By Joan Passarelli

Blue Jeans & Jelly Beans

I have an office. It’s my kitchen counter. It’s only about 12 square feet, and I have to stand up to use it, but it’s enough. I have everything I need to coordinate not only the family and household, but also Scouting, sports, volunteering, school, and church stuff.

On that counter I keep my calendar, forms I need to fill out, things I need to remember to give people, the money I’m collecting from the soccer parents for the coaches’ gift, school newsletters, and my purse.

My calendar is the most important piece. I have an academic-year calendar, because that’s what our family runs on, with two kids in elementary school and one in junior high. Mine is nice and big, with a two-page spread for every week. I can write down everything I’m doing during the day, the kids’ lessons and meetings after school, and evening obligations, and still have room for my to-do list.

I will never switch to a Palm Pilot. I love my big calendar with its pencil scribblings.

It works for my family, too. My 12-year-old wanted me to get his saxophone fixed, so he wrote it onto my calendar for the next day. He knows how things work in this house. His saxophone went in as requested.

My office is tastefully decorated with two telephones (one cordless and one with caller ID (redundant, I know), the pencil canister my daughter made for me when she was six, the paper clip jar she made at seven, and a white board on the wall.

Every evening I copy the next day’s schedule onto the white board. We have different-color markers for each kid, so they can decode the plan at a glance.

This works well except when my third-grader decides to practice her cursive writing or her drawing on the white board. She makes artistic choices without regard for the color-coding system, which results in beautiful wall art but confuses everyone else. Oh well.

I keep handouts and directories in file folders which live in the drawer under the phone, along with pens, pencils, Post-It notes (I love those), and the 3-by-8-inch coupon books that come in the mail. I keep them because they’re just the right size and shape for shopping lists.

When someone is clearing dishes off the table and wants to put them on my section of the counter, I set them straight. “It may look like a counter, but it’s my work space!” I growl.

Sometimes my husband gets into a white tornado mood and thinks he’ll clean up that area. Normally cleaning of the kitchen is something I welcome with open arms, but this part of the counter is not up for grabs.

If anyone moves a piece of paper on it, someone’s going to suffer - a project won’t get turned in on time at school, or a kid won’t get hot lunch for two months.

People haven’t yet learned not to put things there, though. My counter has a bag sitting on it full of 15 ramen packets from when they were on sale weeks ago. Why is this here?

The girls’ buckets of Halloween candy are on my kitchen counter, too. Notice to girls: please move, or the candy will be sacrificed to the household gods (actually, the goddess who empties the trash and does the dishes).

Virginia Woolf said a woman needs a room of her own. I heartily agree, but until I get one, I’ll make do with the kitchen counter.

Passarelli is the mother of three and can usually be found standing at her kitchen counter. Her column runs the fourth week of the month.