I did some time in her room today. Over an hour. It took that long to go through her bin of artwork and her "pink bin." The pink bin is where all the little plastic pieces of shit go. Rubber balls, spider rings, spare change, Barbie shoes, game pieces, plastic bugs, a toy tank and a toy alligator, broken necklaces, hair bands, and today I found a sock that I'd been looking for. Between the two bins I hauled out one whole grocery bag of recycling and another whole grocery bag of garbage, and that's the two bags for today.
The longer I work in that room, and find all the teeny tiny pieces to games and sets of things, and trash, and broken things and all that CRAP, the lousier I feel. I don't know how hoarders do it. Seriously, I don't know how they don't just run screaming from their piles of stuff or just light their houses on fire. I have so let this room go, and the deeper I dig, the worse it gets. We all know I will never win awards for my housekeeping, but this is something entirely different. This child is living in a landfill of her own making, and I am letting it happen. Oh, the shame!
But this is ending. I've now hauled a total of 6 bags of stuff out of there. The big container in the garage is full, and I'm not nearly done. There will come a day when that room is habitable again, and it will be soon! In the meantime, I'm leaving it a mess so it is less obvious that things are missing. So far, she doesn't suspect a thing. I've decided that when I get to the point where she has to notice, like I'm moving furniture and stuff like that, I will tell her that, since she's almost eight, its time to make it an eight year-old's room, and play it like that. I'll let her pick out a new sheet set (from a mother-pre-approved selection) and that will be her great contribution. She'll never know what happened, except that her room is manageable and easier to clean, and her games have all their pieces and all is well with the world.
Now I have to get ready for lunch. Bon appetit!