The Brown Chair, Circa 2009
This past two weeks, we went through a really unfortunate series of events that involved us putting an offer on a house, putting our own house up for sale, and then going in reverse. The house deal fell through, and we are deciding to be happy where we are. Whew. Now I can breathe again.
In all of the hubbub of getting our house ready for showing, we had the opportunity to take stock of all our stuff.
All. Of. The. Stuff.
It was great, actually. All of the clutter got sorted, organized, and cleared out of sight. We took several car loads of stuff to the Goodwill. We sold several things on Craigslist. We can’t quite say we came out ahead, but it was therapeutic and we did a good job at getting rid of stuff!
But then we had to decide about some baby things. We’ve pretty much decided there will be no more babies. Yet, when I asked my husband – “What do you think about getting rid of the baby swing?” he just looked at me, shook his head ‘no’ and didn’t say a word.
He didn’t have to. I don’t want to get rid of it either.
The Baby Swing, Circa 2011
We have gotten rid of many baby things, and it was pretty easy. Cribs. Play yard. Bassinet. Big, noisy, musical toys. Talking, annoying toys. Clothes and shoes that we didn’t treasure and deserved a second life. Gone, baby, baby gone. Easy peasy.
And we have kept the normal, clearly special things that parents keep. The quilts that grandma made. A few boxes of baby clothes, that I envision making into a quilt some day for a keep sake (which I also imagine will mean more to me than the kids, but I’m OK with that!). Their newborn shoes, receiving blankets, hospital caps and special silver rattles from their great uncle.
But then there are the big things and little things that we feel uncertain about keeping forever, but feel like we can’t let go. Clothes, furniture, toys, trinkets infused with memories and meaning that I don’t want to forget or lose.
The brown chair my daughter got for her first birthday from her grandparents, that rocks and is just her size. Now my son barely fits in it. I love that little chair.
The little wooden desk and chairs Santa brought my daughter for her second Christmas where where both kids have colored. It has the the green wheely thing they use to play pirates and puppy dogs, but soon they’ll be too big to use it.
The UNC Tarheel mobile we got for my son’s crib.
The cheerio-encrusted stroller that only a mother could still love.
The little antique writing desk we bought my daughter on a whim, and she was so proud to sit there and do her “work”, even though she had not started kindergarten yet.
How long do we keep these things? How do we know when to let go?
Maybe I’ll just keep asking my husband: “What about this thing?” A nod “yes” or a shake “no” may be our strategy. But if he keeps shaking his head “no”, we may be in the market for a new house again soon!
About Mary Beth Cox