The Toy Was Small, But the Lesson Was Big

The Toy Was SmallJaune

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Put in in the right place!

The Toy, the Bin, and the Breakdown

Ever have one of those days where you’re just trying to keep the household from tipping into full-blown madness, and someone (bless their heart) adds a little extra flavor to the chaos? That was me the other day—just a mom on a mission, trying to maintain some order, when my husband decided to turn our living room into a scavenger hunt.

There was a toy. A single toy. Minding its business in the wrong corner of the room. Rather than returning it to the toy bin like any sane adult would, my husband gave it a new home…on the dresser. The dresser. Because obviously, that’s the logical next step in the Toy Relocation Program.

I offered a gentle nudge: “Hey sweetheart, that toy belongs in the bin below.”

Simple, right?

But no—he pulls out the wrong bin, and suddenly I’m twitching like I’ve just watched someone fold a fitted sheet the wrong way.“ Not that one, honey—the one to the right.” Cue my inner voice, screaming, “ORGANIZATION MATTERS!”

Cleaning, Shrugging, and Passive-Aggressive Poltergeists

To be fair, I’ve been in a two-week cleaning frenzy. I’m talking baseboards scrubbed with a toothbrush, touch-up paint on the walls, and channeling my inner Mrs. Clean with industrial-strength determination.

So when he shrugs and says, “That’s too much. I’ll let you handle it,” I didn’t exactly explode—but the air was thick with sighs, passive-aggressive monologues, and enough muttering to summon a Shakespearean ghost.

What My Daughter Sees

Here’s the thing: I don’t have the world’s highest self-esteem. I avoid stepping into full-on “household drill sergeant” mode because I like peace (and yelling echoes in a freshly cleaned house). But I’ve got one little sidekick who sees everything—my daughter Jacki.

She’s the only one who jumps up to help without a bribe or a chore chart. She’s also the reason my mindset is shifting.

Jacki’s getting older. She notices things—like how some people mysteriously don’t hear the vacuum or how the laundry “magically” folds itself. She’s starting to understand balance. And so am I.

I’m learning to say things like:“Hey honey, can you help with the cleanup?”Or, “Can you take kid duty for a bit? I need a moment before I turn into a sarcastic goblin.”

It’s not nagging. It’s self-preservation.

More Than Just ‘Mom’

But deeper than that is the question I keep asking myself: What is Jacki learning from me? Does she see motherhood as the end of personal dreams? A career killer? A one-way ticket to self-sacrifice?

That’s why I love homeschooling. Jacki’s in advanced classes and often chooses to do more than expected. And in that space, she sees me—not just as “Mom,” but as a curious, resourceful, and problem-solving human. Someone who can explain quantum physics and still find the missing sock in 30 seconds.

She learns that staying home wasn’t giving up—it was a bold, conscious choice. I tell her the truth: It’s scary. Brave. Messy. Not always fair. It means pausing a career, depending entirely on your partner, and praying they understand the gravity of that decision.

Oh—and did I mention I have an IT engineering degree? Yeah. Superhero suit buried under the laundry pile. Most days I’m scrubbing toilets and wiping tears, but deep down, I’m Iron Mom. Just haven’t worn the suit in a while. Time to dust it off.

To the Moms Running Empires

Jacki sees it all—the exhaustion, the eye-rolls, the bounce back with grace (or sarcasm). And that’s why I do it. Not because I couldn’t do something else—but because I choose this. For them.

To every mom out there juggling flaming batons without a script or stunt double: this one’s for you. We’re not just running homes—we’re running empires. We’re the CEOs of chaos. And the universe, on a good day.

You’re incredible. You’re unstoppable, and if you forget it, just ask Jacki. She’ll give you a pep talk—and probably organize your sock drawer while she’s at it.