KirKath Method, Step Three: Kids, or WHERE IT ALL GOES WRONG

So. Back at it after a vacation. Which I’ll talk about later. Maybe. It was hot. And wet. And awesome. And that sounded dirtier than I wanted it to.

Anyway. Right after I finished the master bedroom and the bathroom, I did my desk, which I didn’t write about, but was super easy because I was in the mode by the point and YOU JUST THROW AWAY ALL THE THINGS AND IT’S AMAZING AND LIBERATING!

(I’m pretty sure I don’t have house insurance anymore. But my life is so light now!)

KonMari has trouble with getting rid of papers. I say she’s weak. And also Japanese people must have way different attachment to papers  because at this point I was tossing anything that didn’t immediately make me want to rub it all over my body (family members included.) I had no such trouble. Not even meriting its own post.

So then I decided to move on to Step 3: The Kids’ Rooms.

Dun dun dun.

Alternatively titled, Is Not Sparking Joy A Plausible Defense for Child Abandonment? Asking for a friend.

(I’M KIDDING. I love my children. I’m just saying, I was in the zone.)

I did Buddy’s room first. It was relatively easy because he has next to no belongings up there since a.) I went crazy when he was born and never bought anything after that initial flush of baby stuff and b.) he is too little to accumulate anything except viruses on his own.

I went through his dresser, put away the things that didn’t fit anymore, created an appropriate box int he closet for clothes he’s growing into (thank you Kidscycle!), and culled his stuffed animals and books. Easy peasy. I was considering doing clinics for other poor hapless souls who were obviously not as organized as me.

Then I got to Squeaks’ room.

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Oh. Oh my.

She has the smallest room in the house. (No, not like Cinderella. Because she picked it.) But it held the most unbelievable amount of crap. So so so so much. I didn’t know where to start.

KonMari was NO help. The only thing she writes about kids is that htey should be a part of it to which my response is, HEY MARIE HAVE YOU EVER MET A LITTLE GIRL?

Maybe it’s just mine. But she’s 6. And a hoarder. And every piece of paper she has ever touched might have the code to the lost city of atlantis on it so we probably shouldn’t get rid of it and also I love it, mommy WHY WOULD YOU THROW THAT AWAY WAAAAHHHH.

So. Yeah.  No. She was not going to be involved. Mommy was gonna handle this quickly and painlessly and humanely and put the room out of its misery.

(That got dark. Sorry.)

It was not easy going. But once I hit my stride, I developed a fool proof plan to KonMari’ing your kids rooms in America where we all have too much stuff and carbs.

Step 1: Put kid downstairs with father and a loud video game.

Step 2: Throw away all the things.

Step 3. Hide bags in your bedroom with the door closed until after bedtime.

Step 4: Smuggle them out of the house like you’re not the adult in the situation.

Step 5: Enjoy a glass of wine and only contemplate the psychological damage you did to your kid a little bit because really? Is this even going to make the list when she’s seeing her own therapsit one day? Probably not.

Call me when you’re up through 2011. Then I’ll worry.

Unlike Buddy’s room, I did employ most of KonMari’s methods, like the folding and organization. I folded her things “correctly” and put all of her bags and stuff in other bags, etc. Overall I treated it like an adult bedroom.

I’m happy to say it’s been a month and while I have to go in most days and teach her how to refold stuff, it’s still completely clean. I know. It’s like this shit works or something.

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(And also? For my mom out there who is probably crying because she’s convinced I threw away super special stuff that my daughter loves because it doesn’t fit with my new aesthetic? She has yet to ask for one single thing that I took out of there. Not. One. Thing.)

Ahhh.

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