Decluttering Kid Stuff

We went to see my husband’s identical twin brother and his wife and 3 kids recently. They live 4 hours away, so we make it a weekend and stay at a hotel with a pool so we don’t get all up in their space and intrude upon their lives with all our special needs and little kids.

After a tour of the gorgeous remodeling they’ve done, something hits me. It’s the ABSENCE of toys. Their house isn’t all junked up with toys. Even the kids’ rooms don’t have a million toys and stuffed animals in them. The basement has one of those multi-bin set-ups, but it’s not nearly as brimming over as ours is.

I think of all the time they and the kids must save in picking up toys and of all the creative things the kids do instead of digging through tons of toys. I mean, my kids are pretty imaginative and play outside a lot, but that just makes me notice even more how many of their toys are rarely touched.

Some toys I’m nostalgic about or worry they’ll miss if I get rid of them. But I have to suck it up and JUST DO IT anyway or the toys will take over the house. Sure, I have a bunch of little kids and we homeschool, which means we’re home all day, but that doesn’t mean we have to have SO MANY toys to pick up all the time.

And they DON’T get picked up all the time. I get lazy about it and just let their rooms turn into messy pits when if I got rid of a bunch of stuff, their rooms would be easier to pick up for them AND for their little friends who come over and help make messes.

The leather ottoman I got for the living room was genius. “Kids and Friends of My Kids, throw all the toys in the ottoman.” When it overflows, toys either go downstairs to the bin set-up or upstairs to their rooms. When THOSE overflow, it’s time for some purging.

Purging pre-birthdays and pre-Christmas is a good idea, also.

So when I pick up that Littlest Pet Shop igloo they never play with (it goes with the huskies), I need to get over the guilt or the nostalgia and just put it in a giveaway pile for some kid who may stumble upon it at a thrift store and freak out with excitement.

I have to work on teaching my kids about STUFF being only material, well, STUFF.

Michael Always Cracks Me Up

I kept promising Michael he could have a pet for his 6th birthday since Joel got a hamster for his. Michael had a grow-a-frog last summer, but it died pretty fast.

So we went to our favorite pet store in Belton, Missouri called Sherri’s Pet Emporium and purchased a Betta fish named Feeadore. Not THEA-dore. FEE-A-DORE.

The other day Michael told me he was hungry and goes, “What do I eat for hungry?”

Here is his phonetic sea creature picture. For those of you who don’t read the language of Michael, the top right one is a peanut butter and jelly fish. Jelly is spelled “J.E.” because that’s basically how Aron always jokingly says it. The one on the left is a SGWID.



I think we need to stop saying “roast beast” and “pizgetti.”

Glucose Tolerance Tests

Is there anything better when you’re pregnant than swigging 10 ounces of pure sugar so you can go get your blood taken in an hour?

When I was pregnant with Joel (#1), I had to do that. The result was borderline for gestational diabetes, so I had to go back. The 2nd time I had to fast overnight, then go get my blood taken, drink a mound of sugar in the morning, then have my blood taken every hour for a couple more hours. Man, the headache I got! I wanted some FOOD! My vision was all screwy because I was all sugared up and apparently borderline diabetic.

My result was very iffy (according to the nurses AND the insurance company), but still my ultra-careful doc put me on the diabetes track. I went to a dietician to learn how to eat like a diabetic. I learned how to take my blood 4 times a day. I went to non-stress tests twice a week. I only gained 24 pounds with that pregnancy, and Joel was only 7 pounds, 10 ounces. Oh, and I had THREE sonograms. I was an insurance company’s nightmare!

That was with Baby #1, when I had all the time in the world and taking time off work was a treat. Now if my result is borderline, forget all that other crap! I’ll just promise the doc I’ll eat well and we’ll call it good. And I WILL eat well because I don’t need to be squeezing a 12-pound baby out of myself.

Anybody have a fun diabetes or gestational diabetes or preeclampsia story out there? Come on, Cathy, I know YOU have a good story!