Am I being dramatic? Forgive me, I spend 95% of my time with 3 very overemotional girls, so they tend to rub off on me (or me on them). And forgive me, I don’t mean to complain about it. I am aware that every single one of them was my choice, and it’s also my choice to spend all of my time with them. But forgive me, I’m going to complain, for blogging gives me that right, and right or wrong I will purge unto you one of the heaviest burdens on my shoulders at the moment: Clutter.
1/2-2/3 of my time with the girls is spent telling them to clean up, and they do a great job in general, and I should be very happy. But instead I feel crazy for so many reasons, 2 of those being garden shovels and books.
The past few days I have been haunted by pink garden shovels. I put them in the stroller to be brought to our garden, and 5 minutes later they show up in their snack cupboard. I put them back in the stroller, they end up in the kids laundry bag?? I put them back in the stroller, I find them under a pillow on the couch. All kids have that annoying superpower of making chaos out of the simplest, cleanest space. And though pink shovels are not a simple, clean possession, please just leave them in the fucking stroller, that is all I’m asking.
Next topic: Books. Am I a bad parent if I sneak books off of the girls’ shelves that I don’t like? 1 or 2 a night for the past 5 nights? It’s my new thing. Some of the ones I pick, they never read anyway, and others they always read but I hate. I’m going to give them away. That may be mean, but in a small way it means I have control. I know I don’t really have control, and I’m not fooling anyone, but I can pretend to fool myself right? That sounds healthy to me. Pretending to fool anyone, especially yourself, is always a great idea. That and depriving your kids of books they are in love with but you don’t agree with. Two great ideas, one mediocre blog post.
In short: Cleaning up is hard to do. (So is breaking up, but that comes later, when they’re older). And there will be a day when I’ll WISH all I had to do was ask them to clean up ‘things’ and not their ‘act’.
But for now I shall ignore all of that, throw out as many things as I can without them noticing, and also ignore the fact that the only reason I keep finding those pink shovels in all the wrong places is because I have neglected to put them in the right place myself. Hmmmmmmm, yes, blame it on the rain again, the ‘rain’ being me, the ‘blame’ being shame, and ‘it’ being clutter. Shame clutter on me again. NOW everything makes sense. And it doesn’t, that is why I am insane in the brain.
This baby was in on the floor. I put it in the baby bin. They put it on the counter. I put it in the baby bin. They put it on the bathroom floor, having a tantrum? Yes, I am.
By the way, if you look closer, you will notice that none of this clutter on my desk belongs to the girls. Did I just call my kettle black? I guess I did.