Cleaning Out the Toys

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This is a story with a beginning, a middle, and an ending yet to come.

A few weeks ago I went into Nicholas’s room to grab his hamper of dirty clothes. I walked out confused. It wasn’t there. I went back in, thinking I made a mistake. It still wasn’t there. I walked back to the laundry room, thinking I already grabbed his hamper and forgot. It wasn’t there, either. I know it sounds silly, but I went back into his room and did a slow circle in place. No hamper! Again I walked back to the laundry room, this time staring into corners and walkways. Nothing. I gave up and assumed I was losing my mind.

I went into Mikey’s room to grab his hamper, and that’s where I found Nico’s. In the center of the room, somewhat lopsided, for all the world to see. I called out to Nicholas and asked him if he put his hamper in Mikey’s room.

He said yes. “I’m ready for my bunk beds, mama.”

Apparently, he was moving in. I told him before that was possible, we were going to have to get rid of some toys. Two boys with too many toys can’t fit in one room.

We reduced Mikey and Nico’s toys and books by 75% over the course of three weeks. What’s amazing is that Mikey and Nico are thrilled with the results.

I have yet to immerse myself in this month’s book club pick. Instead, I went to the library and checked out Simplicity Parenting once more. This time, I took copious notes and read it cover to cover instead of trying to cram it in between dozens of books almost due. I devoured it and will buy a permanent copy for our home soon.

I love this book and everything it has to say. Not everyone agrees with me. Some find the practices the books recommends difficult to follow. I could spend an entire post on this book, but for today I’ll share what we did and how the rooms look now.

They are a work in progress. I still have a ways to go before Mikey and Nico can share a room! The biggest piece of advice I can give to anyone planning a major overhaul of a child’s toy storage is that you do it on your own or with your partner. Don’t involve the children. It’s what Simplicity Parenting recommends, and having done it both ways (before and since the purge) I can tell you it’s excellent advice.

I always included the boys when purging out their toys in the past to make sure I didn’t get rid of something they truly loved. The problem is that every toy is a toy they truly love. Their memory is astounding. The know the who, what, where, and how of every single plastic widget in their room. The 5″ stuffed toucan they won at a flea-bit carnival that lived underneath the bed for two years is suddenly of utmost importance. You can spend hours arguing the necessity of keeping a Star Wars action figure with missing arms.

“Mom, he’s been injured in battle! We use him in our war scenes.”

Nice try.

We dropped the boys off with my parents for quality time and the Mister and I spent the eve before Super Bowl Sunday purging toys. It was fun! We called the shots, we flew through boxes, and we ended up with a pretty clean room for Nico (no train table, a great reduction of books, etc.) and a head start on Mikey’s (most of the expedit purged).

When we brought them home, we were nervous what they would say, especially about the missing train table (that they never used except to pile their toys).

They loved it. All of it.

Although we cleaned out the closets in October, Christmas brought another avalanche of toys from the grandparents. It was depressing and annoying. I worked so hard to clean out Mikey’s closet, and then worked hard to keep it clean. The simple truth is we were storing so many unused, outdated, or broken toys before Christmas, we had nowhere to store the new Christmas toys I didn’t feel they needed.

We’ve since come to an agreement on how gift giving will go from this point forward.

This past holiday weekend I emptied out all the toys from the closet and began purging those, along with what was left in the expedit.

I normally include lots of progress shots when I do these William Morris posts but this is all I have. It was so exhausting, so discouraging, and so absolutely overwhelming at times to be surrounded by all those toys that it was all I could do to keep from crying. I wanted to give up a thousand times and hated every minute of it. I don’t know if it’s because the boys were with me the second time around (and Nico especially slooooowed down the process) or if it was because I was coming down with a cold, but I felt really frustrated and alone.

I would pick up two toys and then stop. Pout. Wonder why I even bother, since I’m the only one who even cares if the house stays clean. Pick up two more toys and a book and then stop again. Imagine the homes of all the natural living bloggers I admire and compare it to my plastic strewn disaster.

Towards the end I cheered up as I watched Mikey take ownership of the project. When I told him he could work at the garage sale and sell toys he didn’t want (and keep the money for whatever he wants to buy) he was beside himself. He started making advertisements for all his toys and has big plans for all the money he is going to make.

19.99? Lasts only thru Monday. Buy it now and you’ll only have to pay 15.99$!

I mean, come on. You can’t stay in a bad mood in the face of superior marketing. I called it a day shortly after that and didn’t tackle their rooms again for a few more days.

This is a coincidence, but Nicholas is looking in the direction where that train table used to sit.

This is his room now. That little Target cubby system (worthless) holds his shoes in the bottom row. The rest is empty, minus what you see. We’ll sell it at the garage sale.

Here is the expedit. It’s empty! Not empty-empty, but close enough. I could have moved what’s there into the closet, but I was too tired. We’re going to sell this, too.

In the closet are toys we are going to donate, sell, or keep but are too large to store anywhere but under the bed. I prefer not to store them there because of Mikey’s allergies.

And here are the remaining toys. The three bins at the bottom store what they play with most often: dinosaurs, Hot Wheels, and action figures. They also love legos, blocks, and construction sets. I somehow managed to fit all their books onto this shelf, too. (Also worthless, also from Target.) We’re going to sell it and buy something more substantial that can actually fit picture books. Ridiculous.

In the end, we had over nine trash bags of toys and books, both functional and to discard. They’re all sitting on the back porch, waiting for the garage sale/trash day. Amazing what you keep when you aren’t paying attention.

::::::

This post was part of The William Morris Project, a weekly series that details the steps I am taking to create an intentional home. You can see more of my goals and completed projects here. To learn more about this project, start here.

::::::

Now it’s your turn! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Tell us about it with a link or comment. A few guidelines:

1. Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
2. Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
3. No links to giveaways, please.
4. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Please link the buttons back to this site.
5. Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

 

 

   

The Jewelry Box

On dark and gloomy days with nothing but rain, I pick my projects with care. I needed a project that kept me indoors, required little sunlight, and, most important of all, could be done with what I had on hand. The top of our dresser and the jewelry box that calls it home met all my requirements.

I had the Mister buy me the jewelry box as a birthday present when The Bombay Company went out of business in 2008. (Look! They were bought and are now a privately owned Canadian company.) He thought it was a strange request, and asked me twice if I was sure. Of course I was sure! I was sure I couldn’t fit one more earring in our thin, barely functioning top dresser drawers. I don’t know if it’s operator error, a product malfunction, or the way it’s supposed to be, but the drawers open about 2/3 of the way out. It’s difficult to store items in the drawers, and impossible to easily reach anything in the back. That’s why they look like this.

The perspective is deceiving in this picture. They open about 6 inches, and yet are the same depth as the rest of the drawers. We’ve looked for locks, stops, and safety tracks but haven’t found a thing. I guess top drawers aren’t meant to pull out all the way.

In 2008, it didn’t occur to me to purge our top drawers. I was just starting to acquire an interest in simple living, voluntary simplicity, and intentional living. Buying another container to contain more stuff seemed logical, and by the time I realized it wasn’t, I wanted to tackle areas with more impact. So the evidence of a life lived somewhat chaotically continued to pile.

(Sorry about the wall-eyed pictures. I don’t have the right lens for these tight quarter shots.)

The usual. Empty. Separate: Trash; Donate; Keep.

The wonky drawers received the same treatment.

Unlike most of my projects that require 800 trash bags, empty boxes, or laundry hampers, I was able to collect all the trash in one Target bag. If you consider an entire Target bag of trash collected for years in two drawers and a jewelry box, it’s not nearly as comforting.

I could easily get rid of the jewelry box and fit everything inside the two drawers, provided I find jewelry compartments to make containing them and accessing them easy. I held off on that because (1) it would be a budget breaker and (2) I’m not sure that is the route to take. I want to think about it for a while and see what would make most sense.

I’m excited I have room for more jewelry! That sounds silly, perhaps, but I love jewelry. I haven’t bought any in a while because I didn’t want to add to the clutter, not realizing that if I did a simple, 45 minute purge I would have plenty of room for pieces I would use  and love.

This project isn’t about living at the bare minimum like some Russian prisoner, scooping out thin grewl from a wooden bowl with a day old piece of bread crust. Nor do I anticipate whittling down my possessions to less than 100 items. Thanks, but no thanks. This is only about creating in an intentional home and living an intentional life. I like jewelry, so I will continue to buy jewelry–from now on I will be more conscious of getting rid of jewelry, too.

The vase in the first picture was the first thing I got rid of. I bought it years ago and had it on a sideboard we later sold. I felt guilty for not using it, so I moved it into the bedroom. I never liked it (I bought it 7 years ago when I thought I could live with aqua in my house) but didn’t want to admit I wasted money. I put it in the sell/donate pile today. This project is about owning and moving past your mistakes, too.

::::::

This post was part of The William Morris Project, a weekly series that details the steps I am taking to create an intentional home. You can see more of my goals and completed projects here. To learn more about this project, start here.

::::::

Now it’s your turn! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Tell us about it with a link or comment.

A few guidelines:

1. Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
2. Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home.
3. No links to giveaways, please.
4. A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
5. Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

<div align=”center”><a href=”http://pancakesandfrenchfries.com” title=”Pancakes and French Fries”><img src=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchfries.com/banners/useful_beautiful_wreath_375sq.jpg” alt=”Pancakes and French Fries” style=”border:none;” /></a></div>

<div align=”center”><a href=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchfries.com” title=”Pancakes and French Fries”><img src=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchries.com/banners/useful_beautiful_wreath_125sq.jpg” alt=”Pancakes and French Fries” style=border:none;” /></a></div>

How to Store Wrapping Supplies (One of Two Decabillion Ways)

I’ll start today by admitting I have no idea how that vase of lavender ended up in front of the painting, practically dead center. I vaguely remember something about a football crashing into it, lavender buds flying like confetti, and Mikey saying, “Well, at least now we can smell the lavender.” File this one under Life with Boys.

Let’s focus, instead, on wrapping paper. Specifically, the wrapping paper I left in limbo back in October. As planned, I used as much of it as I could during Christmas and did not buy anything to supplement my already embarrassing supply of cheap paper. I barely made a dent in the cheapness, and after today I have a new rule: No cheap wrapping paper, ever. I have a couple of reasons, outlined below.

1. Cheap wrapping paper comes in rolls that are either too meager or too plentiful. It’s the hotdog buns of stationery. I either don’t have enough, or I’m left with too much.
2. Cheap wrapping paper doesn’t store well. The color fades or bleeds (both, in my case) and wrinkles or tears easily.
3. Cheap wrapping paper is often impossibly trendy. What I loved in 2009 left me scratching my head in 2011–and wishing I could buy something else.
4. Cheap paper is easy to buy in quantity. If I am shopping intentionally and thoughtfully (and not just buying junk in bulk), I don’t need that much paper. This allows me the room in my budget to buy the beautiful, more expensive wrapping paper I’ve always looked at wistfully.

Allow me to be your wrapping paper cautionary tale. Stay away from the cheap paper.

I decided to store the wrapping paper in our campaign dresser. I love this thing. It has a fairly small footprint, and yet it is capable of storing 99% of the contents of our home, as the above picture details. I could have tossed the paper in one of the three empty drawers, but I am committed to having an intentional home from top to bottom, inside and out.

First thing first: take everything out and start sorting.

Bows, ribbons, ties.

Cheap wrapping paper.

Stamps.

Stickers, paper.

I also have scissors, slicers, hole punches, and other supplies that I didn’t photograph because the only thing less exciting than a picture of a pile of stickers is a picture of a pile of scissors.

I started with the wrapping paper, since I needed room to maneuver in tight quarters. I was ruthless, but ecstatic. I gave myself permission to ignore the fact I wasted money and instead rejoice in what I was gaining by recycling paper that was cheap, torn, or faded. Then I tossed rolls that were almost depleted or didn’t have enough paper to wrap a standard box. I’m notorious for keeping random sized strips of paper in case I might one day need to wrap, I don’t know, a wand.

That left me with a roll of parcel paper and one roll of good quality birthday paper. I can’t even. Shame face! (Let’s not talk about the tension rod I found among the rolls of paper.) (Although I could have totally wrapped that sucker with one of my many random strips of paper.)

I thinned out the bows (gave them to my mom), ribbons, and ties, too.

I placed them, for now, in an empty Tupperware container I had laying around. Eventually I will put them in a clear, lidded container or photo box.

I used an extra photo-box to contain my stamps.

The paper, stickers, and random holiday cards I stored in an accordion file I found in the Mister’s office. It won’t win a beauty pageant, but the solution works well for now. One day years from now, when I’m walking around the house looking for something to do, I’ll replace the accordion with one that is prettier.

The scissors, tape, et al went into a basket I found in the kitchen last October. Again, one day I will replace this set up with a lidded container.

But for now, everything fits together like the most perfect game of Tetris. I have everything in one location, easy to pull out and access. I love it.

The two rolls of wrapping paper are in the drawer to the left, along with 2394834 rolls of crepe paper. Don’t worry, today is Nicholas’s 5th birthday (!!!) and I am probably tied up in 50% of it as you read this. The supply should be thinned out by the end of the day, and what’s left I will put in a box. The parcel paper roll is too long. I’m glad I don’t have much left–the next roll I buy will fit the drawer dimensions.

Whew. 19 images, y’all. Mama is cross-eyed.

::::::

This post was part of The William Morris Project, a weekly series that details the steps I am taking to create an intentional home. You can see more of my goals and completed projects here. To learn more about this project, start here.

::::::

Now it’s your turn! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Tell us about it with a link or comment.

A few guidelines:

1. Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
2. Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home.
3. No links to giveaways, please.
4. A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
5. Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

<div align=”center”><a href=”http://pancakesandfrenchfries.com” title=”Pancakes and French Fries”><img src=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchfries.com/banners/useful_beautiful_wreath_375sq.jpg” alt=”Pancakes and French Fries” style=”border:none;” /></a></div>

<div align=”center”><a href=”http://pancakesandfrenchfries.com” title=”Pancakes and French Fries”><img src=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchfries.com/banners/useful_beautiful_wreath_125sq.jpg” alt=”Pancakes and French Fries” style=”border:none;” /></a></div>

 

Updates to the Living Room

As more people hear about The William Morris Project (thank you to all who are spreading the word) I realized that the biggest mess around here is my blog! If someone were to stop by via link to one of my William Morris posts, their first thought would undoubtedly be, “Huh?” I have no explanation, no links to previous posts, and no way for regular readers to track what I’ve done.

Oops!

I’ve also done a few projects around the house and don’t have a picture to show for my work. Double oops!

Take the living room, for example.

A few weeks ago I uploaded these images to Craigslist because, as my list so clearly states, I wanted to sell the mid century china cabinet we used in the dining room. Except we moved it into the living room to break up the world largest expanse of blank wall. Likewise with the two framed photographs.

I moved the cabinet from the dining room to the living room and then straight out the door to strangers from Burbank. See how I did that without any photographic documentation?

We have rugs now, too. More things to mark off the list without documentation! I’ll talk about the large, beautiful flat-weave that I refused to settle on another day, but suffice to say we kicked it into gear when Mikey looked around the room after all the Christmas decorations were gone and said, “I’m sad. This house looks lonely and empty.”

A shot to the heart, but only more so because he was right. With just two chairs, a coffee table, and a sofa, voices echoed off the floors and walls. It looked like someone was moving in or moving out, but not living here. Enter the large rug. For our anniversary we bought a Koldby from IKEA.

People have strong opinions about cowhides. They either love them, hate them, or think they are trendy. I can see all viewpoints, but they remind me my childhood. Being from Argentina, they were ubiquitous in our home. My mom has three on the walls in her office alone. I do think it’s funny they are so popular now. Crazy, when I think of how many people in high school and college teased me about them.

For now, our living room looks like this.

I had plans to sell this other china cabinet on Craigslist, too, but once the mid century cabinet left, I knew I had to put something in its place, at least temporarily. It will be a while before we can afford to replace it, but right now I am debating between an upright piano (I played for 11 years) or a low sitting set of bookshelves with an assortment of family pictures on top. Similar to this, but not quite so cluttered.

On Sunday, after my solitary walk, I went home feeling inspired. I unloaded the IKEA china cabinet and put everything on the dining room table. (Picture it, because I forgot to take a picture.) Then, the Mister and I moved the cabinet to its placeholder position and I spent the better part of an hour fiddle-faddling with the contents.

The bucket of white flowers is 12 years old. The vase and obscenely large candle stick (I mean, really) is around 7 years old.

Not willing to spend one red cent but aware of the decorating lesson I had just learned, I went around the house and tried to find accessories, which I generally loathe. Don’t get me wrong, I like accessories and think they make a house look homey. I just find most of them are insincere or staged for me. It’s a bit like wearing red lipstick. It looks good on everyone else, but when I do it I feel like I’m playing in my mom’s makeup drawer.

Basically, the story we have here is of a woman who was once timid, but now isn’t. She was once rushed, looking to make things work, but is now willing to wait until she finds just the right thingamabob to pretty up the coffee table. (Most likely books, rocks, and plants or a terrarium.) Also, she lives with people with severe allergies and is still looking for a candle that won’t make someone sneeze or get itchy, runny eyes. The odds aren’t looking good.

I have such plans for that large corner in the window. I see a round library or tea table stacked with books, plants, a vintage bust (I’ve always wanted one!), or even a globe. I thought this globe was snazzy, and didn’t even balk at the price. This project taught me to buy for life, and therefore prices aren’t as intimidating anymore. Only cheaply made, disposable items should have a too good to be true price, and that’s because you need to account for buying items two and three times over before you learn your lesson. If I loved it enough to buy it, I would save my money, sell items I don’t love or need, and wait until I could afford the darn globe. If it’s gone by the time I can buy it, it wasn’t meant to be. That’s neither here nor there, unfortunately, because I think the globe is too big. I would need something more petite for the size table I can fit in that corner. That’s okay–that gives me more room for a freaky bust!

::::::

This post was part of The William Morris Project, a weekly series that details the steps I am taking to create an intentional home. You can see more of my goals and completed projects here. To learn more about this project, start here.

::::::

Now it’s your turn! Feel free to share how you have lived according to the William Morris quote, “Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” Made a plan? Cleaned a drawer? Bought a sofa? Let’s hear it with a link or in the comments.

A few guidelines:

1. Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
2. No links to giveaways, please.
3. A link back to this site is always appreciated. There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Just copy the code and insert into your blog post or sidebar while in html mode.
4. Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.

<div align=”center”><a href=”http://pancakesandfrenchfries.com” title=”Pancakes and French Fries”><img src=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchfries.com/banners/useful_beautiful_wreath_375sq.jpg” alt=”Pancakes and French Fries” style=”border:none;” /></a></div>

<div align=”center”><a href=”http://pancakesandfrenchfries.com” title=”Pancakes and French Fries”><img src=”http://www.pancakesandfrenchfries.com/banners/useful_beautiful_wreath_125sq.jpg” alt=”Pancakes and French Fries” style=”border:none;” /></a></div>

 

Vignettes

Late Sunday morning was so nice. I had to run an errand, and though it would take me nowhere near our downtown, I asked the Mister if he would mind if I left him with the (sick) boys while I walked around and looked at antiques. He just rolled his eyes and said, “Please. You don’t have to ask. Go and have fun. Just don’t do anything crazy, like shabby chic.”

I pointed out that I don’t like shabby chic interiors so it wasn’t a risk. He then claimed I once sent him an email with a picture of a thrifted dresser spray-painted and made to look “chippy.” Men remember the oddest things. “Don’t forget to buy blue cheese” goes in one ear and out the other, but an email from several years ago about a white dresser? That gets burned into the brain.

I walked around all my favorite shops–not one carrying Rachel Ashwell–and had such a wonderful time by myself. I’m normally with the boys, or on rare occasions, friends. It can be hard to shop with children, of course, but the same can be said of shopping with friends. It was nice to linger at my own pace, speaking to no one, and hover over displays I loved without worrying about dawdling or keeping someone else entertained.

When I went to Campy Mighty, Nicole and I later went shopping on the furniture strip in Palm Springs. We went into one store that had the most amazing candle burning. I would have bought one, but the store that carried them was closed on Sundays. I haven’t been able to find a candle I like as much since, though a part of me worries that the memory of this candle exceeds the reality. I was pretty excited about the Flora Exotica candle, above, with its alluring packaging of black and gold and floral, but no. It’s scent is primarily honeysuckle, a smell I loathe. And so the memory of the Palm Springs candle glows brightly. To my husband: the only way I could have been less subtle is if I had I printed out this post, wrapped it around an anvil, and dropped it on your head from a second story window. Mother’s Day is in May.

The takeaway from my window shopping, aside from honeysuckle and lilac remaining my least favorite scents, is that our home lacks vignetting. You walk into some of these stores, and you are pulled in by the most interesting displays. They unfold as if the store houses characters in a book. In this corner lives Ruth, who likes to read cookbooks in bed, prefers her hand soap to smell like rosemary, and collects crockery–always in cream. Magda is agnostic but adores religious folk art, Santos dolls, and lights a Saint Jude veladora before her weekend meditations because (1) it reminds her of her grandmother and (2) sometimes she feels her love life is a bit of a desperate case. Across the aisle stands Jane. She likes bright, pure colors (all of them), cooks semi-homemade, and throws the best parties because she never tries to make everything perfect.

It hit me, in that big store full of characters I would like to meet, that decorating is just another form of storytelling.