The Big Cleanup

The play room was a disaster, the family room a state of chaos. Fed up and alone, I grabbed a plastic bag, picked up toys I figured no one would miss, and tucked them in my closet.

Weeks passed, and no one asked about the toys that had gone AWOL. I tossed them in the trash. Soon, I got bolder and began collecting bigger toys, which I then took to the Salvation Army.

Getting rid of old toys has never been easy at our house. My girls love stuff. Early on, I had tried asking them to help me choose which ones to dispose of. But with the exception of a few broken Polly Pocket outfits and party favors, they didn't want to toss a thing. I tried posting some items on freecycle.org a couple times, but no one wanted 24-piece puzzles and the Lite-Brite I offered.

Garage sales didn't work either. The girls always brought the toys back in, then went shopping at the neighbors' garage sales and got more toys for free.

Then I started the stash-and-wait technique. Party favors. Fast food toys. Toys that were banished from regular play. All these items were potential objects that could be bagged up, stashed, and tossed. For a couple years, the system worked.

Then one day, I got caught.

"Where's Sarah?" Annie asked while she was looking at a photo album and spotted the doll.

Gulp. I didn't even know the doll had a name. Sarah was a small baby doll I'd found in the bottom of the toy box. I had waited almost two months to ship her off to the Salvation Army. Now, three weeks after the drop-off, Annie was looking at me with her big brown eyes and asking Sarah's whereabouts.

"I don't know," I lied, as an image of the Grinch came to mind. "We'll have to look around." Annie combed the playroom, then went upstairs to rifle through her closet. My heart was aching. "I can't find her, Mommy," she said sadly.

Wracked with guilt, I drove 15 miles to the Salvation Army the next day and perused the musty-smelling aisles in search of Sarah. I was fully prepared to buy her back, essentially paying money for my own junk. But in the end, Sarah was nowhere to be found.

Fortunately, Annie hasn't brought her up again. And I've gotten over the guilt by picturing Sarah in the arms of a loving little girl. But like garage sales and freecycle.org, my stash-and-wait strategy has been called into question.

Maybe I just need more storage boxes.

Editor's Update: Sarah's been found! A few weeks after Winnie sent us this story, she followed up with this email: "So I'm in my basement cleaning out some bags when lo and behold, that doll I told you about tumbles out of a bag! Baby Sarah is still here! I've put it on my daughter's chair. When she comes home, she is going to scream with joy. I guess I'm not the great organizer I wish I was."