I’ll admit right from the off my skills as a domestic goddess are woefully lacking and my house often resembles something out of a horror film except instead of blood we have toys what seems like millions and millions of toys. But my completely ineffective cleaning prowess is even more challenged by these little people who began their invasion many years ago.
None of the books before they came, you know those fantastic how to be mother Earth types, not one of them mentioned the sheer volume of singing, colourful, annoying plastic implements of torture (toys) little people manage to accumulate. Where do they come from? I’m positive in this house they breed and to be honest at a rate that could only be matched by the horniest (think i made that word up) bunnies in the UK. Some days I leave for work thinking I’ve finally managed to get everything in order. I have my mandated ikea monstrosity that is the transition into grown up dom and being a parent. We fill it, organise it and make sure little hands have easy access to stay entertained. I think this is my school boy error as no sooner do I organise, fill and tidy do my little people troops change tactics and empty from the other side. It can only be described as ‘Pissing in the wind’ I wouldn’t do that would I? So why do I gallantly keep on put toys back while the little people or in this case tormentors have so much fun taking them all out again.
Today another day I came home and honestly I think Smyths toys and Toysrus have finally declared all out war. There is STUFF everywhere; Batman in the fridge of the toy kitchen, a pile of lego clearly just left there to catch me out, oso crammed into a little tikes car with numerous other cuddly toys and a 4 year old. Seriously I don’t know where half this stuff comes from. I’m fairly certain my own mother is complicit in the plan to aid said toy shops to gain full and total domination of my living room every time we visit it’s, ‘ooooo I got you boys a present’. I love presents as much as the next person but honestly where do I put them?
Someone should really warn people when having little people it isn’t just the sleepless nights, crying, pooing, feeding, moods you have to put up with its the STUFF. Tons and tons of stuff.
If I manage one day without almost breaking my neck falling over a batcave or having a tiny piece of lego bring tears to my eyes as it embeds itself to the sole of my foot I consider it a good day and a clean living room. I think the reality is that because of the blessings of joys and love I receive from my kids I just have to accept the stuff. Stuff makes my kids happy I’ll never have a clean house but I’ll always have happy kids.