Toy Theory, part 2

So what am I supposed to do about toys?

Short answer: I don't know.

Honestly, I wish I could reduce down to like a Waldorf level of a few building blocks and some Waldorf dolls. Waldorf dolls are simple enough they could be baby dolls or older (and not sexualized. Don't get me started on Barbies) and I could make all sorts of clothes for them, or turn them into fairies or mermaids or whatever.

Completely a tangent, I found a website on making a Waldorf doll: https://www.newlifeonahomestead.com/how-to-make-a-waldorf-doll/ Admittedly, I am intimidated. My mom, of course, says, "We can do it!" I'm not sure she actually looked at the site, she just always thinks that until proven wrong.

Anyhow.

A friend at church, I asked her the style of toy management she used and she said "my own." Apparently, she rotates toys out and keeps boxes of them in the garage. I do have plenty of storage space in my basement, so I could do something like this.

And I have.

I don't quite have it in me to get rid of everything that isn't Waldorf. So many stuffed animals, some Beanie Babies from my own childhood. Others are gifted the girls, so even if I had started strong, I'd still have a "what do I do with these two beloved stuffed dogs?" moment.

So I made several boxes and I'm going to rotate them. Every week. Or kind of. Until I just throw it all out, I guess. It's a good option because it allows me to put in the stuff I had in the basement that wasn't loved enough to be upstairs, but was interesting/loved enough to not throw away. It keeps stuff fresh. It keeps the toy level manageable.

Several things are staples, and I don't rotate them, like the three Ikea mice, Rose's Ty stuffed dragons, the girls' homemade dragons plushies, small plastic animals, and some odds and ends that don't really have a place. Baby toys. Musical instruments.

Caveat: There are often conversations where Rose says, "Where's [random toy]?" and I have to be like, "It's in a box. It'll come back eventually." Which is apparently not a satisfying answer.

I themed them. I didn't start with that idea, but sometimes the groups just work together.

Box 1: Dragons

Box 2: Safari

Box 3: Farm

Box 4: Small nature things (think flowers, fairies, mice, reptiles)

Box 5: Woodland

Each box (almost) has a set of plastic animals, a "house" of a sorts (mouse house, tree house, barn, etc), some stuffed animals, a building toy (blocks, connecting flowers, peg board, etc), and a puzzle. That way if they get it all out, it's not ALL the puzzles getting mixed up.

I haven't been fantastic at switching them, but it's not a bad system.

I need more tubs.

Also, don't ask about the basement. What happens in the basement stays in the basement.

Toy Theory, part 1

 Ah toys.

So basically I have a 5-year-old, a 3-year-old, and a 1-year-old. All girls.

They have a lot of toys.

Part of me is a softie, like, "I had this when I was little and I loved it!" or "I didn't have this when I was little and they need it!"

Then on birthdays and Christmas people keep giving them toys, which is nice, but how many cheap babydolls with cheap accessories do they need? A fake makeup kit? Second hand games? 10+ stuffed dragons? (Ok, Rose actually loves all of them).

Age three and up we're trying to teach them the value of money, so they can do simple jobs for a dollar, which they can then save for buying something. More things. (Do I encourage a consumable, like candy? Ah, food rewards and nutrition, another issue).

And then building toys, like LEGOs (which are heirlooms, as far as the husband and I are concerned), blocks, magnatiles, rods and joints, etc get scattered over the house, causing far more mess than warranted for a single category. Puzzles are almost worse because if you lose one piece, it's unsolvable, and the cardboard pieces are not up to Joy's chewing.

So many stuffed animals. And all these cheap tiny plastic ones. And the random things that get played with, but aren't particularly their own thing. Like plastic dragon eggs, grocery store boxes used for houses and building, car seat straps that have become dog leashes, whatever.

I can't consign stuffed animals. So they've kind of piled up.

For a while I had all their favorite stuff in the boxes upstairs (and it was getting crowded) and a bunch of things I liked but they had basically forgotten in a box in the basement. Rose seemed to think of it was a mythical present storage wherin untold delights lay hidden, and occasionally asked, "Can I have something from the basement?" Then she would peruse the whole box and select more than allowed but I never had the heart to force the rule.

There are other toy theories. I haven't studied.

I believe Waldorf/Montessori aficionados focus on open ended toys, dolls with really simple faces or none at all, simple stuff. Definitely nothing with batteries. As in, not many toys. I believe studies show that when there are a lot of toys, kids play with each one less amount of time, but when there are only a few toys, kids spend more time with each. So having a ton of toys can actually discourage play. Having toys with "bells and whistles" often limits the amount of use the toy gets. Like if it has buttons that make noises, often that's all it's used for, when open ended toys, like blocks, can be shapes, can be lined up, can be built into buildings, sorted by color, dumped in a bucket as "soup," etc.

Another theory is even more simplistic. Forget toys, use found objects. Like seriously, does the baby like playing with the baby toys more, or ransacking the kitchen cupboards? Give them wooden spoons, bowls, balls, whatever (that's baby safe).

Here's a picture my cousin sent of her Janet Lansbury Independent Play for two year olds:

Which is a fair point. Joy is almost one and she ransacks each kitchen cupboard she can reach almost daily.

So what's a girl to do?

Middle of nowhere, Kansas Style

 My grandparents live in the middle-of-nowhere Kansas, near some towns nobody has ever heard of. You can tell you're in Kansas when you see fences made out of sticks instead of fence posts. Also, there's not a lot of point in actually farming in Kansas. The land isn't good for much more than pasture.

My grandparents used to raise cattle for beef, but are getting up in years, so now just rent out the pasture and still live in their little farm house that may-or-may-not have mold in the walls that makes Grandma's ear have fluid in it. In case you were curious. Grandpa still likes to putz around, riding the four wheeler to find asparagus, building little inventive boxes in his workshop. He's the kind of person that HAS to have work and never wants to be put out to pasture.

So we finally took our vacation. I haven't been there since I was pregnant with the first one because it's a good seven hour trip (if you factor in a lunch stop and gas), and I have zero desire to do a seven hour trip with a baby. But since Matthew was out of work, we finally said, "Let's do it." Even though Joy is definitely still a baby.

Joy actually did great. They all did. And we finally made it out to middle-of-nowhere acreage.

Which got us thinking: Look at this great acreage. My grandparents need help. My Mom talks about moving them to our town to take care of. My uncle comes down every Saturday to help them. Couldn't maybe we live out here?

The short and practical answer is No. We could not. But how could it work?

Matthew would need to get a job that is entirely remote. Or maybe mostly remote and one day a week or something in Kansas City, three hours away? We'd be really far away from our normal family. But oh, my grandparents would love it.

They could stay in their house, probably. We could build a new one somewhere on the lot. Or take over the other house that used to be my great grandparents' down by the creek. Scratch that, we'd just replace it or something. I married an architect and that means a custom house, somewhere. I could help my grandparents. They could love their great-grandchildren. We could grow a big garden. Raise some beef. Have a farm dog. The children could roam over the land, fish in the ponds, explore the creek. I could find wild asparagus.

Matthew and I had a few fun dreams of the sort, as we romped around the farm. Unfortunately, reality. It would be highly unlikely Matthew's new job would accommodate this. We are seriously near nothing. They have been invaded by wind turbines constantly making a noise similar to a plane flying in the distance. And let's not forget that Kansas has ticks, chiggers, and several species of venomous snakes.

 Mom, is that snake venomous?

Eh, it's not going to work out. But what a fun acreage idea!