My heart is a hoarder
I can't seem to reconcile my brain and my heart when it comes to stuff. You know what I'm talking about: clothes, TOYS, decorations, TOYS, pillows (I really like pillows) and TOYS....ohmygawdtherearesomanyTOYS!
Please start reading this with a hashtag first world problems in mind because I realize we are incredibly fortunate to be able to give our children wonderful things. And trust me, I really try to hone in the toy-buying but somehow they just keep appearing.
A friend recently told me to put some bins in the closet and then just rotate toys. The short-attention-span little peanuts will think they're getting new stuff when really they just haven't played with it for a few minutes. Smart! Feel free to steal that one! I have.
But it's not just the toys. I feel like I spend way too much time in my life doing child-clothing maintenance. I'm not even talking about laundry! I just mean trying to keep up with what fits and what doesn't. Weeds. I've given birth to weeds. I also shrink clothing which probably adds to the problem. Thankfully my husband does most of the laundry (can I get a hell yeah on that one!). I've also been incredibly lucky to receive a ton of hand-me-downs for my little girl. While I still have to figure out what fits and what doesn't, it has saved a lot of headache and MONEY! Which is important because, again, they wear each size for about as long as it takes to blink.
I'm finally going to make a point.
Here's my problem. When it comes to toys, I want to toss everything...like right this very second! But some other items are a bit more sentimental.
This sweater. First of all, I think it's beautiful! It was knitted for me by my great aunt who I believe died before I was even born. If not, shortly after. I have no personal memories of her, but she made this sweater that I adore that looks beautiful on my daughter.
Today, I was trying to see if I could find a photo of me wearing that cream sweater 30+ years ago. I really wanted to see the comparison. I couldn't. But I did find newspaper clippings with box scores from when I was a high school pitcher, a response letter from then-President Clinton after I wrote to him about ways schools might be able to help kids and prevent school shootings like Columbine, photos, a random English assignment from sophomore year and more...so much more. And these tubs of memorabilia (bin implies something smaller than the whale-size tubs of stuff that are in my garage) are the pared-down versions of what my mom wanted to give me.
She was downsizing and said, "I've kept all of this stuff for you to one day have and perhaps share with your children." I laughed to my husband about this. In fact, I've heard many friends and family members chuckle about the mass quantities of stuff their parents have saved for them.
Why would I want this? Why would I ever want any of this? What will I do with it?
But today it hit me. Today, as I went to re-organize some things, and I took down artwork I made for Emme before she was born (it's really not good, I just decided to be crafty while pregnant), it hit me. As I looked at her sweater made by a family member I've never known, it hit me. As I took out a box and found Jack's hospital bracelet from the day he was born, it hit me. These things aren't saved for the child, they're saved for us, the moms. Sure we hold onto the memories in our minds, but we also can't let go of that tangible representation of each moment in time. Our hearts hoard reminders of our babies who change so quickly but somehow leave us with tear-inducing memories every single step of the way.
Yep, that sweater is going in a box for Emme.
Please start reading this with a hashtag first world problems in mind because I realize we are incredibly fortunate to be able to give our children wonderful things. And trust me, I really try to hone in the toy-buying but somehow they just keep appearing.
But it's not just the toys. I feel like I spend way too much time in my life doing child-clothing maintenance. I'm not even talking about laundry! I just mean trying to keep up with what fits and what doesn't. Weeds. I've given birth to weeds. I also shrink clothing which probably adds to the problem. Thankfully my husband does most of the laundry (can I get a hell yeah on that one!). I've also been incredibly lucky to receive a ton of hand-me-downs for my little girl. While I still have to figure out what fits and what doesn't, it has saved a lot of headache and MONEY! Which is important because, again, they wear each size for about as long as it takes to blink.
I'm finally going to make a point.
Here's my problem. When it comes to toys, I want to toss everything...like right this very second! But some other items are a bit more sentimental.
This sweater. First of all, I think it's beautiful! It was knitted for me by my great aunt who I believe died before I was even born. If not, shortly after. I have no personal memories of her, but she made this sweater that I adore that looks beautiful on my daughter.
Today, I was trying to see if I could find a photo of me wearing that cream sweater 30+ years ago. I really wanted to see the comparison. I couldn't. But I did find newspaper clippings with box scores from when I was a high school pitcher, a response letter from then-President Clinton after I wrote to him about ways schools might be able to help kids and prevent school shootings like Columbine, photos, a random English assignment from sophomore year and more...so much more. And these tubs of memorabilia (bin implies something smaller than the whale-size tubs of stuff that are in my garage) are the pared-down versions of what my mom wanted to give me.
She was downsizing and said, "I've kept all of this stuff for you to one day have and perhaps share with your children." I laughed to my husband about this. In fact, I've heard many friends and family members chuckle about the mass quantities of stuff their parents have saved for them.
Why would I want this? Why would I ever want any of this? What will I do with it?
But today it hit me. Today, as I went to re-organize some things, and I took down artwork I made for Emme before she was born (it's really not good, I just decided to be crafty while pregnant), it hit me. As I looked at her sweater made by a family member I've never known, it hit me. As I took out a box and found Jack's hospital bracelet from the day he was born, it hit me. These things aren't saved for the child, they're saved for us, the moms. Sure we hold onto the memories in our minds, but we also can't let go of that tangible representation of each moment in time. Our hearts hoard reminders of our babies who change so quickly but somehow leave us with tear-inducing memories every single step of the way.
Yep, that sweater is going in a box for Emme.
