At 3 pm this afternoon Shortcake and I officially welcomed the start of SPRING BREAK, BABY! And for what it's worth, I've been shouting that phrase at every opportunity since walking through the school doors a la Joey from Friends before, during, and after the trip to LONDON, BABY!
In addition to what I hope are some fun family friendly adventures, I have a long list of goals I'd like to accomplish prior to returning to work in a little over a week. Lately it seems as though the cleanliness of our house is on par with that of a frat house, and frankly I've been too preoccupied (read: lazy) to do anything about it other than a quick decluttering and swift, half-hearted wipe-down. It's gettin' pretty groddy up in here is what I'm trying to say.
As I've done in the past, I'm ambitiously hoping to accomplish a cleaning of epic proportions. We're talking ceilings to baseboards, Lysol wipe wielding, furniture moving, closet reorganizing, keep-toss-donate pile making mayhem. I was feeling particularly motivated tonight around 5 pm so I started to get an early start on the process while the mood was right because (if I'm being honest here) I'm not sure I'm going to have the steam to carry me through. The one thing I have going for me - if tonight is any indication - is that I have two eager and willing helpers added to my cleaning brigade. Well, maybe I should rephrase that. I have one very eager and willing helper and one who is willing and eager to clean but also so emotionally attached to objects others would deem garbage that the process grinds to a considerably slower pace.
We kicked off the festivities in Punkin's room, the one room in the house more than any other where you're just not sure what you might find hidden behind its door. Almost instantly it became painfully obvious that I'm living with my maternal grandmother's soulmate. "Treasures" that Punkin and I had to negotiate parting with include: several scraps of paper no larger than a quarter, multiple Happy Meal toys that have not been played with since they took up residence in the bottom of the dress-up basket six months ago, an empty gift bag from Valentine's Day, six dried out markers, and a tiny piece broken off of a foam flower that she deemed "beautiful". I also asked her to whittle down her stuffed animal menagerie from ten to six and her bag collection from fifteen to six (we settled on seven because her negotiating skills were particularly impressive during this portion of the event). We also had to find a home for no less than thirty bracelets (no, I'm not exaggerating), six tubes of lip balm, multiple rings, and two chocolate candies that were hidden somewhere in her room, again, since Valentine's Day.
I've suspected for some time that Punkin has inherited the pack rat DNA that runs deep in my family, but never before did I know just how much she channels her great-grandma until the moment she knew that in the disorganized mess of her room she was missing one sheet of stickers. I promptly pulled out the stickers to show her that they were still safe (knowing full well that I had covertly thrown another one into the garbage bin moments earlier), but she was adamant that there was another sheet missing and would not rest until I produced that exact sheet. Sound familiar to a certain recipe debacle, mom?
If I ever walk into her room and the floor is littered with egg cartons filled with an assortment of plastic beads, that is where I will draw the line.