We’ve talked before about how “clutter costs you.” Like when I found that pile of uncashed checks in my home office worth $1463 and ended up on Oprah. Well not actually ON Oprah, she probably wouldn’t like that, and neither would Steadman. I mean on her show. True story.

But two nights ago I learned another valuable lesson about how costly clutter can be. 

Long story short: I broken my frickin’ toe when I tripped on one of Bucket Head’s toys in the middle of the night.

It’s not that great of a story, so I thought it might sound better as a song. Please click the link below to hear it:

Broken Toe

I’ve never embedded a song before, so please let me know if it doesn’t work. Alls I have to say is, watch your back Ke$ha, cuz my autotune skillz are badass.

I’m actually not even sure if my tootsie is broken… I’ve never had a broken toe before. But it sure does hurt like a mo-fo, especially at night. And it’s all bruised and swollen like a narsty fat cocktail wienie gone bad. Worst of all, it just looks SO out of place on my otherwise pretty feet. Poor, poor toe. And oh, the injustice! Couldn’t I have stubbed one of my ginormous manly fingers instead?

Sorry – but it’s just too hideous to show you the unedited shot. And to the sweet man who wrote in requesting more pics of my feet, please forgive me.

Anyhooooo, one good thing has come of this. Yesterday, Bucket Head, Mini-Me, my throbbing broken toe (“Drizella”), and I all worked together to clean the snark out of his cluttered bedroom.

Here’s what it looked like the morning after I tripped on one of his toys:

And from another angle:

Lord only knows what I tripped on! Yeeesh.

In his defense, the poor kid is only four and he’s having really bad night terrors: wakes up screaming every night. Maybe I shouldn’t have let him watch all those Friday the Thirteenth movies. I don’t know. But anyway, every night at bedtime, if he doesn’t sneak downstairs and curl up on my lap on the couch, he avoids going to sleep by playing in his room until he basically just collapses on his bedroom floor. We end up moving him into his bed when he’s sound asleep and usually just scoot the toys out of the way.

Letting him keep all those toys in his room was my lazy-ass way of not dealing with his sleep problems. It was just easier for me to let him play than to put the hammer down. Bad Mommy.

And I guess I was too tired or drunk or lazy to clear a good path that night like I usually do. Serves me right. Dammit.

But stubbing my toe on one of his toys is just the wake up call I needed. It’s time to teach this kid how to be a better sleeper. And the first step is eliminating the clutter from his room.

The sleep issue is huge – and too much to include in this post. We’ll save that for another day, because I have a lot to say about it.

But for now, all you need to know is that we have a new rule: the only extra things allowed in Bucket Head’s bedroom are stuffed animals, books, and his baby doll stuff. Yes, Bucket Head has a baby doll. His name is Zeke. Shut the fuck up. We’ll have to discuss that separately too.

Ready for some after pics? Don’t judge my shitty decorating. He’s my third and final kid. He gets nothing.

I think I’m most excited about the two baskets on the bottom shelf for all the paperback books. I already had those baskets elsewhere in the house, so I didn’t have to spend anything. They fit perfectly and it will be so much easier for Bucket Head to flip though them for what he wants. Here’s how I was storing those paperbacks before:

It was a mess.

Here is the updated system:

 We carried all the extra toys down to the basement play room, where they belong. And starting tonight, SLEEP BOOT CAMP… if I can stay awake for it once the painkillers for my toe kick in.

Humbly and gingerly, but with gratitude for the KICK I needed to stay on my organizing journey,


© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.