I Tried Embracing Montessori Parenting, But Now I’m Craving Our Colorful, Plastic Toys Back Stat

home insemination Kit

My first journey into pregnancy was nothing short of a reality check. It wasn’t the swollen ankles, the heartburn, or the constant need to pee at the worst possible moments. No, it was the shocking discovery that baby gear is just plain U-G-L-Y. It’s all plastic, and the color schemes are as loud as a rave party. Sometimes, those noisy toys would blare out of nowhere while I was just trying to fold yet another onesie that my well-meaning friends showered me with, all featuring slogans like “Daddy’s Lil’ MVP” or “Cute Like Auntie.”

When my son turned 2 and I found out I was expecting a daughter, I decided to make a bold move. I gathered up the worst offenders—those alphabet-singing trains, light-up turtles that could ignite a baby rave, some bizarre snail that rocked back and forth making unsettling noises, and an infernal keyboard shaped like a cat that meowed with every keystroke.

I smashed them all and scattered their pieces across my front lawn as a warning to family and friends: “No more torture devices for birthdays or Christmas, please!” Or maybe I just donated them. The details are a bit hazy, thanks to the rage-induced memory lapses.

Determined to create a peaceful, minimalist home, I arranged baskets filled with wooden and fabric toys designed to inspire my children’s creativity. I envisioned them playing with their toys rather than being played at. There were alphabet blocks, chunky puzzles, and lovingly crafted dolls—each in serene earth tones. I stepped back, feeling proud of the tranquil environment I was cultivating for my kids, channeling my inner hipster parent.

However, as I prepared dinner, I felt a wave of joy over the quiet I hoped to enjoy. But just as I reached for a pot, I was startled by my son, who had crept up behind me with a gaze that could be straight out of a horror film. I may have leaked a little pee.

The next few hours turned into a chaotic game of defense. I found myself dodging between my child and a hot stove while trying to keep him safe and prevent the chicken from burning. In the midst of attempting to cut a single sweet potato, I was interrupted at least 12 times with requests for playtime or storytime. I’m all for bonding with my kid, but at 5:15 p.m., I needed him out of my hair or we were having cereal for dinner.

Desperate, I dashed to the TV and popped in a DVD that could do what I couldn’t at that moment: entertain my child. He plopped down on the couch, eyes glazed over, and I backed away slowly as the tiniest bit of drool began to escape. Elmo, I owe you an apology! You came through for me tonight.

After tossing all those electronic toys, I quickly realized their true value. No one invents those annoyingly loud playthings just for kicks; they’re lifesavers, distractions crafted for our survival. And like an idiot, I had discarded them without recognizing their essential role in our family dynamics.

Before you embark on a toy purging spree, consider the implications. The expense of hiring a part-time nanny or a mid-level personal chef isn’t trivial. Quality time with kids is invaluable, but so is the luxury of a moment to pee without worrying about what mischief a toddler might be cooking up. If you’re planning a major toy overhaul, stash a few noisy ones away for those desperate times—maybe toss in some extra batteries for good measure. As for me, I’ll be scouring consignment shops this weekend to buy back our old toys at twice the price I originally got for them.

In this parenting journey, it seems that sometimes the loudest toys are the most helpful.

Summary

In this humorous piece, Jamie Thompson reflects on her attempts at Montessori parenting and the subsequent realization of the value of colorful, noisy plastic toys. After a chaotic day of parenting, she acknowledges that while minimalism is appealing, the practicality of electronic toys can be a lifesaver for busy parents. The article serves as a reminder to appreciate the role of all toys in family life.