The hour is early, the moon still hangs luminously on its perch in the blueing sky. My body aches from the cleaning regime I pandered to yesterday.
How the maintenance sticks close to me. The toys, the guck that was stuck vehemently on the wall; that of which its origin I could not decipher. The ground in food on the carpet, but mostly, mostly the toys…Oh how I rue those toys, and the fact they have taken over any once of sanity I may have had left.
The contamination began long ago, from a time when breastfeeding and swaddling were the biggest concerns on my ‘to-do’ list. How could I have known that they would take hold, and from that point on my life would succumb to these scheming playthings?
I could not have known, because that is how they get you…They make their way in, never letting on of their plans to take over; their plans to surmount the place in which you live.
Today I write with quick thoughts and rapid words, as even now in this time when the morning sun meets the fading moon, they are coming. Soon they will surround me, just waiting…Waiting. Waiting.
And as they infiltrate my manicured home, they mock me with their eager stare. Their spiels although different every day, are always contemptuous always boorish. Today they tell me in their indiscreet technique,
‘We’ve won Lindsay, we have won. Never again will you know the delight of clutter-free floors. We have your children trained better than you, to bring us to your place of solitude. We are the disrupters of spotlessness and oh how we have dominated this home!’
They have allied with the children and I feel as though I’ve lost a battle that I truly never stood a chance at. My worst fears now come to head as I fear their knowledge is rapidly increasing and soon they will realize it is only a matter of time until the children find their leaving these play toys sprawled around habitual. Never to clean up after themselves again.
The thought terrifies me. I try to think back upon the beginning of this infection, the beginning of the end. No memory comes. Have the toys wiped my memory of those first pivotal moments in which my parenting failed?
I pray the answer is no, because now, at this time my thoughts are the only thing I have left…The only thing I can cling too in these times of upheaval.
I need sanctuary…”SANTCUARY!”
I stealthily move towards the outside area of my home. There I can enjoy the beauty of nature and release the unease of this disparaging place of muddle. There I can enjoy my gardens, there I can breathe in the beauty of fresh air, the wholeness of space without those toys…Those damn toys…
They, like always are one step ahead of me. It is like they knew, they knew I yearned for asylum and now have taken the last place I could take refuge.
I admit defeat.
Soon they will have bombarded my life in such a way I lay unmoving on the floor, surrounded by my adversaries. They will cover me in their scornful approach, whilst laughing inaudibly at my will-less way.
Today is the end me for my friends, but for any of you parents who have yet to feel the wrath of these devious toys, please heed my words;
Take hold of your home before they do, do not let then destroy your place of rest. They move quickly, without warning and will occupy without a moment’s notice. Know the signs, and feel their presents and with some luck you will be able to stop this dreadful infliction, before it has begun.
And for all of you whom have already been taken by the toys, know this…You are not alone. And one day, with strident hope, we will take back what is rightfully ours.