It’s day three of “no
toys”. I am still sane, in my right
mind, and most importantly, alive. There
have been no attempts at mutiny and no death threats. So far, so good. This “Little Red Hen” may have stumbled upon
some wisdom. She is not going to do it all by herself, anymore.
Each morning, I have been greeted by a different toy
grouping that has been dumped out onto the floor. My days began with a mess made mostly of
small unnecessary plastic objects, and ended with a mess of small unnecessary
plastic objects. It drove me to drink
some strong coffee and to do some deep breathing exercises. The toys were taking over.
So, two weeks ago, I sent a warning shot across the bow
of my children’s Toys R Us Carnival Cruise Ship. The toys were going to go for a long walk,
somewhere far away. Their life aboard
“The Good Ship Lollipop” was going to change.
It was either the toys or me. I
decided that no three foot by three foot blob of toy Legos, army men, and
plastic blocks was going to get one over on me.
I knew that the toys themselves were innocent. The toys had just become a casualty of war;
my war against “Lazy Butt Entitlement Syndrome”.
My final solution: organize the toys one last time in
their bins, clear room for them in the attic, and store every last one of the
toys in the attic. My only compromise:
when I saw change of heart, one bin might, might
come out each week and then be exchanged for another bin, but no more than one
bin per week. After my declaration had
been broadcast to the family, my husband stood up and applauded, the children
were frozen in silence. Then, the fight
began.
I was prepared. I
made myself mentally and emotionally ready for anything. I anticipated a great resistance and I got
one. It began early in the morning on
the day of “The Big Sort”.
Fits of shaking, tears, fists shaken at the heavens, and
many great speeches on the benefits of toys came my way. I was a wall, unmoved, undeterred. Then the bargaining began.
“Mom, can I just keep this one car out, this one hat,
this one plastic army man…” I stood my
ground, “No”. The psychological warfare
was not working. Then they began their
final assault. The weeping and deep guttural
groans erupted from them like a choir of dying hyenas as the sorted toy bins went
up the attic stairs.
When the final toy was put away, the children became very
still and peaceful. I think it surprised
them that they were ok, even after the toys were all put away. They accepted the reality of what had just
taken place and fought no more.
Now the fighting, yelling, and hours of picking up toys
became almost nonexistent. It was a
moment of grace. I think the Little Red Hen finally got wise and decided to
stop making and baking the bread for her ungrateful friends. She has too many other things to do in a
day. She was tired of watching her
housemates play all day while she worked for them. Sometimes Mommas have to make hard calls to protect their little ones.
My youngest son, Elias, was observing a mother cat and
her kittens outside of a friend’s house today and said,” That Mommy kitty is
protecting the baby kittens because the baby kittens like to play in the trash.
And that trash is yucky.” Yes, my son, just like that mommy cat, I too
want to protect my little “kittens” because they too like to play with the “trash”.
A seasoned mother once said, “Little children exude
little plastic toys and bits of trash.”
It is so true. A small child cannot
care for the large inventory of toys most of us have collected over the
years. Children can become overwhelmed
by so many things to see and do, let alone pick up and put back just the way
they find it. It can be a full time job
just keeping all of the toys put away and organized. Frankly, I have too many jobs and it was time
for me to retire from “toy manager”.
John Rosemond, well known parenting columnist, likes to
say that children cannot handle any more toys to care for than their numerical
age, and the child’s toy inventory should never exceed ten. That is a hard line you may say. Well, it is all in what one may want.
I was becoming the shoe salesman at Sears. “What size do you wear, how does it fit,
don’t like that?, I think I may have that in brown, let me go check.” I was going to the stock room exchanging box
after box of unnecessary plastic objects and I was beginning to get the look of
the shoe salesman at the end of the day.
It was not pretty.
When what my children and I thought they needed in order
to get through the day to be happy was taken away, it exposed some
interesting things. What would we do
with our time now? How can I keep myself
occupied now? Will I be ok without the
toys? So far, we are all fine. And you know what, not once, not for even one
minute, have the children asked me to get their toys out for them. They play outside longer, they imagine all
kinds of things, they tell stories and act them out, they build things in the
woods, they draw, and put puzzles together.
My children play the way their grandparents played, with less.
I have been on a journey to simplify our lives for a
while now and my courage is building. I
am gaining the strength to follow through on what some may think is a life of
Spartan minimalness. But I am seeing us
come alive to a life freed up from “stuff” and I am seeing what was once dull
begin to sparkle.
Today, we picked up some trash, did some laundry, and put
some dishes away before we went to the park.
There were no visions of block puddles upon the floor or mounds of
plastic animals in the back of my mind.
I was not distracted. I was
focusing on my children who were being children. I was able to see my children
gain courage too.
My daughter was able to take part in a ropes course along
with some friends, including zip line and rock wall. I watched her being pulled way up into the
air in her harness and then swing back and forth in the air with a smile on her
face. “I had to be pretty brave today,
Mom. It was hard, but I did it. You should do it too, Mom. If I can do it, you can too.”
Yes, Bella, if you can do
it, then so can I. I can be your Mom and
protect you and your brothers from all of that ”trash” you like to play in
sometimes. I love you and you inspire me
to go higher too. Less stuff and more
people, more time with the people that I love.
More time to watch them soar higher and higher with smiles on their
faces.
~Your Fellow Sojourner
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| Bella and her friends at the ropes course. Article by John Rosemond on Toys |
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