Today was the day. This morning I stepped foot into my daughters' bedroom and sighed. Toys here, clutter there, trash everywhere. The thought occurred to me...my daughters are quickly on their way to becoming hoarders.
My oldest is nearing that age and stage where she's starting to put thought into caring for her personal belongings. (You'll notice I used the word "starting".) She's fairly quick to eliminate things in her life that she doesn't really need or use. And slow to carelessly buy things. Which lends itself to a more tidy room. (Even she has her days, though...)
The other two, however, are an entirely different story. They are fully content to dwell amongst their mess. Happy as pigs in a pig pen. The more the clutter, the merrier. In fact, they pile it around them at night as some sort of blanket of comfort while they sleep. I find plush puppies, plastic horses and Littlest Pet Shops within the layers of their blankets. Oh, and lots of used tissues. Blach. And it amazes me that they can sleep like that. Yet they do it enthusiastically.
I remember being like minded as a child. Careless, sloppy and completely unhygienic. My older sister and I shared a bedroom for many years. I believe we found an old tuna fish sandwich in our toy chest once. I blamed it on her...but I suspect it was myself. My step-father grew so insanely frustrated with our lack of cleanliness once, that he decided to strategically place the week's trash smack in the middle of our bedroom. I can't quite recall whether this method of parenting worked or not, but I now have a tremendous fear of emptying the trash can. Or maybe that's a convenient excuse so that Hubs will do it. Either way, I clearly remember spending many years living in a mass of clutter and disorder. And it didn't bother me in the least.
So, today was the day I decided to remedy my own children's chaotic bedroom. And not with threats of dirty trash bags. I boldly announced in my stern mommy voice that the time had come to get in the spirit of giving....toys away, that is. I faced many a tear, but I firmly stood my ground. Hubs must have heard me from his office, for he came in with reinforcement lectures. Apparently he agreed with my need for a hoarding intervention. After some coaxing and guidance, they were well on their way.Toys were flying, and things started creeping out of all the nooks and crannies. I solved the mystery of where my hair clips went to, found missing library books, and discovered that one of my daughters has a toilet paper roll collection. (Just what does she do with them, anyway?) Mommy horses were reunited with their babies, game pieces were put back together, stray Littlest Pet Shops were returned back to their kennels, and Polly Pockets were brought back out where they could breathe again. And lots were given away. By their choice, might I add. I would have been happy to have at least one trash bag full, but they far exceeded my expectations. Three large trash bags, as it were. Once we got going, the girls couldn't have been happier about seeing their bedroom floor again, and having space to play. They were doubly impressed with themselves. Before they could second guess any of their decisions, we packed everything up and ran it all to the thrift store. Where I have no doubt at some point we'll end up buying some of it back again. (Yes....we've done that before.) And as a reward for their persistence in work and generosity in giving, I let them each pick out one thing to bring home.
And thus begins their new collection all over again.
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