It was a good night, which comes as a cap to a good weekend. I played hockey tonight, which is the norm for a Sunday, and then grabbed a couple of beers with some guys from the team afterward. The current edition of Black Team Hockey may not be the best hockey team we’ve ever put on the ice, but I’m getting a great team feeling already, and can only hope for where we’ll end up as we get used to each other and mature as team.
The hockey, of course, was only a small part of the weekend. The remainder was filled with the semi-chaotic transfer of the kids’ stuff from their bedrooms and the family room to our newly finished basement playroom. Sure, we’re not near done yet; there’s still a bunch of consolidation and organization to accomplish yet. By and large, though, most of the toys have been moved out of our primary living spaces. This makes me happy. In fact, it makes very happy. I am very pleased with our efforts to move everything downstairs because:
- It means I no longer have to force my older children to clean the daily mess made in their respective rooms by my 18 month old who simply enjoy chucking stuff onto the floor,
- odds are good that I will no longer need to wade through a room full of Little People strewn about my recliner, and
- the risk of breaking beloved play items or the embarrassingly tender skin on the bottom of my feet by stepping on a toy at three in the morning as I shuffle, bleary-eyed, off to bed is greatly diminished.
That’s not to say, of course, that the transition has been a simple one. My poor wife has been overwhelmed by the process the entire time, and for a brief time yesterday afternoon, I believe she was considering setting fire to the house rather than go though the ridiculous effort of clearing and organizing The Daughter’s room. It really wasn’t too difficult with the older boys, who share a room. Yes, they had more Matchbox/Hot Wheels cars than the factory puts out in a month, but having them pick out the most important ones of them was not a herculean task. They were, in fact, more than accommodating. Most everything else the boys possessed was relatively large, and didn’t require much contemplation. What resulted was not-overly-stressful process of paring down their stuff.
When it comes to the baby doll things, Barbie clothes, and assorted other stuff my daughter has though, the entire process was both excruciating and time consuming. She has thousands of tiny little doll baby accessories, minute Barbie shoes, sixteen purses, four pretend cell phones, a pink pretend iPod, a pink pretend Blackberry, and no fewer than six, count them six, Barbie tiaras. I’m not even going to discuss the dozens of hair bands we found, or the pretend hair bands intended for Office Clock-Watcher Barbie.
Somehow, though, we worked our way through it, and the stuff they wanted to keep now resides in their room; and there was definitely much rejoicing!