This is the room I love to be in, love to spend much of my at-home time in. The room some of the most important events of my life have taken place in, even the births of three of my children. It is so bright, so light-filled and busy. It's never going to be the perfect Waldorf home, but it's perfect for us.
But it just *does not* stay like this. (And this is as tidy as it EVER gets. EVER.)
Hoovered twice a day or twice a week, it doesn't seem to make much of a difference. Likewise with tidying up toys, papers, etc. And I am horrendously bad at putting things away (not as bad as the children, but they have the excuse of being relatively inexperienced with the consequences). I just don't learn.
I put things to one side "to deal with when I have a minute" and before I realise time is passing it's six months later and I'm astounded to realise that YET AGAIN I have a stack of *undated* mixed papers (scrapbooking supplies, blank worksheets, finished schooly stuff, pictures by the children, correspondance) and I have to set about filing it all and have no idea where to begin.
So when our shelf of art supplies and current projects looks like this, it's a big achievement. Next week it won't be recognisable. I'm resigned to the fact that I am neither naturally organised OR tidy. Ah well. I can write a poem, field a billion questions without flagging (much), just about keep up with the laundry, find time for fun stuff, know most of the spells from the Harry Potter books, tell amazing stories, AND I bake fantastic cake. I reckon my kids will survive. ;)