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| Someone else who liked her toys a LOT… |
Do you ever have the kind of night where you’re dying to make a pan of brownies, eat more than your fair share, and just kinda need everyone to be okay with that? Only- you go to find the mix only to find no mix, and you wonder just what kinda jerk would banish all junk food from the house after New Year’s…only to remember that it was, in fact, you?
So you make yourself a mug of hot cocoa…only you make it a questionably large mug, and when faced with the choice of mini marshmallows or whipped cream (I guess we didn’t obliterate all of the junk, now did we?), you choose…both. Lots and lots of both.
And you feel no shame over this.
Except for maybe a twinge or two the next morning you begin to post a blog. For example.
I suppose it’s my week for inconsequential whining.
After the rush of an absolutely perfectly organized (and clean!) dining room, I decided to tackle the playroom, formerly known as the family room, also formerly a space where one could sit even if one were not a miniature person.
I can admit my mistakes when I make them.
And I made one.
Irrationally enough, I thought it would be a great idea to have all of the kids’ large toys and stuff in the room where they, you know, play. Because there was a ball pit in the kitchen (or, as Nora calls it- a pit ball. Which sounds too much like pit bull. Which I also do not want in the kitchen). And there was a multi-room tent in the living room. A trampoline in the unfinished downstairs room. And in the playroom? A kitchen, two bookshelves, a train table, an art table, stacks and stacks of “projects,” a stroller, a Lego wagon, a wagon wagon, a ride-on Lion King safari car, and babies. Not even including the real one.
And since Suzy got, well, more mobile, she’s brought an exersaucer and a swing into the room.
You know it’s bad when your new kid brings two pieces into the mix (as opposed to your toddler’s fifteen pieces) and you’re all like- THIS BABY IS CHANGING EVERYTHING.
We’re not spendy, nor are we actual hoarders. We just happen to know some incredible gifters, and we happen to have been on the receiving end of some insane hand-me-down action. And if you think I’m bad about loving my possessions too much…well, you should see Miss N.J. in action.
She loves everything.
She is playing with everything.
Yes, even that thing under that other thing.
But since I was hot off of my dining room victory, I thought I could tame the beast that is childhood play. And I was schooled.
It was like playing a game of Jenga with Escher.
Even after I had stacked and sorted and made piles (to donate- shh…) and hid some larger items in the closet and cleaned and dusted and mopped and lost Susannah under some toys and then found her but lost Doc Bullfrog…it was still too much. There wasn’t enough wall space.
I debated getting rid of Zuzu’s swing but, as she was still in it, I realized that perhaps she could keep that one item.
So I lofted. I channeled my first year room at Hampshire and perpendiculared that shiz. I cleared out more stuff and pulled the couch out into the center of the room and shifted furniture and put the wagon in P.J.’s office (sorry) and STILL there wasn’t enough room.
It beat me. The playroom won.
The judges might hafta strip me of the Feng Shui Master title [that I’ve given myself].
In other First World Problem News, The Food I’m Eating Is Too Delicious and My Fifties Are Too Crisp.
I’m still really smarting over the brownie thing, though.
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