It's simple...

Pottery Barn catalog....I love and hate receiving it equally. Somehow they have managed to capture my love for order and chaos, modernism and old country, class and livability....I love them. If I had the means, I would copy and paste the entire catalog into a floor plan for my dream home. However, as I blissfully close the final page of the catalog and refocus into the reality that is my current "decorating scheme" I am instantly depressed. There is not one corner of our home that doesn't have a child's toy hiding in it. My detest for movement and light-stimulated musical toys and puzzles is at an all time high. We have an animal sounds puzzle that bursts into "ribbits" and "bow wow's" every time we turn off the lights. I trip over blinking bears and giggling Elmos as I walk to the kids' rooms in the night to check on them. It becomes noon in the dead of night when I accidentally trigger the sing along karaoke machine....afterwards it's 15 minutes of incessant "bah-diddee-bop-bop-boo". Holly can relate with her possessed unicorn rocker that sets off galloping noises at unprovoked times. Truly, I can rarely walk through my own bedroom in the dark without getting a stone bruise from one of Jack's misplaced figurines. He is only minimally responsible because few of his gadgets actually have a designated home.

I tried the segregation of upstairs and downstairs toys, but shortly thereafter the animals from Noah's Ark formed a picket line protesting Mickey's Clubhouse's proximity to running water in the garden tub. I can't say I blame them, after all an Ark would feel most at home in the water. When I attempted the switch my inbox was blasted with hate mail from the Racin' Ramps Garage crew who insisted that they had been pulling double shifts working toward a promotion to the 2nd floor corner office of the playroom. Of course there is also the occasional and unintentional displacement of a toy that leads to shear panic and manhunts amongst the toy community that are neither necessary nor practical in our current economic state. Needless to say, the system was broken and we moved into the current method of every-toy-for-himself (or herself...my apologies to Minnie and bath sponge girl).

Somehow despite my loathing for multi-component toys, we seem to be accumulating them at a rapid rate. My first thought was that the little devils were multiplying on their own, but I was reminded of the 5-day debate John and I had over the octuplet's mother and I was convinced that no toy was brave enough to go toe-to-toe with John in his politically-charged rage. So...the question remained....what to do? Each time I sit down to sort through and eliminate toys, I am overwhelmed with the decision. I struggle with sentiment and practicality. I'd hate to just trash the infamous Bee Hat, but both of his wiggly eyes have been peeled off and sitting on my kitchen ledge for at least 4 weeks. I cant bring myself to pack up and give away the abandoned racetrack in the corner because someday, when James is old enough, the boys will LOVE to play with cars together. I despise the overwhelming flow of toys into our main living area where John and I sit peacefully and pleasantly discussing the downfall of our country, but can two children under the age of 2 be expected to play all alone upstairs?? AGHHHHH!!!! Now then....moving forward. I was sitting at the computer today trying to pay bills, and this is what happened...
Although there are no words necessary to describe what's going on here....that is my precious James turning his back on the toyroom to focus his full attention on a cardboard box and a USB cable. Confirmation received....it's toy donation time!!

Life application....it's the simple things that really make life worth living. I love that my husband will wash dishes and change diapers without being asked. I love that my sister-in-law will drive four-hours from Longview two or three weekends in a row because she knows I need help with my sick babies. I love that my mom and brother send me text messages and emails just to say that they love me. I love that Pop makes up silly songs to sing for my kids just like he did for me. I love that Holly makes me coffee on the mornings that we work because she knows that I would never get up early enough to make it for myself (nor would I EVER drink water that sat in a timed coffee maker...lol, j/k Bunch). I love that not one single thing that I just mentioned costs a dime, but they are all priceless to me. I equally love that the Lord would rather me sit in a quiet room and pray to Him, than to extravagantly proclaim Christianity like a cause rather than a relationship. I love that He was a carpenter and not an orator. I love that He came in a manger and not in a designer crib. I'm humbled that He went to the cross to sit on His throne. This is how I felt.