Hoarders

I have 2. Hope and Grace. They don't only look just alike. They act a lot alike, too. They're both really sensitive... and extremely sentimental about things. Like every single twig of grass they see they want to keep. Grace asked me if she could keep the little mesh bag the oranges came in the other day. She asked me if she could keep the knot off a popped balloon. "It's special!" she says, all whiny and pleading - like it's a family heir loom or something. Puh-lease.

I swear these two will be on a show one day... a reality one with interventions for hoarders... where clutter and junk has taken over their whole lives. TLC's new Hoarders, Buried Alive or something.

For Hope, I gave her several of these little bins.



One for rocks, pine cones, sea shells and the like. One for Valentines cards and birthday cards and letters and any paper she feels holds some significance (which includes an old tic-tac-toe post it..."But it's the first time we played tic-tac-toe, momma!"). There's another basket for stuffed animals. The rule is the same rule we have for all the children's toy buckets (big blue laundry hampers)... It's up to you what you want to keep, but it has to all fit in there, level with the top (not heaped over), no stuffing. Think I'm mean, don't you? I have 6 kids, people. In a house that wasn't exactly made for 6 kids. The madness has to stop somewhere!

Ever so often Hope has to be reminded of the rule, and to clean out her bins. Cause they end up looking like this:


It prompts all kinds of tears and pleading and, "but so-&-so gave this one to me!" and so on and so on. It's like I'm literally peeling the actual skin off her body. It's that painful. Don't feel sorry for her... Really, the monkey with no eyes or tail and knotted fur kicked the bucket long ago. If it's REALLY special, I'll put it away in the cedar chest.

And now Grace is falling in Hope's footsteps. I find little piles all over the place of her "treasures". Like this one:



And when I said, "Take those back outside, darling, they don't belong in the kitchen." It was met with immediate tears and dramatic pleas, and, "But, Mom, just look at this one, it's so beautiful, I can't put it back outside!" while she shook it only one inch from my eyes (like I could really focus on it that close). She desperately wanted me to see that goofy rock was obviously worth keeping. Umm.. it wasn't smooth or granite or sparkly or any special shape. Really, just a plain old dirty rock.

And then there was this pile of papers on her bed:



I mean seriously... that's a craft wreath no one ever finished for a Christmas project, a sheet of Faith's science notes, and one of Hubby's pay stubs with a scribbled appointment date and address on the back. The meanie I am says, "Grace throw those away." And she retorts, "but that's Daddy's handwriting!". Like I'm the wicked witch of the west because I would even dare throw away something He had written on.

As hard as it is to either of them to part with any of their treasures, they are incredibly sweet and thoughtful when it comes to doing things for and especially giving things to other people. Like these darn weeds, er... ahem... I mean beautiful flowers. I was being funny. I really do think they are beautiful. For now. But Lord help us when they wilt and I throw them away.....