

Amma picked up the saree box, the chocolate tin, the small gift boxes. She picked up the doll’s box.

“Not that one!”, Karthika said quickly.

“Kunji, it’s empty.”

“It’s not empty, Amma.”

Amma looked inside. “There’s nothing in it.”

Karthika opened her mouth. How could she explain that the beads were going in it? That she had already decided? That the box had a job, it just hadn’t started yet?

The words didn’t come.

“Amma please—”

But Amma had already moved on, the box tucked under her arm with the others, her mind on the next thing.

Something cracked open in Karthika’s chest. Not about the box. About the beads, now homeless. About the system in her head that nobody could see. About things being decided without her.

She sat down on the floor of her room and cried — the way children cry when something is unfair but they don’t have the words to prove it.

---

Amma came back to find Karthika still sitting on the floor, quietly crying.

She had expected drama. Not this.

She sat down next to her daughter. “Karthi, why are you crying? They were just empty boxes.”

Karthika shook her head. She couldn’t speak yet.

Amma waited.

After a moment, Karthika said in a small voice — “The doll’s box was not empty.”

“Kunji, I looked inside. There was nothing there.”

“I was going to put my beads in it.” Her voice wobbled. “The lid fits perfectly. Nothing would fall out.”

Amma was quiet for a moment.

She looked at her daughter, studying her face. At the careful shelf. At the nested boxes. At the glass bead collection sitting in an open bowl on the table, one wrong move away from scattering across the floor.

“You were keeping it for the beads.”

Karthika nodded, not trusting her voice.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know I had to.”

Amma sat with that for a moment. In Karthika’s world, a decision made was a decision made. It didn’t need to be spoken aloud to be real.

“Show me.”, Amma said finally.

Karthika looked up.

“Show me which box was for what.”

Karthika stood up slowly. She went to the shelf and pointed.

“This tin—for my hair clips, the small ones that keep getting lost. This box — for the shells I collected at the beach. These small ones —” she pointed to the nested gift boxes — “I haven’t decided yet. But they are good boxes. I will know when the time comes.”

Amma looked at the shelf again. The same shelf she had seen as clutter ten minutes ago.

It wasn’t a pile of rubbish.

It was a filing system.

Just not one she could see until now.

“Okay.”, Amma said quietly. “Let’s find the doll’s box.”

---

Karthika is fifteen now. Her room is still fuller than Amma would like.

But if you open her cupboard, you will find everything in its place. Her earrings sorted by size in a small tin. Her letters and notes from friends in a shoebox, carefully labeled. Her art supplies in a saree box, each item returned to its spot after use.

Nothing is broken. Nothing is lost.

And somewhere on her shelf, a doll’s box — lid fitting just as perfectly, corners very slightly tattered — holds a collection of glass beads that catch the light and scatter tiny colours across the room.

❤️

Ann’s Insights

I hope you’ve enjoyed Karthika the Saver by Sheeba. If you have a child like Karthika at home, here’s my real life professional home organizer and parent educator perspective:

What I notice is that Karthika is a visual planner and a practical problem-solver. And Amma had good intentions to clear the playroom, but like many parents, their tolerance for what’s considered clutter may not be the same as their children’s. In this case, there wasn’t enough communication to get them on the same page.

I also want to point out that not every child like Karthika is the same. Some are genuinely drawn to certain objects and take good care of them. Others may hold on out of fear, especially if things have disappeared in the past without warning when parents make an executive decision.

What made the difference here was that once Amma noticed her daughter’s reaction, she paused. She gave Karthika the space and time to be heard, and that’s where the connection happened. Karthika’s system was real — she just needed the opportunity to put it into words.

Two simple words opened the door: show me. When we ask to understand rather than to judge, parents and children can find a solution that works for both of them.

When it comes to storage, boundaries don’t have to mean control. A few things worth keeping in mind:

• Let the space be the limit. Rather than deciding how many boxes a child can keep, use the shelf itself as the guide.

• Safety is a real consideration. A shelf that’s too heavy or too packed is harder to access and could be dangerous. Children can understand this when it’s brought up with care.

• When a child knows their things are safe, they’re more likely to trust the process. And that trust makes every future conversation easier.

If you enjoyed this story and perspective, be sure to subscribe. In the coming weeks, Sheeba and I will be sharing more examples of parents and children who have trouble letting go when decluttering and how to address those concerns. We look forward to hearing which ones you find relatable.

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I’ve met mostly moms with younger kids on this platform. And with every post sharing the sleepless nights and separation anxiety, I ask myself, how did all of that become distant memories?

18 years later, I found myself at the intersection of holding on and letting go.

My Inbox

I woke up to a few auto-send emails from the administrative corners of a kid’s life that I had managed for years. Each one said some version of the same thing.

I no longer had access.

It stings a little, reading that in writing. My eyes got a little misty.

I thought of the boy who used to sit cross-legged on the curb with a cup of snack in hand, waiting for the garbage truck to round the corner. The one who filled his pockets with sticks on our walks, certain each one was worth keeping. The one who spent entire afternoons hunched over his Lego city while I sat beside him, digging through a pile of tiny pieces, hunting for the one he needed.

One email after another, I made a note of which accounts he’d need to set up access to on his own.

The Gift

A few weeks earlier, I’d asked him what he wanted for his birthday.

When he was little, birthdays meant a party with a theme, a table full of friends, and a pile of toys that seemed to grow every year, as if the size of the pile said something about how much I loved him.

As my work as a home organizer and parenting educator started shaping how decisions were made in our household, we intentionally shrank the parties down to just our family of four. The gifts became a favorite meal, a night of Mario Kart, something simple and low key that matches his personality and energy.

If we do get him a physical gift, it’s usually based on need. Something practical. Headphones. A desk chair. A weighted blanket. A computer for the college he’s about to start.

But turning 18, I wanted something different. Not a party. Not a trip. Not one more thing to unwrap.

I landed on something simple.

His Inbox

I scheduled the first email to send at midnight on his birthday.

Subject: Happy Birthday!

It held a list of 18 things I love about him:

Funny, kind, brave, creative, honest, loyal, confident, gentle, responsible, sensitive, grateful, resilient, genuine, open-minded, loving, patient, independent, and a great listener.

After each one, I added a detail from something I’ve noticed over the last 18 years. And with every quality I named, who he is came a little more into focus.

Then, starting at 12:01am through 12:18am, one email landed every minute. A single photo for each year of his life, holding a moment that meant something to us.

The Intention

I chose not to write a card, a letter, or make a photo book.

Over the years I’ve done that for special occasions, and naming those qualities is something I’ve been doing instead of saying “good job” in hopes they’d become his own inner voice.

But I chose emails to do something different.

Rather than having something that becomes a keepsake stored away in a box somewhere, I wanted something he could access from his personal email, the one with his name on it, that he’ll likely keep for the rest of his life. Something he could open on a hard day, from anywhere.

Because we’ve reached the point that the next time he falls, I might not be close enough to catch him. But maybe an email sitting on his phone can give him a small lift when he needs to pick himself back up.

I ended that first email with how lucky I feel to be his mom. And I told him that while part of me is tearing up (he knows I cry whenever I get overwhelmed), I’m happy that him getting older just means I get to keep adding to the list.

On the day of his birthday, we cuddled on the couch to look through each of the 18 photos, and talked about where they were taken and what he was into at that age. We noticed a significant change in his appearance between 14 and 15. As I was talking, I felt disappointed and said “I should have typed a description for each one!” But he replied, “Actually no, I like hearing about them!”

I’m learning that letting go and holding on can happen in the very same breath.

❤️

Every morning my husband and I walk our dog. Every morning I open our entry closet where our jackets are hung and shoes are kept.

It wasn’t bad. But small inconveniences, every day, add up.

Here’s what wasn’t working:

• The winter boots were taking up prime real estate.

• In-season sandals were in the back and hard to reach.

• My summer flats were still in boxes, stacked unevenly. (I had gotten rid of my flats due to some foot issues, but that’s all been resolved and I’m excited to be able to wear cute flats again!)

• I have 4 clear front-opening stackable shoe storage boxes on a top shelf of this closet but they’re too high for me to reach.

The first thing I did:

I gathered the winter boots and moved them to the top shelf where the clear shoe boxes have been — An easy step that actually made more sense for seasonal swap for the same amount of available space.

Storing flats and sandals:

The clear front-opening shoe boxes were too tall to stack with the existing shelves. However, it created just enough of a gap for my sandals and flip flops! (I love those happy accidents.)

Other than the high heels, each clear shoe box holds two pairs of flats. I grouped my Mary Janes together and fun flats together.

A shoe tray in the back created a defined spot for the Crocs, which gave that whole section a clearer boundary.

Shoe inserts and extra laces got gathered into one box — contained, out of the way, easy to find.

No new products. Just what we already had, rearranged to match how we actually live right now.

Space-saving solution:

Sandals laid flat take up more space than we had available. So I repurposed my cardboard shoe boxes by cutting off the top panel to keep the sandals on their sides.

The solutions here are about visual boundaries. When each type of shoe has a defined spot, you just reach for what you need and go.

Looking at the final results again, here are a few things worth highlighting:

• I grouped the boots and dark color sneakers together.

• Non-shoe items stored here, like umbrellas and shoe inserts, are together

• I used a shoe tray that we use for winter boots to hold the big Croc sandals. The tray creates the boundaries and they are easy to slip on and off without having to bend down.

• Not a single new product. Everything here was already in the closet.

When seasons change, life gets busier, or when needs shift, it’s completely normal for a system to not work as well as it once did. That doesn’t mean the system is wrong or you failed to maintain it. It means it’s time for a small reset.

In just fifteen minutes, we feel daily relief every time we open this closet.

Organizing shoes with your kids, not for them

Kids don’t have as many pairs as we do, which actually makes shoes a great starting point.

Rather than putting their shoes away for them, try asking questions that get them thinking like an organizer:

Why do you think I moved the boots to the top shelf? Which shoes do you reach for most often — where should those live? What would make it easier to find what you need in the morning?

It’s not just about the shoes. It’s about understanding that where you put something is a decision made on purpose. That every item has a reason for its spot. And when things have a home that makes sense, putting them back becomes almost automatic.

Would you like to learn more ways to organize your shoes and accessories?

Below is the Organizing Accessories lesson for paid subscribers. For about the cost of a caramel oat latte with whipped cream, you can start using the lesson to put your jewelry, scarves, purses, and other finishing touches in order.

The step-by-step tools are yours to keep, plus access to more lessons that come with your membership. (From how to organize your closet, to the craft supplies, giving you time-tested decluttering and organizing tools for results that last.)

If you have any questions, feel free to reach out. I’m here to support your family’s journey to more calm and connection.

Joyfully,

Ann

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Do you fall into this category? Like many parents I’ve worked with, the challenge of organizing together isn’t just the mess itself, it’s the resistance that comes with it.

Without addressing the root of that resistance, cooperation doesn’t just stall, the situation can easily escalate into a power struggle.

And perhaps that’s where you’ve been, choosing to do the work yourself to avoid further friction.

That’s why I wanted to share Debbie’s story, Sissy the Cat and the Wiggle-Wiggle Tidy. Through characters and a storyline that children can find relatable, Debbie brings this challenge to life.

We follow Sissy, whose resistance to clean up is a common one: it means having fun playing is over. But Mama knows, and turns the process into another game they can “play” together, with a little music and a lot of laughs.

This approach speaks to the heart of the Dooley Method: when taking care of the home feels daunting, bringing lightness and presence into that moment, connection through play, can turn things around.

After the story, I’ve also included a set of free kids’ activity pages to keep that spirit going, helping children make the connection between their belongings and where they return to after use. The more that association is built with warmth rather than pressure, the more children want to be part of it.

I hope this collaboration with Debbie has given you more confidence inviting your children to care for your home as a team.

Joyfully,
Ann

Sissy the Cat and the Wiggle-Wiggle Tidy

By Debbie Giannioti

Sissy the Cat was playing in her room.
She jumped from the bed to the floor.
She spun with her stuffed tiger.
She rolled a ball across the room and chased it.

Toys were everywhere.
Sissy laughed and leapt again.

Mama Cat stepped into the room.
“It’s almost time to get ready for bed,” Mama Cat said.
“Let’s do a quick tidy.”

Sissy flopped onto the bed and buried her face in the blanket.
“I don’t want to,” she said.

Mama Cat smiled.
“I have an idea,” Mama said.
“Let’s do the wiggle-wiggle tidy.”

Mama Cat clapped her paws.
She put on Sissy’s favorite song.
Clap. Clap.

Mama Cat swayed side to side.
She hummed a silly tune.
She wiggled her tail.

Sissy peeked up.
She giggled.
Then she jumped off the bed.

Mama Cat tossed one toy into a basket.
Swoop!
Sissy hopped and threw a toy in too.
Plop!

Mama Cat danced across the room with another toy.
Sissy followed her.

Mama danced to the shelf.
Sissy danced to the bed.

They moved fast.
They moved slow.
They stopped.
Then they wiggled again.

Mama Cat laughed.
“One more!”

Sissy grabbed a toy and ran.
Mama Cat cheered.
“Last dance!” Mama Cat said.

Then Mama Cat clapped once.
They slowed their feet.
The music softened.

Mama took a long breath in…
and let it out slowly.
Sissy felt her own breath slow too.

They looked around the room.
The floor was clearer.
The bed was free.

Not everything was perfect.
And that was okay.

Mama Cat and Sissy picked up a few more toys together, nice and easy.
The room felt calm again.

Then Sissy climbed onto the bed.
Her breathing was still a little fast…
but her body felt loose and warm.

Mama Cat sat beside her and pulled a book close.
Sissy leaned into her.
Mama Cat read in a soft, steady voice.

Sissy snuggled under the blanket.
The toys were resting in their places.
Everything felt ready for sleep.

Feathernest Woods was settling for the night.
The room was quiet and still.
And Sissy rested too.

The End.

About Debbie Giannioti

Debbie is a connection-first parenting writer and storyteller who helps parents navigate everyday challenges through stories children can recognize themselves in.

In Sissy the Cat and the Wiggle-Wiggle Tidy, parents and children see how difficult moments can become opportunities for connection — and how play, cooperation, and emotional safety can make everyday routines feel easier. Explore more of Debbie’s stories and parenting resources at Connection Bridge Parenting.

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In this episode I sit down with Angela Tam, a licensed mental health counselor and the Mental Load Coach, for an honest conversation about the invisible labor so many parents carry — and what it actually takes to start shifting it.

In this FREE episode:

• What the mental load really is and why cognitive labor is the hardest to outsource

• Why so many of us wait until we’re desperate before asking for help

• How our upbringing shapes the roles we fall into as partners and parents

• What “maternal gatekeeping” is and how it shows up without us realizing

• Small steps toward connection — even when resentment has set in

Want to go deeper? Chapter 1 of the Dooley Method: Clutter’s Impact on Parents, offers some tips when partners aren’t doing their share, and how to ask for help when you’re struggling. The link below has a free introduction video. Paid subscribers can download the full chapter PDF.

The Dooley Method content library offers you self-paced simple lessons with videos, mini lessons, and downloads, designed with the busy parents in mind. Start to feel relief from clutter and power struggles over clutter when you upgrade.

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Hi Everyone,

When my boys were little, summers turned me into a camp counselor. After they begrudgingly put on sunscreen, we’d explore the many parks and museums New York had to offer. As they got older, summer became the time we worked on honing their skills to take on household tasks — without the pressure of a school schedule.

I’ve even worked with a few clients and their children over the summer, which felt like its own kind of summer camp. Actually, that’s an idea I keep coming back to.

Now that my kids have become more skilled and more independent, I’m learning to redirect that energy toward more self-care. Though I’ll admit, home organizing is still the one activity that genuinely lights me up.

If you’re feeling the pull of summer clutter, or wondering how to involve your kids in the process, I’m here if you’d like to schedule a complimentary consultation.

Recent celebration worth noting

“This was so informative and I’m excited about working with kids in the future.”

That came from an attendee at a recent workshop I gave to a group of certified KonMari home organizing consultants. The room was full and the questions were thoughtful. I left feeling genuinely moved — knowing that more families might feel what it’s like when cooperation comes from connection.

A challenge worth noting

I recently worked with a client who had a very full summer ahead. We decided to tackle several key projects over two consecutive days — 10.5 hours total. I went in energized. Dedicated, focused time means we can accomplish so much more.

What I didn’t anticipate: the physical toll. Climbing up and down a step ladder, moving heavy items — it’s a real workout. I also know myself well enough to recognize that I push harder when I want to leave a client’s home in a good place.

We accomplished everything we set out to do. And I was reminded, again, that taking care of my body is part of the work too.

A commitment worth noting

Over the past few months, I’ve been enjoying some genuinely meaningful connections on Substack — many of them growing out of simply being fans of each other’s work.

I’m currently working on something special with my friend Sheeba of This, Right Here — a series exploring why kids have such a hard time letting go of things. I’d love for you to check out her work and subscribe to both of us so you don’t miss it when it drops.

One final note

The Bedroom Reset — my 4-part mini video course designed to help parents reclaim their energy and introduce home organizing to their kids — is available now. If you haven't seen the intro yet, it's a good place to start.

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Co-working sessions are just one of the many benefits of paid members.

For the price of an oat chai latte, you can join as many Dooley Noted co-working sessions available in a month — sessions are on most Mondays and Tuesdays at 1 PM EST, 90 minutes.

Upgrade to get access to the booking page below

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Join me and others to cross things off the list and stay focused. Organize a closet, meal prep, answer emails — anything that helps you feel a little lighter.

Sign Up for a Co-Working Session

I became curious why it resonated so much that I decided to not only do a deep dive into this reframe, but also collaborate with Papatya to design a few printables you can download.

Organizing your home isn’t about being tidy.

I recall there was a time when organizing meant something very specific: minimal aesthetics, matching containers, rainbow-colored bookshelves, labels for things that seemed self-explanatory.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a well-organized space and appreciate the design sensibilities. But real life, especially with children, looks different. Sometimes there’s a half-finished art project still on the kitchen counter, or laundry that sits for a few extra days before there’s time to fold it.

But home organizing has evolved into so much more than visual appeal. I’m grateful for what finding homes for your belongings and mindfully making decisions can create. To reference my teacher Marie Kondo, it really is a kind of life-changing magic.

It’s about knowing what you have.

When you can actually see what’s in your cabinet, you stop replacing things you already own. No more buying a third bottle of sunscreen because the first two were buried somewhere you forgot, and you realized after finding them that the unopened bottles are expired.

That’s why, when you know what’s in your home, you also stop the slow drain of money, energy, and space. And you have more mental space to remember things — like you haven’t eaten anything and should probably drink some water.

It’s about being able to find it.

Every once in a long while, a client will email me, asking if I know where something is stored. I always do — not because I have a photographic memory, but because there’s only one logical place it would be. Extra coffee filters would be inside the upper cabinet shelf, above the coffee mugs, which is above the coffee machine.

That’s a pretty straightforward example, and you can see how it makes sense. And it’s the way I teach families to think about storage: making their home feel more intuitive, so they can feel the flow.

It’s about not spending energy on what doesn’t matter.

Before I learned how to organize a storage space with purpose, I used to reorganize the same spaces over and over because I wasn’t making meaningful decisions about what I owned. I kept things out of “what if I need it,” or out of guilt — like a sweater my mom gave me that I’d never worn, kept out of fear she’d get upset. Or the box of random tools I didn’t know how to use, just moved further back in the garage so I didn’t have to deal with them.

When you’re able to make clear, confident decisions to let go, what remains is what actually matters to you. You’re more likely to take better care of those items, putting them back after use. And your storage spaces only hold things that are useful or enjoyable to your family.

When your home works for you, everything feels lighter.

A lighter home doesn’t ask you to keep organizing it. Everything has a place, and nothing is hiding behind a closed closet door. Storage spaces make sense to everyone who needs something from them. And maintaining order takes little effort.

The lightness becomes even more evident once you’ve worked on including the whole family in the decision-making and skills-building. Over time, resetting the home at the end of the day starts to feel like a well-choreographed dance, everyone moving through the space together.

Organizing is how you take back your time and your peace.

Organizing is more than solving a storage issue. It’s a way to enhance the life you want to enjoy with your family.

Keeping books easily within reach by a cozy chair, so you can read to your children.

Having baking ingredients accessible, so making cookies together becomes a family tradition.

Having a bedroom that isn’t just visually calming, but what you keep in by your bedside actually helps you feel more rested.

An organizing system that works means it will continue to bring you order and calm until it has to change because your family’s needs have changed — welcoming a baby, getting a new pet, changing careers.

The rest of the time, its job is to be in the background, so you and your family can focus on connection and doing what you love.

And if I can help you get there sooner, I’m ready when you are.

Joyfully,
Ann

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You don’t have to have a perfectly organized home to teach your kids how to care for theirs. Instead, show them what you’re working on, let them see you figure it out, invite them to be part of the process.

You know more than you think you do. It’s enough to start with what you have.

Nobody wants to be bossed around.

I notice it in myself. The more someone tells me to do something, the slower I move. Or I do it, but my body is rebelling the whole time — closing the cabinet a little harder than necessary, stomping around, using just enough extra force to make it known that I’m not happy about it.

Not because I’m lazy. Because I didn’t have a choice.

Kids feel this too. And let’s be honest — nobody is excited about putting dishes away or picking up after themselves. It’s just stuff that has to get done.

So we try our best to keep our voices calm. “Don’t forget to fold your laundry, okay?”

That "okay?" is our need for confirmation. Followed by a quiet plea inside my head. Please hear me. Please, so I don't have to say this again.

But to a child, it sounds like an opening.

Even when they say yes, nothing happens. The task isn’t done because the internal motivation and accountability never existed in the first place.

And when you’re trying to cross off just one more thing from your list and move a step closer to bedtime, that delay creates a fracture in your relationship.

The problem is the question itself.

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How do I ask in a way that doesn’t lead to a power struggle?

The shift in their willingness to participate starts with five familiar words:

what, who, where, when, and how. (Spoiler: this works on partners too.)

What puts them in the driver’s seat. “What do you want to listen to while we fold laundry — an audiobook or music?” They’re still folding. But now they get to choose something to make the time more enjoyable.

Who lets them decide how much support they want. “Do you want to do this together or do you think you’ve got it?” Some kids want the company. Others feel confident going solo. Either way, they’re the one deciding how much or how little you’re involved.

Where gives them a place to begin. Children can freeze when they’re told to “go clean your room” and don’t know where to start. “Do you want to start by clearing the floor or the table?” narrows it down and makes it easier to take that first step.

When removes the standoff over timing. “Will you put away your shoes before snack time or after?” They’re not being interrupted. They’re choosing their moment. And often that window can become part of their routine.

How is where it gets fun — especially for younger kids. “Do you want to pick up the toys like an elephant or a kangaroo?” The toys still get picked up. But play makes the time go faster.

What all five of these questions have in common is flexibility. Not permissiveness — the task still needs to get done. But flexibility in how, when, where, and with how much support. That's the difference between a child who feels controlled and one who feels trusted.

And I don’t just stop after one question. In one conversation, I follow up each response with a different question. With each answer, they are mapping out a clearer path to getting the task done.

The more input they have, the more empowered they feel — and the more they feel your trust in them to take charge.

Your role shifts too. From the person demanding something gets done, to the person in their corner.

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These days, my children are choosing “I can do it myself” more often. And while I have fewer questions to ask about getting things done, I have started a new set of questions:

“Do you want anything to eat after you’re done? I can get it ready for you.”

“Need anything before I get started on my own stuff?”

“Let me know if you want an extra set of hands.”

These questions are no longer about getting the task done. They’re about letting them know you trust them, and that you’re still there.

And no matter the question, what you’re really doing is showing your child that their thoughts and preferences matter. That you trust them to make a good choice for themselves.

And children who feel trusted don’t need to fight for control. They already have it.

Does this mean you’ll never hit a wall?

No. There will be days when they’re tired, overwhelmed, or working through something bigger. Their need for autonomy can sometimes override everything else, and that’s okay. That’s being human. But when you practice sharing control and giving them a little more wiggle room, those moments are less likely to escalate.

Because the foundation of connection and trust is already there — and that’s what makes repair and cooperation possible.

Want to try this with your kids this week? Download the Flexibility for Cooperation page — a one-page cheat sheet from the Dooley Method library to keep close while you practice.

Flexibility For Cooperation Dooley Method

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And if you want to go deeper, upgrading to paid gives you access to the full library, plus a complimentary consultation call to help you get started from wherever you are.

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Home organizing is taking the time to do it right — so the system lasts.

Parenting is offering patience while kids learn — so the lesson actually sticks.

The Dooley Method is built on steady progress, not quick fixes.

She loved them so much.

They took up most of the bed she slept in every night. Maybe she was on to something — being surrounded by things that made her happy isn’t a bad idea at bedtime.

But then we started talking about what each one meant to her. She was surprised that not all of them were as close to her heart as she thought.

This was an in-person session with my 9-year-old client who had a large collection of stuffed animals taking over her bedroom. She loves to read, but realized she didn't have a comfortable space to do it. She didn't know where to put her things, and looking for something specific always ended up taking a lot of time and causing frustration.

Her dresser top had become a place to drop things. She couldn't even enjoy the beautiful flowers. Looking for stuff was causing her a lot of grief.

We started by grouping similar items into piles. One by one, she shared stories about her “friends” and why some of them don’t mean as much to her anymore. Those she decided to keep were sorted into even more specific groups: by size, material, or theme. We did the same with everything else: stickers, erasers, makeup, gemstones, books, jewelry, sentimental items.

She did the work.

And I watched her gain confidence in her decision-making right before my eyes.

When it came to displaying what she decided to keep, we talked through which shelf made the most sense. By placing her larger, pillow-like stuffed toys on the floor, we created a cozy corner for reading. Books moved to the bottom shelves. More fragile items went to the top.

We cleared the dresser top and kept only what she wanted to see. She said she'll make sure not to let things collect, and she feels good knowing everything has a place to return to.

The higher shelves are the ones she likes to look at. The lower shelves hold things she likes to play with. The second-to-lowest shelf has games for when friends come over, with a small space for a cup of water at night.

“I like being able to see everything so much more clearly now!”

This kind of project wouldn’t be possible without my client’s participation. Only she knew what each toy meant to her. By involving her in every decision, she became the expert on her own collection.

And this is how I work with every family. Holding space for each family member to build those mental maps in decision-making.

I’m most proud when a choice is made with confidence and clarity, through exploring different ways of looking at an object and asking the hard questions without letting the stress of it escalate.

In nearly a decade, I’ve gathered those experiences into the Dooley Method to walk families across the bridge between connection-first parenting and home organizing.

As we work, parents learn how to organize their own belongings, how to let go, and how to pass those skills on to their children without getting stuck in a power struggle.

For $8 a month, you get access to the full Dooley Method library, live co-working sessions, and a complimentary consultation call. I’ll be right there with you to offer guidance, answer questions, and be in your corner along the way.

When you're ready, I'm here.

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Home organizing is being honest about what you actually use, need, and love.

Parenting is being transparent about what you truly mean, expect, and when you’ve made a mistake.

The Dooley Method helps your family create space for both.

Hi there,

I hope your weekend is going well. It’s a little unusual for me to reach out on a Sunday, but I’ve been sharing parenting and home organizing tips on Substack Notes and I didn’t want you to miss them.

You’ll find quick tips, quotes, photos, and short videos — the kind of things that don’t always make it into a full post but are worth a moment of your time.

Here’s one I shared recently:

I would love for you to join me there!

Go to Notes

Here’s how to join

Head to substack.com/notes or find the “Notes” tab in the Substack app. As a subscriber to Dooley Noted, you’ll automatically see my notes. Feel free to like, reply, or share them around!

If you encounter any issues, you can always refer to the Notes FAQ for assistance. Looking forward to seeing you there!

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Home organizing is seeing your space not as it is, but as it could be.

Parenting is seeing your child not just as they are today, but who they are becoming.

The Dooley Method helps you build toward both visions — together.

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In this episode, Debbie, creator of Connection Bridge Parenting and I sat down for an honest conversation about how stories can guide children through everyday challenges — and why that matters for the whole family.

This is also the first in a series of posts that we are collaborating on. In the coming weeks, we’ll be sharing videos, printables, and frameworks focused on helping parents involve their kids in caring for the home. Subscribe to our publications so you don’t miss it.

In this episode, Debbie and I talked about:

• How we both found storytelling as children

• Connection-based parenting vs. how we were raised

• Using stories to guide children through challenges

• How we each use homemade storybooks to help children work through problems

Download these pages on how to use storytelling to address big feelings and problem-solving. Try it tonight.

Connection Through Stories Activity

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About Debbie Giannioti

Debbie is the creator of Connection Bridge Parenting, a Substack publication for parents who want a more connected, respectful relationship with their child. Every month she explores one parenting challenge through articles, resources, and stories written specifically to help children — and parents — find their way through it.

Subscribe to Connection Bridge Parenting

You’ve finally tackled the entry closet. The jackets have hooks. Shoes are on shelves. There’s a basket for the odds and ends from your pocket to land.

It feels good. For a few days, maybe a week.

And then your partner drops their bag on the floor by the closet door. Your kids kick off their shoes wherever they land. And slowly, the chaos starts to drift back. Sound familiar?

Most organization systems work. But:

When it came up, it turned into a power struggle instead of a conversation. “Why can’t you just put it back where it goes” lands as criticism, not information or action. So to avoid more conflict, the question stops getting asked, and the parent becomes the only one who knows.

The family wasn’t part of the thought process. You decided where the shoes go, where the mail lands, where the backpacks hang. It made sense to you, because you’re the one who thought it through. Everyone else just sees the result, not the reasoning, so there’s nothing to actually remember.

Nobody showed them how to find or return things on their own. Knowing where something goes isn’t something kids absorb by watching once. It has to be practiced, out loud, more than once, before it sticks.

So one parent ends up owning the system — and being the only one who knows where anything is in it.

That’s what led me to create the Dooley Method. A way to bring the whole family into the process, so when something needs attention, everyone can step in. It’s how children build a sense of confidence and pride in taking care of their home because they were included, and they feel competent knowing how.

Here are a few options for the kind of action that you can try today to start giving your children opportunities to learn putting things away to where they go. (Not a chore chart, not a system you hand them):

1. Ask one question instead of giving one instruction. Instead of “put your shoes away,” try “where do you think your shoes should go?” — not with a tone like they’ve already made a mistake, not passive-aggressively. Just genuine curiosity. If they know the right designated spot, just say “You remembered!” If they don't or get it wrong, say "I'll give you a hint" so they get another try.

2. Let one system stay theirs. Let them pick one space (their backpack hook, their basket) and stop maintaining it yourself for a week, even if it gets messy. Resist the urge to fix it for them. Follow up with curiosity. If it goes well, ask them how they feel about their efforts. If it remained a mess, ask them what do they think wasn’t working and come up with a new solution to try again.

3. Name it out loud, once. “I noticed I’m being ask a lot where the scissors are. How about we figure out together where it feels more intuitive for everyone. Got any suggestions?” Problem solve it together brings awareness without the blame.

How did these land for you? Which one would you try first? Comment below.

If this is the kind of shift you want more of, that's what the Dooley Method library is for. Paid subscribers get full access whenever they're ready for it.

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“It’s had even more of an impact than I expected.”

That’s what one client told me after her bedroom reset.

In the days that followed, she found herself going for walks and clocking over 10,000 steps. That week she not only kept her bedroom organized, it motivated her to keep the rest of her apartment clean too.

That’s what a bedroom reset does. It doesn’t just change one room — it changes how you feel about what’s possible for your whole home.

When your bedroom is in order, you get back the capacity to handle everything else with a little less overwhelm.

More patience for your children while learning is still happening.

More motivation knowing everyone can share the responsibilities

More confidence from hands-on practice that makes a noticeable difference — with yourself, your partner, and your children.

Watch this introduction (3 minutes) to find out how this reset give you More room to breathe, rest, and connect.

Experience your own reset.

It’s time to reclaim your energy and introduce home organizing to your kids as something you can do together!

Parents often tell me after the reset that their kids end up asking: "Can we do my room next?"

That kind of shift — from “go clean your room” to a kid who wants in — is what can happen when you start here.

Below is the mini course designed for busy parents to learn quickly and put into practice. The videos and downloadable checklist are available to paid subscribers, and anyone who is ready to start regaining your energy and focus back.

Video 1: Start Small. Start Connected. (12:58 minutes)

Video 2: Declutter for Calm (7:26 minutes)

Video 3: Making Sense and Letting Go (4:22 minutes)

Video 4: Organize to Last (7:18 minutes)

For the price of an oat chai latte, aubscribers get full access to this series plus all of the lessons in the Dooley Method content library.

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