I Hate Clutter.

Allow me to go on record---it is official---WE NEED A NEW HOUSE.

After five years, we have outgrown our 1,800, 3-bedroom square foot house.  It is simply amazing how a toddler can take up so much space.  Amazing.  With another on the way, um, what will become of our home.  I hate clutter.  Unfortunately, I come by it honestly since my mom has a Master's degree.  My mom has more "stuff" in my parent's home.  The garage is filled with material for her flower business, not to mention useless items she got a bargain on at various stores, like Hobby Lobby and of course Wal-Mart.  My gosh, have I become my mother?  I hate clutter.  

I don't put the blame solely on my shoulder however.  Back to the 3-year old---oh, and there is my wife...  It has come to the point where walking through the darkened household is like walking through a field of land mines.  Is it just me, or is one of the goals of a toddler to randomly place toys and objects throughout every area of a house?  Right now, I am sitting on a deluxe Tinkerbell tea set.  Sadly, it has become commonplace and the pain of a deluxe Tinkerbell tea set firmly pressed against my underside is just another part of living in clutter.  

The house has exploded.  Too much everything everywhere.  One of my resolutions for 2009 was to keep the house a bit more tidy by picking up something out of place with every exit of a room, returning said object to its appropriate whereabouts.  Easy enough.  Um, not so much.  Under my plan, I'd need to leave a room about 7,628 times to feel resolved.  Four months later, I have abandoned my resolution.  I'm done.  I am defeated.  The demons of this household are stronger than I.  I am only one man.  Alone.  Right now, just me and the tea cup I'm sitting on.

I am rambling now.  

Back to it - WE NEED A NEW HOUSE cuz I hate clutter.

Easter what?!?

This past weekend was Easter.  Real quick - just a quick something about it without getting all "religion on you" because I am not one to speak religion or politics:

As a child Easter, I am lucky my parents instilled within me and my sisters the true meaning of Easter.  It was not until I reached junior high when I discovered there was some backstory involving a human-sized bunny who delivered colored eggs and candy.  Don't get me wrong, we weren't completely out of the loop on egg hunts, Easter baskets and new threads for church.  We got all those cool Easter things.  However, there weren't any trips to the mall to sit on a bunny's lap, telling what color eggs we wanted, if that in fact is the protocol.  Nor did we wake Easter morning to discover presents from said Easter bunny.  Years later, hearing friends' childhood tales of the Easter bunny blew my mind.  Blew it!  "Easter bunny....presents....photo ops at the mall..."  Those tales of merriment made me think my sisters and I got a bum deal at home.  Were the parental units holding out on us?  Did dad simply not want to put on the Bunny costume and hop around the backyard planting eggs?

 

Nah.

Today, I am very thankful to my parents for establishing the true meaning of Easter for my sisters and I, even if it meant singing "Sister Mary she came runnin' and searching for her Lord..."; listening to my little sisters and youth Sunday schoolers deliver their Easter speeches; and spending a good part of our Easter Sundays sitting in church hour after hour.  (If you've been to a Black church, you fully understand this.)  

Yesterday, we did not do anything Easter bunny-ish with our daughter.  Right now she's probably hearing about the Easter bunny from her daycare friends.  Damn.  I'll bet she's really pissed.  Thirty years from now she'll thank me.  Until then, I'd better grab a gift or something on the way home from work and tell her it's something I found at the office that Santa must've left hidden until now.  Man, can I parent or what?