Since my family left, I’ve been slowing going through each drawer and closet to get them back into order. Seems like my soul and my psyche mirror the state of my drawers and cupboards, so it behooves me to keep them all in order. Or something resembling order. Or something more orderly than absolute chaos.
I finally decided to bring all the toys and books downstairs into our front bedroom. Having to open or crawl or leap over three boundaries (for the adventurous baby) to get to the bookshelf was just too much hassle. Not to mention that the adventurous baby would then stand at the bottom of the stairs and yell his indignation at my disappearance into the Glory Above.
So it’s all moved down, and almost all moved in.
I took the opportunity to examine the STUFF that we have by way of toys. And I can now say with all certainty that we do not need any more
- stuffed animals
- doll clothes (at least until they reach the age where they start dressing their dolls instead of undressing them)
- small toys that I lump together in the descriptive category of “doodads”
- play kitchen items
- dress-up clothes
We are well-endowed in these categories with things that we love and use. And there is no room for more at the present time. (Although, being that most of our book collection are hand-me-downs and not chosen specifically for our personal library, I’d like to state that I fully intend to keep building our library with carefully chosen books. And I will slowly continue to weed out the less-than-worthy books already present.)
Well-endowed is the right term for our state of Toy-dom. Indeed, in my opinion we are probably over the edge into ‘overly-endowed’. I’m having long arguments with myself over the morality of decluttering some toys without permission. Because Lia’s old enough to notice missing items now.
Although, I am proud to say that as Lia and Amelie and I sat together, we were able to make a small pile of toys to give away.
Some people carry guilt over their perpetually sinful state. I don’t. I carry guilt over things like stuff. (And consumption. And environmental things. Because, after all, in the end sin is dealt with, but using clorox has boundless consequences. This is my perspective.)
On the one hand, I hate STUFF and think wistfully of a life of gandhian simplicity. Goat and all.
But on the other hand, there is a bunch of STUFF out there that I want and would use faithfully. And there is a lot of STUFF here at home that I love and use faithfully.
So I swither and dither on a regular basis. And the swithering/dithering helps me to balance My-Self-the-Pack-Rat with My-Self-the-Ascetic.
And now I’m off to finish up the room and hope that I can get it organized in a rational and aesthetically pleasing manner. While remembering to position the paint supplies and markers way out of reach.