Who would have thought putting laundry away could be hazardous to your health? Certainly not me, but that's just what it became last night when I made the nightly pilgrimage into my daughter's room to tidy it up before bedtime.
I was expecting the usual. You know, Bitty Baby clothes strung here and there. A few stickers scattered on the floor and at least 2 shirts lying on her bed, the result of one too many wardrobe changes during the day if you ask me. What I was not expecting was to be bombarded with dominos when I opened her closet, or to have a pink princess tent (falling out of the box of course) spring out from it's box and attack me.
How in the world did she accumulate so much stuff? I thought to myself as I tried to find the box that belonged to the dominos. And why does putting dominos away have to be such a pain in the neck? You can't just throw them all in the box and forgeddaboutit, oh no, you have to line them up perfectly, make neat little rows and stacks, the whole she-bang...
It's exhausting, no wonder she doesn't want to do it.
The boys roll their eyes and sigh, "Make her clean her own room Mom." And then I remind them that she's a work in progress, just like they once were at her age when I used to brush their teeth for them, clean their rooms, pack their lunches...wait. I still pack their lunches, what are they complaining about?
They often forget that she's 7-years-old, five and six whole years younger than they are. I grow weary of explaining over and over again that yes, they did the same things (in their own ways) when they were her age - the one big difference being that they didn't have an older sibling to annoy with their behavior.
She leaves her mark in every room in the house.
Currently, there is a small purple teddy bear under a bench in my hallway, socks in the living room, a beaded hair tie in the kitchen along with with a bright pink feather boa. Her baby's high chair is in the dining room, her boots are in my office. She has books in one brother's room, Barbies in the other and there's a makeshift fort for her babies on the floor next to my husband's side of the bed.
She has taken over.
It's intervention time.
As I was pulling the ridiculous princess tent from it's awkward position in her closet after it had just nearly killed me, I may or may not have had a teeny tiny hissy fit over her clutter.
Okay, I did.
I told her that we were going to organize her room for ONE LAST TIME the next day. All of those baby clothes were going to find their place on her baby's changing table (for goodness sake, her baby has a changing table, you'd think that would be the logical place to keep her baby things) and if they didn't, oh baby, there was going to be heck to pay! I would confiscate any item left out of place at the end of each day. I told her she'd have to "buy them back" by cleaning her room and picking up her things around the house.
Oh yes, I did.
I was on a roll.
And furthermore, the buck stops here. After endless playtime with Polly Pockets in the bathtub, I told her, "No more!" I informed her that she could pick a few dolls and appropriate bath accessories for them to keep in the plastic tub under the sink reserved especially for bath toys(like boats and inner tubes - betcha didn't know Polly Pocket had her very own boat or inner tube, did ya?) but that the van (oh yes, the van) would have to be kept OUT OF THE BATHROOM.
Was that really so much to ask?
We'll see if she's still speaking to me when I pick her up at the bus stop this afternoon.