somewhere over the laundry pile Hoarders By Amy Pence-Brown


popular reality television show Hoarders, where expert organizers come into people’s homes and help them unclutter their lives. Many of those featured on the series need a lot more help than just cleaning up their messes; they some- times need some serious intervention and aid in overcoming their need to collect and store everything they find. Lately, I think my house resembles some of those homes I ogle


B


on Hoarders. To put it bluntly, there is stuff everywhere—and loads of it. I cringe every time there is an unexpected knock at the door, as my house is never prepared for surprise guests. We live in a small 1950s ranch house on the Boise Bench, and every room is well-used and well-loved in our house, including the living room—where the front door is. Unfortunately, that means that my neighbor/mailman/grandma


gets to see the natural state of things around these parts. And that state of things often includes odd objects in even odder locations, like Hello Kitty panties in the kitchen and a stale, half-eaten bagel stashed next to the lamp. Every room seems to be busting at the seams with returned homework papers, piano lesson books, pillows, toy cars, baby doll dresses, and dirty dishes. And while this may seem normal to other young parents, what feels abnormal to me is that all these items can be found in nontraditional locations. For example, instead of empty juice boxes filling my kitchen countertops, I’ll find them in the guest bathroom tub. Or I’ll discover my toddler’s gold sparkly slippers tucked into the pantry, on the shelf next to the cans of black beans and jars of peanut butter. All young parents struggle with messy houses, I know. I’ve tried


to just let go, and some days I can. But most days I just can’t. I fear I’m raising hoarders. My girls not only collect masses of unusual objects, but they


stash them in secret locations so as to not be found out. I recently found nearly fifty business cards from my Rolodex file hidden away in a pink backpack in the closet of the girls’ playroom. All of my bracelets went missing, only to be discovered much later in a holiday cookie tin in the toy box. And it’s not just my possessions that my


54 TREASURE VALLEY FAMILY MAGAZINE | March 2012


y now, you’ve certainly seen (or at least heard of) the


daughters like to covet and store. They are quite adept at collecting and saving things of their own, like old credit card receipts and junk mail postcards. We’ve got fancy jeweled little


girls’ purses galore, all bursting at the seams with broken fast food restaurant toys, rocks of various sizes, dried leaves, and used candy wrappers. And when I discover these “treasures” and try to dispose of them, my little hoarders freak out. There are tears and tantrums about how much they love that rock and cannot go on without their plastic (whatever). So, much like the experts on the TV series, I try to talk rationally to my girls, explaining how it’s just stuff—and stuff that they didn’t even remember was there until I showed them. How we can give away or get rid of toys and items we don’t really need or use, and keep the nicer and better toys. All sorts of rational explana- tions come out of my mouth, but there’s no talking sense into these tiny compulsive collectors. Then, after the girls have gone to bed and I am preparing to


secretly unload some of their crazy bunches of beloved junk into the garbage can or recycling bin, I look around. With the quiet of the house taking hold, my brain has a chance to slow down and contem- plate a bit, and I see where they, my girls, get it from. The walls of our home are filled with my collections of paint-by-number paintings and vintage American travel plates. My cupboards are full of dishes for every season and holiday of the year, and my bedroom displays a large assortment of antique black and white photographs. I keep add- ing to my necklace collection with zest. And I realize that I love each and every one of my paintings and bracelets and crocheted afghans and that my collections would not be complete without each of them. My family lives with my quirky hoarding sensibility and I


should respect theirs. Although our tastes may be different, our need to surround ourselves with people and objects we love is the same. Hoarders, schmoarders. I’ll take my reality over a TV show any


day.


My name is Amy Pence-Brown and I am a compulsive collector. You can read more about our Boise life on my blog, Doin’ It All, Idaho Style, www.idaho-style.blogspot.com.


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