I was appalled yesterday.
After playing for an hour with Play-Doh, my boys had had their fun and were so over Play-Doh they couldn’t even bear to clean it up. I asked nicely first, saying that it would be unwise to just move to the next activity or else their Play-Doh would dry out and be useless. This advice garnered frowns. They got distracted paying more attention to each other than me.
Next, I tried to appeal to their desires. “You aren’t allowed to play with your other toys until you take care of the ones you have out.” This elicited no more action than my previous request. It did however spur whines, little man voices bemoaning my dictator ways.
Finally, at my wits end, I pulled out the #1 Parent Card…a threat. “Would you rather put your Play-Doh away or would you like me to throw it away?”
They look at each other like I’d thought of a great idea. I’m elated. Finally, we can move on.
“You can throw it away, Mom.”
Like I said, I was appalled. I was horrified that I had raised such ungrateful and spoiled children. I was embarrassed for them and angry at them.
But then…
I thought of myself. I thought of how often I’d rather purge my home of things than have discipline not to bring it into the house to begin with. I don’t want to deny myself the retail therapy, so I’ll take an extra trip to Goodwill with other (older) offensive extra “clutter”. This “clutter” is actually made up of useful (if not superfluous) items, nice things. Their only offense is that I have so much stuff that I cannot appreciate it. I cannot bear to take care of it all, and I become bored and want to move on to the next bright and shiny thing.
I see the tendencies of the middle class suburban life we lead. I see the stuff. I see the birthdays and the Christmases and the every third trip to Target. I see the burden of the things. All of the things. I see the burden in my own life, and I hate that burden.
There is a burden to care for all of our things. The care takes time. The upkeep takes motivation. It is all a lot of work.
What if I reduced our load and then girded myself with discipline and a new heart for less? What if I lightened up our home and our lives, and didn’t immediately see it as license to refill?
Do you see yourself in this story? Do you see these tendencies in your own children? What do you think we can do?