Will somebody please tell me to stop reading through everybody else's blogs and go to bed! It's about 2.15am and I've been awake since 6am and I am not doing anyone a favour by still being here.
While I'm asking for sage advice - what do I do with all those bloody Hot Wheels tracks that don't fit back into the boxes they came in even if I still had them? I've got about 4 sharing a couple of baskets that I cannot tell apart with dinosaurs and aliens and god knows attached to bits of them. I cannot make them comply with the rules of this house - ie if you don't fit nicely in one of Mummy's baskets you will be evicted. Only I can't evict Hot Wheels. That's a step too far for even evil me. I have been ruthless in my dealings with the previously mentioned delightful wooden toys. Hidden in a cupboard rests about £50, 000 - worth of bloody natural organic treasures your children will cherish forever hand-made by dyslexic dolphins on a yoga retreat in Lindisfarne. Fuck 'em. Mutant deviants with flashing bits from the anals of China R Us after all. It's good to be back.
I suppose I have the bastard rodents to thank for this intensive clearing and cleaning of the past few days. Am now obsessed with seeing bits of carpet and patches of wall where there used to be just stuff. The stench of death hangs in the air but I can reach the curtains again.
I'm almost retching at the memory of money handed over in the past few years for all these Good and Worthy imagination-freeing toys. Cared for by ...... me. But the sense of liberation now I'm ditching all this crap is truly imagination-freeing. We just don't need it - they never did! It was only me thinking this is Good For Them.
I still hate bright beeping plastic things in my house but a while ago I just bought a big sea-grassy trunk thing so I can hide the worst of it in there when I'm feeling all delicate. Battery things may still mysteriously disappear when the first battery runs out (or is ripped out) here and there but I am much more chilled about dealing with stuff I know they actually play with. And the battery things that are granted asylum will now be unscrewed - replaced - screwed up again by the small people themselves now - Good. I'm busy chucking out their other stuff while they're occupied doing that.
I've also concurred that they do not get their kicks from collage - just because 'when I was their age...' and they're not dedicated to weaving, nor do they spend much energy making clothes for their toys, or even bother making camps that often from our old voile curtains and so in finally realizing this I have freed up 4 more large baskets of patronisingly provided raw materials.
And then I started on my Home Ed Heaven Cabinet of Wonder. Oh wow. I really am a fucked-up mind control freak. Unfortunately alot of it has ended up back where it was - maybe it visited another basket for an hour or two and lost a few old hangers-on but I can't change everything about me overnight. But I reduced and reorganised and even now celebrate the purple and orange and green boxes and boxes and boxes of dinosaury bits. Colour and wicker live side by side. My bin is overflowing. I have a tower of about 12 (last count) empty baskets - to either dump (oh-god-oh-god I need basket counselling) or to refill with my next wondrous plans to compartmentalise the world (no-No-NO!!!)
The sea-grassy trunk needs attention too. I'm sure the beeping stuff is held aloft by georgette scarves of all soft tones and Aesop's Fabled finger puppets etc.
And the next stop - the musical instruments trunk. I'm shaking like a maracca (help with spelling here please Not Waving?) already at the thought of relinquishing my coconut halves and bottle cap rattlers. One step at a time eh?
Noone can say I didn't try. I did more than dip my toe in the pure gentle waters of Conscious Parenting and can say with total honesty that Unconscious Parenting is way more preferable - and more effective - and cheaper - and ...... more colourful.
And that's not just my language.