Meanest Mommy In. The. World.

Did you hear that last night? Did you? The wailing and crying and shouts of protest and the gnashing of teeth. Did you hear it? I swear that they had to be able to hear it at least down to Austin and up to Oklahoma City (Holli?).

That horrible noise was the sound of my boys protesting and wailing about the removal of all toys from their bedroom and into big, black garbage bags. Was it some sort of "ambush" where I snuck up on them playing peacefully in their tidy, organized room?

No.

This was the exact consequence that I explained to them two hours earlier when I sent them into their room to pick up the disaster that they had created over the past 48 hours. I gave them several time warnings. "You only have one hour left!" "Thirty minutes until I come and finish cleaning up!" "Fifteen minutes!" "FIVE MINUTES to clean up, you guys!" "Okay! I'll be in there in one minute!"

And yet, those ungrateful little urchins had the nerve to act surprised when I came in with the Hefty Bag and began depositing toys into it. "No Mommy!! We're picking up! See??!" Yes, I saw that they were picking up right then, but when I walked in they had a good game of Garbage Man going (a game strictly forbidden in this house for several months now) and were, quite honestly doing exactly the opposite of "picking up."

No Mommy! Not my garbage truck! PLEASE not my garbage truck!

MOOOOMMMMEEE!! Don't take my fire engine! I looooooovvveeee it!

But Mommy! I am soooo tired!

Oh! not my dolphin!

That's my astronaut helmet! I Lob it!

Nooooo! Not Superman! (Mommies are like kryptonite!)

That helmet is Daddy's! He's going to be angwy with you!

What are you going to do with them? Throw them in the garbage can? (Answer: No, I am giving them to children who don't have any toys and will appreciate them and take care of them.)

Is this something new? No. Is this the first time I have confiscated toys in big black hefty bags? No. The second? Third? No and no. This is the FIFTH time I have done this over the past few months. SO they know that when I say that I'm going to, I mean it. Just like with almost everything else I say. I DO (usually) manage to follow through with the consequences I announce.

They kept telling me that they want Daddy. I had to inform then that Daddy was behind this plan 100% and that he would be doing the same thing were he here. He'll be here in twelve days. Won't they be disappointed when I'm not reprimanded for my meanness! (You'd better back me up on this, mister.)

Have I actually gotten rid of any of those millions of toys that I have taken? No. Not yet. Do I have about eleventy thousand bags and boxes of confiscated toys in my garage and dining room? Yes. Yes I do. And I AM going to give the lion's share of them away to the local women's shelter. I plan to sort through and keep out the ones I know that they actually play with and give the rest away. Thing is? After a day or two, they don't even mention those toys any more. Which tells me that these children have entirely too many toys. They may just get cardboard boxes for Christmas this year. They enjoy those more than anything else.

So, if you live near Candyland and you need toys, come on over. I'll be sorting out the baby stuff for Buttercup, but the rest is up for grabs. Lots of Tonka trucks, stuffed animals, and firefighter stuff. In the words of Bill Cosby's wife "I! Have had! ENOUGH! OF! THIS!" On the upside, if they keep this up long enough, it won't take much at all to clean up their toys. Because you can't clean up something that you don't even possess!

PS If anyone gets the bright idea to come toward MY bedroom, hefty bag in hand? Just save yourself the energy. I'm all fired up for a good fight and probably won't hold back. I've got a good three weeks of pent up anger at many, many different people and events and if you shake that bottle, it's gonna blow. Besides I'm sooooo tiiiirrred!