Whose Bedroom is This?

When I was in 6th or 7th grade, my parents allowed me to stay home while they went out to a party. This is not so unusual except that they let me have a friend over too. This was one of those friends with whom I always managed to get into some kind of trouble when we were together. Perhaps many of my childhood friends would say that I was that friend in their life but from my perspective, this friend was Angie Moore. We always had so much fun but frequently made bad decisions. On this particular evening we had been playing outside when we thought we heard some noises coming from inside my house. If you've never been there, let me explain that my parents' house sat in the middle of 22 acres and backed into a farm so we were pretty far "out there". Angie and I nobly grabbed some weapons (heavy sticks) and crept toward the house, both insisting that we heard voices from within. Skipping over the long details, and remembering that this was an era before cell phones, we ended up walking to a neighbor that I hardly knew, calling my parents at the yacht club (where they were at a party) and who finally decided to have the sheriff come over and check it out.

Did I mention that we were "swimming" in a watering trough that had earlier been used for watering our sheep? We had spent much of the day emptying, cleaning and refilling it before our brief (freezing cold) swim had been interrupted by the possible intruders and left walking to a near stranger/neighbor while soaking wet? So when the sheriff deputy came by to pick us up and head to our house, we were already a little embarrassed. We sat in the cruiser while the deputies searched inside and outside the house, and although it isn't important to the point of my story, I'm sure you're dying to know-they did not find anyone or anything inside. There was speculation that the sounds we had heard were actually a nearby party that had carried to our house.

ANYWAY, the actual point of the story in this telling was that one of the deputies had pulled me aside after searching the house and asked if I knew that there was jewelry and clothing strewn about the upstairs bedroom? Even to my 12 year old brain I knew that the question was meant to determine whether someone had ransacked my bedroom looking for valuables. I had to sheepishly admit that no, that was a quite normal condition for my bedroom to be in - especially when the clothes were dress up and the jewelry was costume and my friend was over.

This memory came flooding back to me today as I sat in my bed looking at the current condition of my bedroom some 22 or so years later. My initial shame (and irrational fear that a sheriff deputy might one day step in there and wonder if a crime had taken place) was replaced with indignation. A good 3/4 of the stuff out of place was neither mine nor my husbands! So, I collected all of the things that weren't ours and made a pile. And, of course, took a picture. I estimate that there are enough little girls' underwear, socks, clothing and nightgowns to outfit the entire cast of "The Facts of Life" (at least if they were smaller). There were enough toys and books to make all of Annie's orphan friends happy for a few days.

This is just in MY room. How does everything end up in there? While I was collecting things for the picture, Muffin was creating a fort with my chaise, my lamp and Doodle's blanket. My kids always seem to want to be where we are and on the one hand, that's nice. I know the day will come when the last thing they want to do is hang out with mom and dad. I just wish that they could travel lighter!