I have spent the last several days just clearing out the toy room. After five kids and about 15 years, there are a LOT of toys. The girls went to my neighbor’s yard sale the other morning and brought home more treasures, and I thought, “That’s it! It has to stop somewhere.” Not that the trinkets were bad. They’re fine. But they just added to the already enormous pile of toys that’s probably cloning out there.
So today, I felt super duper super when I took the kids to school and then dashed home and made quick work (well, kinda slow– everything takes longer than I think it will) of a huge black plastic garbage bag full of sheer trash. Broken toys, ripped doll clothes, actual garbage. THEN, I loaded up a second huge black plastic garbage bag full of toys they really, really don’t need. Toys they’re too old for, toys they never play with, toys I find truly annoying. It’s hidden in the back of the truck to be deposited at the thrift store for some other mom to enjoy someday.
Like the cute young mom who offered to buy my gallon-Ziplock bag full of mega-bloks for $5. Bless her heart!
NOT ONLY THAT, but I also got rid of a huge, square grand piano last week. It was a collection site in my living room for about 10 years. Just a landing place for people’s homework and neckties and computer parts and dust. Now? Someone else’s living room collection site. Someone who I hope will give it the respect it deserves. It was a pretty thing. Just…magnetic.
Phew. Can I just say? It’s great to chuck stuff in the trash. Very empowering.
There’s probably some analogy, like decluttering = severe manuscript editing in there, but I’m just not in that mode for a few more weeks. I need some kind of super hero cape and mask as I carry on in my important, sanity-saving work of making the house safe. For a time.