The day I reclaimed my favorite room in the house

Once upon a time, there was a girl who dreamed of having a sunroom. In her dream the room had a comfy reading chair and an assortment of plants growing year round. It was lined with tall windows and bathed in warm afternoon sunlight. Not too long ago this girl's dream came true.

But, it was winter. And I caved. The room is fairly spacious (16'x20') so I figured I could share. More and more and more of the girls' toys and playthings migrated into the sunroom. Kitchen set, train set, legos, coloring books, puzzles, dolls and doll clothes, dress-up clothes and accessories, books and books and books. And then it happened. My beloved sunroom had become "The Playroom."

I swear, this was not (consciously) premeditated, but yesterday I reclaimed my favorite room in the house.

CoCo was extra whiney in the morning and thankfully fell asleep in the bikestroller during a bikeride. But, when she woke and realized she slept through our usual stop at a playground she threw a screaming fit. (We had to get back in time for Jo's bus.) When Jo came home from school, things only got worse. Both girls rejected my repeated calls for lunchtime ("I'm not hungry yet") and refused to share the coveted toy/crayon/princess Ariel dress.

I was tired of begging and playing sibling referee, so I ate lunch solo, caught up on a few loads of laundry and decided it was due time to clean the bathrooms. I armed myself with cleaning supplies and got to it. As I'm elbow deep in the bathtub (and I despise scrubbing the tub), I hear giggling and water running.

I find the girls in the kitchen with the faucet on. They dragged a kitchen chair up to the kitchen sink and are filling bowls of water. There's a trail (pools) of water thru the kitchen to the sunroom. Jo can read the annoyance on my face, looks down at her feet to whimper, "We're playing kitty cat and the kitties are thirsty."

I turn off the faucet and give the girls old towels to mop up the floor. I figure its only water (could be worse) and they can handle cleaning it up. I return to finish cleaning the bathrooms. When I emerge fresh from toilet brush duty six minutes later I find the girls in the sunroom.

CoCo is slapping around a soaking wet towel. Jo is shrieking, "Stop splashing me!" And the worse part is this: Not only is there somehow boatloads MORE water all over, I can scarcely see the green tile floor because a tornado known as my children has pulled out every single toy and trinket and thinga-ma-bob and has strewn it all across the sunroom.

I lost it. I sent them directly to their room - kicking and screaming.
Then I picked up and packed up ALL THE TOYS and shipped them to Siberia.

Well not quite Siberia, but almost. I stashed them in the bonus room, which has recently become "Dad's Private Painting Studio" - meaning no children allowed.

Jo ended up falling asleep in her room during her timeout and slept straight on thru until this morning. During breakfast Jo says, "Mom, we were just packing everything to go to Africa."

Today the sun came out and it was oh-so-WARM! Eighty-seven degrees warm! CoCo and I went to the local greenhouse this morning to pick up tomato plants and a flat of impatients.

When Jo came home, the three of us planted the flowers and put the tomato plants in pots for the back patio. CoCo pulled out the soccer ball and started kicking it around the back yard. Jo found the sprinkler and asked to put her swimsuit on. The girls pretended they were showering. CoCo kept calling for shampoo and mock-washing her face. They spread their towels on the grass and laid down in the sun to dry. The neighbors came over and they all cut thru our backyard to play at the park.

And that's when I realized. All those toys I stashed away might not be missed. That is, as long as the weather holds out.