This is the “picked up” version of our family room.
It’s basically a minimalist/Montessori/home decorator nightmare. I get that.
And see that closet over there? There are more toys in there. And not like one or two more. A lot more. And to add to the embarrassment, there is even a playroom full of toys in the basement. Yeah.
Before you label me as some sort of crazy toy hoarder, I feel like it is worth mentioning that we have three kids, the oldest of whom is almost eight. So we’ve been gathering toys for nearly eight years, and in the past three years have tripled the number of birthday and Christmas presents by adding two more kids. It adds up. Plus when you stay home your house basically functions as your home and your daycare, right? That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
Do I love this ever-rising tide of toys? No. I don’t love it.
More often than not, this room drives me crazy. I watch the Netflix documentary on minimalism and I want to throw every last one of these toys in the Goodwill bin. I read another Montessori book and I want to pack everyone in the car and drive five hours to Ikea and completely remodel this room into organized shelves with no more than five toys made out of wood and natural materials. I look at a magazine and I want to gut this room and turn it into a spa-like den with a meditation corner and a reading nook.
Sometimes I even take a semi-reasonable approach to it and dream about moving all the toys to the play room except for what can be put away in the closet.
But here’s the thing: This is the room we live in. The play room is fun and I love that we have a place for the toys and it’s great to be able to move down there for a change of scenery in our days at home. But our family room houses the diaper changing station and the potty chair, the pack ‘n play to contain the toddler when I have to use the bathroom, the recliner for snuggling, and big windows with a view of both the front and the back yard. It’s our landing spot.
One day as I was plotting my next war on the room, I stopped. As cliche as it sounds, I realized that it won’t be like this forever. It won’t even be like this for long. My seven year old is already starting to lean more toward older kid interests than toys. Before I know it, I will be sitting in a tidy, organized living room wishing that someone wanted to dump out all the blocks in the middle of the floor.
There will be plenty of time to have my house look “decluttered”. But there will never be enough time with these little people who want nothing more than to use the couch cushions as the bed for the monkeys to jump on.
Does this mean I’m giving up the war on the toy-tide? Not exactly.
I mean, we still have to live in here. I want them to have space to play floor lava and build forts and use their imaginations. Play isn’t dependent on toys. And I know my brain runs more smoothly when the clutter is kept to a reasonable level, so I have to assume the same might be true for them.
But the toys that collect here are their favorites, the ones they play with daily. And there’s something to be said for surrounding yourself with what you love.
So I’ll spend another day sorting through what to move out of the rotation and what to keep and reorganizing the closet to more efficiently hold back the wave of toys constantly spilling out even though within a few days you won’t be able to tell I did any organizing at all.
But this time maybe I’ll do it with a little more gratitude. Gratitude for this room and all the beautiful moments of life we live within it. And gratitude for these little people I get to share those moments with.