I’m about to expose a part of myself that may seem neurotic and plain down-right-mommy-crazy, but I know this blog has established the state of my sanity time and time again, so the following post will not surprise you. Growing up I had a lot of toys. In fact, I’m sure I still do have a lot of toys- in my parents’ attic in Flagstaff. Around every Christmastime I’d dog-ear the JC Penny Toy catalog, make a list and get what I wanted from Saint Nick and then some. I was a pretty
-That is where I would begin if I was reclined on a couch droning on about this obsession of mine. But I’m writing a post not paying for a session, so I won’t make you pay either.
The fact of the matter is: I hate toys.
I finally admitted this to myself yesterday as I was panning through Caleb’s room, sorting his toys. He has taken to dumping out all his toy bins lately during quiet (pft) time. And, after weeks of letting him tidy-up I finally had to intervene. (that is a tendency for another day)
Any mom can tell you it is during those moments you consider the quantity of your kids’ toys. I always come to the same tally: too many.
Now, in reality, Caleb does not have a lot of toys.
He doesn’t. Comparatively.
But I’m crazy-pants, remember?
Here are some of my core beliefs regarding toys:
- First, in my house, I believe in adult space. This does not mean my house does not look child inhabited, just that by the end of day/week/fortnight/whenever-I-get-around-to-it-dang-it my goal is to sweep all toys upstairs into the boys’ room. (By the way, Nate and Caleb are totally roomies now) I also don’t permit toy loitering in my bedroom- that’s my martial space. Because of this principle it makes finding “towers” and toy figures in random places seem like a token not disorder. As a mom who stays at home, I spend a great deal of my time in my house- it’s my workspace- and… I don’t know how to say this without disenchanting motherhood, but I can’t allow myself or my house be consumed by my children, they ready have so much of, well, everything dedicated to them.
- We don’t do noise and if we do, they have off-switches or batteries can be removed. We never really established this rule, but Mike and I kind of floated towards it. Not because he don’t like clamor (we don’t), but because boys come with built-in sound effects, who needs a microchip?
- I like wooden toys and prefer them. There’s something refreshing about them in this age of plastic.
- Everyday household items can be amended and become toys.
- I stay away from buying trademark characters-themed toys (freecycle and gifts are fine though). They are pricey, they come and go but imagination is always popular.
- Stuff animal is another word for petri dish. I tolerate them, but if I had my way…
That’s how I feel about toys.BOOKS, on the other hand…
I spend on average fifty bucks a year on children’s and YA literature. About thirty five of that is spent at the semi-annual book sales each year where children’s books are a quarter each.
Do the math. Show your work.
Correct answer: Caleb needs a bigger bookshelf.(Don’t worry, Mike is on it. More on that later.)
This year at the book sale they also offered puzzles for .25 each so I snagged three of those too.
So far, my toy tendencies have been tolerated, but I am ever so aware of the looming day when Caleb will respond to advertisements and will begin coveting peers’ belongings and entreating me for more, more, more.
Is it wrong or even possible for me, in this case, to ask to be medicated to enhance my phobia? In order to give me the courage as a parent to hold my stance and Nancy-Reagan it?
To just say no?
In the name of Mattel give me strength.
