I'm getting a grip on the clutter that has taken over our house. Slowly, surely, I am ridding us of every last bit of paper, every useless magazine, every under-used, unnecessary item in this house.
Not because I'm super-organized. But only because I am super-motivated. Must get the house on the market; must get top dollar. Think Design to Sell; I'm not having the crew over to help me, but I am going to get the place in order.
Today was spent sorting out the massive Bratz/Barbies collection. It's been in the works since 1995, and most of those dolls look a little haggard. It should be noted that I am not a big Barbie fan (what proper feminist is?), but when your 4-year-old looks up at you and wants only Barbie Butterfly Princess from Santa, what can you do? Since that initial foray into the world of Barbie, we have accumulated roughly 75 of those little darlings, along with countless outfits and accessories, including a Beach House and two convertibles.
Then add in the Bratz, Barbie's sleazier counterpart in toyland, and it all equals quite a stash. The girls and sorted and dressed all the dolls; now all we have to do is find a home for them.
There's a certain wistfulness I feel as I sort through these cast-off toys. If you're a parent, you know just what I mean: Every toy that gets tossed - not matter how ready you are to reclaim the sanity and tidiness of your life - is a not-so-subtle reminder that your children are growing up. Gone are the little girls who used to spend hours on end dressing and re-dressing dolls; taking their place are young women who crave iTunes gift cards and hair straighteners from Santa Claus. You know this day is coming, and while I'm secretly glad to not pick up Barbie shoes from the floor, the feeling is bittersweet.
(Besides, the mess in the playroom has been traded for the mess in the bathroom, along with the tangle of clothes on the bedroom floor. Clean, dirty - who can tell?)
The time spent was fun in its way, as many of the Barbies recalled long-forgotten moments - the day Maddie got a black eye at Legoland (the first aid workers gave her two little dolls, which we ran across today); Alison's love of Mulan; the name on the bottom of one Prince Eric doll (Alison got angry when Maddie was playing with it and marked it for posterity); uncovering Sylvia's favorite Barbie, which the dog found and used as a chew toy ... which explains why we have two of that particular doll.
Chapters end every day; the girls change and grow, as do I. My changes are slower, less obvious, but theirs are right there, staring me in the face, as they don't bat an eyelash over items that were once so precious making their way out the door. My consolation? That over time, I'll rewrite these events in my mind. Gone will be the unpleasant parts, replaced with only the highlights of childhood gone by. Those I will forever treasure, especially as I share them with my daughters. A lifetime of memories - many of them wrestled from the back of our minds as we sorted old dolls. Barbie served her purpose - now she can go, knowing her time here has passed.
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2 comments:
I still have my Barbies, along with all their clothes and the ultra-hip inflatable furniture from the '70s. I loved playing with them as a kid which is probably why I never could get rid of them. It's funny to look at all the circa 1970 clothes I have for them - much more modest than many of the styles I see today. I also still have a huge shoe collection for Barbie. Oddly enough, many of the styles look current.
Today, my nieces beg to play with them. It's funny how these plastic dolls survived my sister and I only to break when Lydia wanted to dress one. She was upset, but I told her everything was fine. After all, that's what these dolls are for - play. It's not like I saved them to sell on eBay or anything!
I am surprised to hear you allowed your girls to play with Bratz dolls! Eek! They are so awful. Still, I'm sure we had toys our parents didn't understand or like. I remember having a Barbie-type doll that tanned when you set her in the sun. Weird.
The thought of actually saving all that stuff for my kids, for posterity, makes my skin crawl - I cannot stand tons of useless clutter in my life. I kept my McDonald's trash can bank (circa 1974) because I can display it in my office. But I cannot have all sorts of stuff packed away - use it or lose it, that's my motto.
And I used to think I was a pack rat.
Yea, Bratz are the worst. But that's the thing about kids - they wear you down. At some point you're thinking, so what's wrong with a few slutty dolls? At least they're quiet. Just hope it doesn't escalate - sure, sure, they're smoking pot. But they're home, right?
Some days, I wonder just what I have gotten myself into. Sigh.
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