by Richmondmom Kate Semp 
I moved a lot growing up (12 schools in 12 years a lot) and I was raised by parents who grew up moving a lot and continue to do so. We didn’t have or keep “stuff”. What we kept and moved from place to place was based on our allotted weight limits for shipping.
Fast forward a number of years and I have lived in Richmond since 2000 and moved 3 times. Somehow it has become easier to collect “stuff” especially when I hear other parents talking about collecting, scrapbooking, photologging/blogging for their kids. I felt I have to do the same otherwise I am not a good parent.
The problem is this “stuff” is making me crazy. I hate it. It’s junk. I survived without my mom saving everything. Not only have I survived I don’t resent my mom for not passing on a baby book or giving me a box of “stuff” to share with my kids. Instead I prefer when my parents take a moment to sit with my kids and tell them the “when your mommy was a little girl” stories.
So, the last couple of weekends we have cleaned, reorganized and purged. And my kids have fought less over stuff and my husband and I have argued less over mess. But most importantly I purged the guilt for not keeping a baby book, or scrapbooking, or having all the family pictures organized, or making sure I saved the most treasured finger painting project from the first day of preschool
“Stuff” overwhelms me. “Stuff” makes me feel trapped. “Stuff” is more work. A baby book for each kid, perfectly hung family portraits on the wall don’t define me as a mother. How my kids remember their childhood and who they become defines the job I do as a mother. And, for that matter, as a spouse and plain ol’ me.
Comment on this post