NOW YOU SEE IT, NOW YOU DON'T

The kids don’t realize what is coming. . .because if they did, there would be lots of whining and pleading involved. Since we are going to be moving out of our house in a little over a month, I am going to do my best to get organized and get rid of some of the things that we do not need. Some of those things include the kids’ toys that they no longer play with or have outgrown. I try to “thin the herd” so to speak, from time to time, but it has been awhile since I have taken the time to do it.

When I pack up some of those toys they no longer play with, I usually will put them in a box down in the basement, then wait a month or so to see if they actually notice anything is missing. If one of the children notices a particular toy is gone and asks for it, it is spared banishment from the household. However, they usually don’t even realize the change, and after that month has passed, the toys migrate their way to the Salvation Army or the Lutheran Thriftstore.

The problem comes in if one of the children, who infrequently go down into the basement (since it’s mostly used for storage anyway), actually go down into the basement and see the box of toys sitting there. Since they rarely go down there, I make no effort to hide them away. All of a sudden, toys that haven’t been given a second thought in weeks become highly coveted. A battle of wills then ensues to determine if the toys shall stay or go.

Before this week is out, Operation Selective Toy Reduction will have taken place. Though difficult, this process will be nothing compared to Operation Selective Comic Book Reduction and Operation Selective Star Wars Stuff Reduction, which will (hopefully) take place with my husband sometime before our move next month. Stay tuned for the outcome on that one. . .

THE CONFESSIONS OF A (NON) ART COLLECTOR

I got busted last night. Maggie and I were standing in the kitchen while I was doing the dishes after supper. Out of the clear blue, she asks me, "where is that birdhouse I made?" I knew exactly what she was talking about, but to stall and think of something to tell her, I said, "what?" She said, "you know - that birdhouse I made at Vacation Bible School this summer - where is it?"

Allow me to elaborate. This summer, Maggie went to a Vacation Bible School where the theme had something to do with the Wild West. One thing that she brought home from Bible School that week was a really cute "wanted" poster, done in the style of the old West, that had her picture on it and said "Wanted by God." I thought it was really cute, and she has it hanging on her bulletin board in her bedroom. Another thing that she brought home was a tiny cowboy boot about four inches in height, made of thin craft wood, and painted in dayglo orange, pink and green. It had an opening on it the size of a nickel in the shape of a star that a bumblebee would be hard-pressed to get through. She called this creation a bird house. The "birdhouse" hung out on the kitchen counter for a week until she had forgotten about it, then it was shoved to the bottom of the trash can and picked up by our garbage man on an early Thursday morning.

Oh, you'd better not be thinking to yourself: she is so heartless! Not saving her children's special art projects, shame on her, she belongs in the bad mom hall of fame. Confession time here - - NOPE - I don't save every creation my children bring into the house. I will admire and compliment them on their artwork and drawings and colorings and paintings, but I don't save every single one. That's not to say that I don't save SOME things, but I indeed do not save every piece of paper that a crayon has ever touched, or every art project that a gluestick has ever graced. If I did, I think I would have to rent a separate storage facility to simply house it all.

If you visit my house, you will see the kids' artwork hanging on the fridge. As more things come in the house that they want on the fridge, the old stuff has to go somewhere. A few of the things do get saved in boxes I have set aside for each of them that I keep under my bed. Most of it though gets relegated to the vertical file. And occasionally, like last night, my tidy habits have a way of biting me in the butt. And so I looked my daughter in the eye and firmly said, "ummmmmmm......I'm not sure where it is." (because that is true after all - - I don't know where our garbage is taken once it leaves my house!!) But she knows me....yes, she knows me well. She took one look at me and said, "you pitched it, didn't you?" Under the pressure of my six-year old's knowing eye, I caved. "Yes, sweetie, I think I did," I admitted. She didn't seem that fazed by it, and we moved on to talk about something else.

HEY - nobody better diss me in the comments section for keeping the clutter to a minimum in my house by selective artwork reduction. . . .if you have a problem with it, I can always set aside a box of "treasures" just for you. My kids can even come over and help you redecorate. . . .