Ok so the big man in the red suit has been and gone and so have the turkey and trimmings, but this year I have a very different sort of hangover and a burning need to detox the house!
Father Christmas had, you see, brought with him a ridiculous array of presents (as if the children actually needed any more toys to play with). Last year my 6 year old was presented with her very own tablet and since then has barely let out a murmur, except to announce that she is hungry, thirsty or wants me to review her latest progress on Moshi Monsters.
The two year old, as all two year olds are, was so delighted by the array of boxes and crinkly wrapping paper that he stubbornly avoided all other toys, playing with boxes galore until well past his bedtime, pausing occasionally to have turkey and roast potatoes stuffed into his open maw, chased down by a handful of chocolate coins.
With bedrooms fit to burst and a living room full of more coloured plastic than I could shake a stick at, I had HAD ENOUGH. My daughter, whilst ‘loving’ only about 5% of her junk, will not let me part with the other 95% that she merely ‘likes’ at any cost. I have even put the idea of setting up her own ebay shop to her and met with nothing but resistance. Admittedly, I too couldn’t quite ‘bear’ to part with her cuddly toys (see what I did there?), but it really is approaching me or them!
So now, more than ever, I am hit with a storage problem. Do I make the downstairs look like an extension of the kid’s bedroom with enticingly coloured plastic tubs and trugs that glare at me through the corner of my eye when watching telly, or do I take a stand?
I am an adult, I tell you. I will make a stand! I really do not wish to be sat in something that resembles a nursery whilst sipping a glass of wine and cuddling my teddy at night.
So it was off to a friends for a good moan for me. And it was there that I saw it. The answer to all of my dreams.
My friend, being both artistic and house proud, had a lovely complicated arrangement of stacked driftwood boxes and candles that looked stunning.
The candles were, however, lost on me. All I could see was storage, affordable storage, and lots of it! What’s more there was not even the merest hint of plastic. It was all I could do to keep my hands to myself and not make a run for it then and there, armed with my prize. Instead I calmly enquired where she had got them from (not homemade as I had feared and suspected – hah!) but instead an on-line retailer dedicated to all things shabbily chic.
My coffee disappeared in an instant and misty eyed I thanked her for her hospitality and her wisdom and shot home where, peacefully and calmly I began writing my very own letter to Santa, surely he can squeeze in just one more delivery before the New Year?
About the author:
Nicola Wilson is a mommy blogger from the UK, she is currently working for East 2 Eden part time whilst running a family and looking after her children. Nicola has a huge interest in home design and decor.