Dumpster Diving Preschooler

Now that the new baby finally seems to have an actual “schedule” I’ve been trying to get this house back into a semi-clean state. I say semi-clean because lets freaking face it… I didn’t have a clean house BEFORE I had kids, so I’m not trying to shoot beyond reality here.

The biggest part of cleaning around here is decluttering. When you have a kid, you have just accumulated a fucktillion pounds of stuff. Some of which you need, most of which will never be with you when you need it and all of which costs a lot of money. As kids get older, they still produce more stuff…

“Mommy I made you a picture.”

“Mommy I made you a painting”

“Mommy I made you a craft”

“No, Mommy I want to keep that, it’s my paper collection”

IT’S JUST A BIG PILE OF GARBAGE, A LITERAL PILE OF TRASH!!! PAPER COLLECTION?

NO, YOU’RE A HOARDER IN TRAINING.

And don’t get me started on the goody bag toys, the stocking stuffers, the Easter basket trinkets, the sports medals and trophies… each of which has distinct sentimental value to a child. I get it kid, I really do…. but something has to go, and since you are mine, it’s gonna have to be all this extra crap.

Which brings us to today. I just cleaned out the playroom and found some plastic, useless crap that needed to go…. Goodbye plastic crap, hope to never see you, or your brothers again. And I was rid of it. {happy sigh} until the 3-year-old came home from school.

Of course I was on the phone, If you want your child’s attention, pretend to be on the phone… because it seems that is the only time they ever want to talk to you. After eating his banana and throwing away the peel, I guess he saw some of his junk in the trash…

“Mom, but this not garbage….”

{He’s walking toward me wearing 500 silly bands of assorted colors, a plastic Fireman’s Hat, a macaroni necklace made by his 8-year-old brother (7 FREAKING YEARS AGO), while holding a hot pink plastic egg in one hand and a handful of green plastic grass (with a tampon wrapper in it) in the other}

Ummmm, yeah it is…

“But this my stuff, I not done with it yet”

He is currently at the coffee table playing with the pile of “his” stuff.

Nap-time starts in 15 minutes.

I’ve learned my lesson.

No more kitchen trash for decluttering.

Garage garbage can from now on.

If he scales that bitch I’m in serious trouble.

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