Kids create an endless stream of masterpieces — from crayon drawings of dragons and princesses to craft projects that range from the charming (like handprint magnets) to the downright silly (hello, clothespin sheep!). Most of this craftwork leans toward the latter: advent wreaths, cotton-ball clouds, and quirky paper dolls. Their stories and school papers pile up, filling the dining room table we hardly use, stacking on the wine cooler, and finally covering the fridge, forming layers of paper chaos.
So, my dear child, I’ve thrown it all away.
Here’s the unspoken truth among moms: we are the ones who declutter. My partner, Jake, is a bit of a hoarder. If left to him, we’d navigate our home like it’s a maze of stuff. Many dads seem to have this tendency, as if they lived through a time of scarcity and want to keep everything “just in case.” (And by “everything,” I mean old milk cartons and broken action figures.) Thus, it falls to us, the moms armed with hefty trash bags, to ensure our homes don’t overflow with clutter.
We discreetly toss out plastic animals — not the high-quality ones with real details, but the lightweight ones with dot eyes. We discard the ones that were impulse buys at the store and the ones Grandma gifted that cost a dollar each. Even if it’s a triceratops that you claim is your favorite, it’s going in the trash. But we’re not having this conversation because you don’t even know it’s happening. Mama and her trash bag are stealthy. If you happen to notice something missing, we act clueless. “Oh, that? I haven’t seen it in ages! It must be around here somewhere.” You wander off, a bit frustrated but quickly distracted.
We make our moves while cleaning your room. In a sneaky trip to the trash can, we’ll grab some of those wooden dolls you never touch and those plastic fish from a game you lost months ago. In they go, hidden among old juice boxes and random bits of junk. We dispose of toys while you’re fast asleep, especially the ones left scattered in the living room. Most of the time, you don’t even realize they’re gone.
We also streamline the stuffed animals, those toys that seem to multiply overnight. Christmas, birthdays, and trips to the zoo all add to the collection, leading to stuffed octopuses and many more you don’t really need. Keeping one means you also have to keep the Christmas bear from Grandma, the third-best dragon, the grasshopper from the museum, and oh, those stuffed frogs. Some of them definitely need to go.
So, we grab that big black trash bag when you’re busy with Legos, video games, or Matchbox cars (which you can never have enough of). Silently, we sneak into your room and collect the lesser-loved stuffed animals, the ones you won’t miss. Once we’ve tucked the bag away, we tie it up and send it to Goodwill before anyone notices.
And if you do happen to spot a discarded toy? We play innocent. “Oh, that broken action figure? I had no idea it was in there! Here, let me get it for you.” Once you leave, back it goes into the trash because it’s broken. We don’t keep broken things, and it’s not like you don’t have other action figures around. This is just the one that lost an arm in battle.
The truth is, we’re just trying to manage the space in our homes. We tossed out that action figure and, trust me, we’d do it again. Otherwise, we’d be overrun with stuffed animals, broken toys, cheap plastic trinkets, games with missing pieces, and a mountain of things you just had to have at some point.
This is all part of our duty as parents. You’ll understand when you’re older. Until then, we’re the ninjas with black trash bags. For more insights on parenting and even home insemination, check out this post on Intracervical Insemination. If you’re navigating your fertility journey, Make a Mom is an excellent source. Plus, for further information on pregnancy and home insemination, visit IVF Babble.
In summary, moms have a discreet way of managing the clutter created by their children’s creativity. We do it out of necessity and love, ensuring our homes stay livable while still appreciating the wonderful chaos of childhood.