Grrr...

On any given day if you come through our house your feet will inevitably stumble across a tiny, teeny, piece belonging to my HS's creation or one of his multitude of little bitty toys. My type A personality just can't seem to wrap itself around these vicious little hidden pieces of joy hiding in the rugs and carpets. Try as we can to separate them so it's easier to find the certain one you want when HS is creating, putting them into labeled containers after the creating and playing is finished for the day is just not in his nature.

It has to be one of my greatest frustrations. OK...so it's probably minor to those who have jobs outside of the home, but for me, this is my job...24/7 and I don't think when I went to college I signed up for a Maid 101 course.

GRRRR..I say as I walk into HS's room to get the laundry...seems like all day I am on a mission to clean only to have it look like World War III is happening behind closed doors. All right, here we go again getting them into containers. Legos have a big plastic bin, transformers have their own bin, army men are hard to contain in their bin as HS always seems to have them on recon missions throughout the house.

Last Saturday, HS and I spent at least two hours with our heads hunched over trying to sort the Playmobil. We spent so much time that I think my neck is permanently in the down position. The poor knights didn't have hair for Pete's sake. Why on Earth would you rip hair off the top of the people? Weapons were strewn about so that even if a pretend battle was brewing against the knights and the vikings, no war could be fought because the weapons had decided to take a little pause to see how the building pieces "digs stack up to the belts that they are suppose to be on.

Friday afternoon rolled around and with loads of excitement and joy that it was a long weekend, HS declared it was time to have friends over to play with the castle. I'm sure I looked at him with an "oh, please....no!" look as I envisioned another couple of hours trying to search for pieces or the pain that would resound throughout my foot after stepping on a sword that when hidden in the carpet mirrors a rather sharp pinhead. Alas, what the heck. He's a little guy who wants to play with friends.

"Ok, darlin' after school you can have a great time with our friend....how about taking your bike for a spin?" I say a little to excidely.

"Nope...I think they'll like the castle now that we got it all set up, mommy." he says so proudly.

"Are you sure...look how blue the sky is...the birds are singing, outside is a great place to be...." I pause and look into the rearview...HS is looking distraught. I'm not listening. Type A mommy monster is emerging....time to send it back into the far reaches of my being.

"Well, how about some popcorn as you play with your friends...and your castle?"

Grrrr....my feet are not going to be thanking me, but one day when he is older, I am sure HS will look back on his childhood and know that I cared enough about him to put that aside. I spent the afternoon and into the early evening listening to the shouts of war, battle, and elation as the knights defeated the vikings...and they were winning...even without the proper hair and weapons attached to them.

A silent side plea to toy companies: could you please, please, please not make all the tiny pieces removable?