Friday, January 8, 2010

Wanted: One blowtorch

There are about a million great reasons to have children, but one of the changes I've had trouble dealing with lately is wondering where my beautiful, organized home went.

Jerry and I spent almost a year getting our house to look the way we wanted it. We removed drop ceilings, horrid wallpaper, bought upwards of 20 gallons of paint, and I scoured every store and website for the perfect decorative touches. After all our hard work, it was a great source of pride.

But now it's filled with kid clutter that just doesn't seem to dissipate no matter how much I keep after it or how many baskets and bins I dedicate to containing it. At any given time, there is guaranteed to be something underfoot and out of place -- blocks, train track parts, books, tiny plastic characters and the random scenes they came with, board game pieces and the always-AWOL stuffed animals.

To top it off, Allison is in that awesome destructive stage. She wants to write on walls, purposely spill her drink to see where the liquid will go and throw things just to hear them hit the floor. In the past few weeks, I've sadly discovered that the Magic Eraser does have its limits. Mr. Clean can't remove pen from the back of a white door -- no matter how hard you scrub. It can, however, remove pen from placemats. And chalk from wood floor.

Every time I think I've found a somewhat acceptable place to contain her kid crap, it multiplies. I swear her things come alive at night just to procreate and take over the house. I just hope the 911 operator who answers my inevitable call about being suffocated by stuffed animals has kids so she'll understand that it's a genuine emergency.

The sad thing is, we used to have empty rooms. I remember when we first moved in, I put the desk at an angle in the office because it was the only piece of furniture in there. Now everything is crammed against a wall, not an inch of space between the bed, end table, rocking chair, bookshelf, toybox and desk.

And the center of the room is always filled with stuff that should be in the toybox.

It feels like we're bursting at the seams.

I'll know it's time to move to a bigger house when I come home to find a white flag out waiving out of the chimney.

7 comments:

Jen said...

Kelly, I can totally relate and Ryan's only five months old. lol. He doesn't leave toys around, but our living room feels filled to the brim sometimes and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before his toys and books take over our little ranch house. Just remember kids do sleep. :)

Lioncloud said...

The babysitter used to call your cousin, "Vanessa the Destroyer."

Lena said...

Just my two cents: I feel the same way. My son is less than a month younger than your daughter. Boys are much more destructive than girls in my opinion. It gets on my nerves a lot since I'm so anal/OCD. For example, I make his bed and line up all his stuffed animals and toys "just so" and in less than 2 minutes everything's all over the house again. I think it's his dad's fault. Yes, I blame him. One of the things he has taught our son is to have breakfast in bed (I can't do anything about this because I'm at work). I hate finding crumbs, pillows, sheets, blankets, etc everywhere. I know, I need to relax, but if I loosen up too much we'd be living in a pig pen. Oh yeah, BTW, anything "decorative" was put in storage right before he was born. Oh how I miss decorating with "pretty" things!

Lena (P.S. It's easier to reply to you here than on Facebook)

Ray said...

I loved these two quotes, " I just hope the 911 operator who answers my inevitable call about being suffocated by stuffed animals has kids so she'll understand that it's a genuine emergency" AND "I'll know it's time to move to a bigger house when I come home to find a white flag out waiving out of the chimney." ;D

Remember that you have your studio: so you can just run up there when those army of toys want to bring you down! LOL! =P Or has the studio been red-flagged as well? o.O

the_plainsman said...

You just described the difference bewteen a house and a home. The pretty house in a magazine and yours resemble each other, except that the house the magazine lacks evidence that a loving family inhabits it and lives life to its fullest in it each day.

Reminds me of a story told to me once by an older employee. One day, their neighbor came over and was pointing out to her husband the bare spots in the lawn under the tree swing, by the kids playhouse and where they cut across the sidewalk to the other side of the house. After the neighbor was though, her husband said yes, that's true, but I'm raising a family here, not lawn grass.

Ps. Even the bigger house will never be big enough, then suddenly it will be way too big when Alli goes to college.

Kristin said...

I can see why that would be frustrating :/

Anonymous said...

eh. I figure I'm ready...I have a husband who can't pick up after himself. Although he's been warned that come babytime, I stop picking/putting his stuff up and start throwing it away. I might have an issue. Or two.

OK. A lot.