Playthings

I have spent an inordinate amount of my adult life sorting children's toys.  I am grateful that I haven't kept track of time spent in such pursuit, as the actual number of hours might be depressing.  And also, my mother might wonder why the toy room of my childhood was always a disastrous mess.
Let me share an extremely well-kept secret: I like organizing stuff. I like organizing best when I start with an incredibly tangled muddle and end with inspirational order.  If someone were to stop by my house right now, there would be no visual clues that I like to categorize and catalog. That is because I'm letting certain messes marinate in order to bring the optimal joy when they are finally dealt with.
What did I organize today?
Baby Dolls. Each one has had her face washed, is clothed and is now sleeping in either the doll bed (most important) or the toy chest downstairs (those selected for upcoming playtime with cousins) or in the closet (least loved dollies). One extremely special doll is sitting in the doll highchair where she will be allowed to binge on plastic food all night long.  It may be wrong to teach dolls to be emotional eaters, but this poor thing must find some way to deal with the purple ink that Mr. Clean Magic Eraser failed to clear off her wee little face.
Plastic Kitchen Toys and Play Food. One of the special perks of the organizing job is the authority to reduce the stock of pretend play wares when no one is looking.  For me, it's not emotional eating (because it's plastic, right?) but perhaps an emotional purging. I'm saying this like it's a dysfunction, but really, it's healthy. I only threw away the stuff that had black spots, was impossibly dented or had passed it's expiration date. Just kidding. There's no expiration date on toy food, right? Because we've had this certain tomato flung around our house for a long time...
Dress Up Clothes.  The old bridesmaid dresses went back to the attic like a bunch of satin Cinderellas. The child-sized "princess" dresses aren't nearly as pretty as the former-wedding wear and were feeling rather jealous.
Reusable and Paper Grocery Bags.  I have 18 paper grocery bags folded neatly and stacked beneath the respectable collection of reusable grocery bags.  Obviously, if I'd remember the latter the numbers of the former would cease multiplying. I can't really untangle that last sentence, and I am doing well to remember my list when I procure groceries, so we need not fear a shortage of paper sacks in the near future.
I'm really glad I spent the time organizing the grocery bags, as everything else should be undone in about 14 hours, just after I have finished lining up eleven years' worth of story books by height, publisher, author and subject matter.  The books should last until my school children get home and find the beautifully shelved books irresistibly readable.

Should I spend time on tasks so easily reversed? Should I be bothered by the impermanence of my works? Somehow I feel good. Accomplishments, even if they are only celebrated by a party of one and demolished by a party of five, are mildly addictive. A checked off list, even one scrawled on the food-stained backside of old homework, is a reward in itself. My world is small, but growing larger each day. Someday the baby dolls will be organized for good and lonely. I myself may have to play with them and taste the plastic food alone.  [I wonder if the bridesmaid dresses will still fit?]

Sorting [Unwillingly] My Times

I'm realizing that organization may not be optional.
But it feels like it should be.
I willingly organize certain aspects of our family life. Ok, very few aspects.
But.
There's a pile of "Not Getting Itself Done" stuff. Maybe if I were more organized, I'd have time for all the fun and games and the diapers that need to be washed.
I doubt it, though. I secretly think if I were more organized I would just have more opportunities to be angry. Angry when my strictly ordered life was tracked through with the unexpected, angry when my strictly ordered life showed no time to sit and read.
We'll see.

New Month, New Endeavor(s)

endeavor:

noun,

1.) a conscientious or concerted effort toward an end; an earnest attempt.

2.) purposeful or industrious activity; enterprise.

It may not be obvious to all, but my main activity this month will be having a baby. Toward this goal, nearly all of my activities will be focused. I have 24 days left until the promised arrival of #5, but I am trying to be realistic with this forecasted date because as of yet, no one has asked #5 what his/her plans are. Still, I am trying to keep myself busy so I am not sitting around sore and bored, waiting for baby to come.

So here is our endeavor for today: cleaning the boys' room and devising a method to keep it thus. I'm calling this project
The Hilary,
named for my aunt who stood in their bedroom doorway and asked "do they ever have to clean their room?"

The Hilary

Phase 1: Big Clean Up.

The sons are currently in the midst of this part. I divided the clean up into six tasks, written on small slips of card stock.

• Pick up books and magazines and put away (nicely) on the bookshelf.
• Pick up small toys (like Legos and K'nex) and put away.
• Gather up dirty laundry and bring downstairs.
• Carry trash downstairs and put a new bag in the wastebasket.
• Make bed and put away clean clothes (Weston).
• Make bed and put away clean clothes (Sammy).

Each boy selected three face-down slips of paper. I have promised to come vacuum and put clean sheets on their beds when they finish with their tasks. Yes, there has already been conflict, but we will overcome so as to make progress toward Phase 2.

The Hilary
Phase 2: Maintain Tidiness

The sons will have until Spring Break (conveniently beginning in 24 days) to keep their room tidy. I will inspect their room each morning after they go to school. If it passes my inspection, I will mark a smiley face beside the date; if it fails, I will draw a frowney face. If they receive 18 smileys they will earn the agreed upon reward. If they never get a frowney they will receive a bonus prize.

I don't know if I feel like the prize announcer on a game show or like the bizarre rule-makers of my college years. All I know is that I'm largely pregnant and rather weary of bending over to pick up their messes.

Later, upon further reflection: I am quite certain that my presentation of this fabulous idea was unfortunately more in the tones of dictatorial rule-maker instead of Charlie O'Donnell, but the room is clean and we're all set for Phase 2. You know, maybe I need an inspector to keep me on my toes. A smiley face for every morning that the kitchen is tidy?