When my kids were young, it was so easy to keep their stuff in their own rooms or in the few large boxes in the living room. Several times a year, when they were at school, I would take the opportunity to go through their toys and clothes and throw out the broken or worn out and donate the not used anymore. If they happened to ask where such’n’such was, I just said it was there, they weren’t looking well enough. Good times.

Now that they’re in their twenties, yes I hint a lot to get out, they have literally spread themselves into every corner of this house.

There’s the old tire and rad in the garage from a car number one son doesn’t have anymore, but apparently might eventually need.

There’s the bread maker number two son brought home from grandma’s because he thought it would be neat to make his own bread. It has yet to be plugged in.

The school notes, books, old computers, game systems, games, VHS tapes, DVDs, CDs, guitars, drums, fitness equipment, camping equipment, I could go on but you get my drift.

It seems as they got older, their “toys” got bigger too and my useable, personal areas have now shrunken down to my bedroom and the attic space. I’m feeling very cramped!

They are finally talking about getting their own house. Apparently, my nagging about their crap is annoying them. And I thought they weren’t listening! I’m not holding my breath but even the thought of it makes me glow. Hey, I’m even willing to throw in a few bucks.

I remember when I moved out for the first time. I organized everything. A proper place for every item. My new home looked awesome! It took about a month to get it looking the way I wanted.

It was then that my mom showed up and began unloading box after box out of her car.

“What’s all that?” I asked her.

“It’s stuff you forgot to take.”

“Where am I supposed to put it all?”

“In your new place.”

Looking back now, I believe she was glowing.