Last week was such a blur. So much going on at work. The funeral. Just a long and emotional week.

So on Saturday I was looking for something mindless to occupy my time and spent the better part of the morning sorting trains, cars, dinosaurs, legos, pirates, ninja turtles, and puzzles. It was The Great Playroom Cleanup.

I wish I had a “before” picture, to truly appreciate the end result. Let’s just say I couldn’t walk on the floor. Literally…
I stepped on a pirate with a sword that stuck to my foot. It didn’t draw blood (well that would have been a better story) but I can tell you I had the imprint of Captain Hook on my foot all day.

You see, S. and I differ on the use of the playroom. He says that it is a kid zone, meaning, it can be messy 24/7 with some minor cleanup now and then.

I am a bit more radical with my thoughts… in that, a playroom should be clean overall (how can you play when you have no room to walk?) and organized. Take a bin out, put it back. Anything David plays with for the day has to go back to its home at the end of the day. With the exception of the trains, that can stay out since I’ve spent an hour building the track. Because only Mommy has the spacial skills to build a track, and it’s far too taxing on my brain to have to do it over and over.

Anyway… I am thinking of labeling the bins (not that David can read them yet) to complete the room. Overkill? Perhaps.

The one thing I’ve learned though the last three years of infertility is I must maintain order where I can. It balances out the fact that I have no freaking control over my body and the little control I have restores my blissful balance.

So, the playroom is my control point.

Now if only I could apply that to the family room…