Lately, I've been feeling these tremors, these inklings, like I need to DO something with the baby stuff we've amassed (oh, have we ever..) over the years, and finally had the idea that I needed to weed through it all and trim down the Graco, FIscher Price, and Evenflo items that were weighing down our guest room, and weighing down my emotions every time I looked in there and thought "Are we ever going to use that mobile again? What about the swing which is taking up half the closet?"
The thrifty side of me balks at this possibility of a purge, knowing that while the sleepers and onesies I've cleaned, folded, and placed into protective bins cost me money, money that I should not have to spend on trying to regroup everything I doled out for Sprite.
Then the practical side of me remembers, I never needed all those outfits, shoes, whatever. I had quickly found my three or four favorites out of twenty different choices and ignored the rest while Sprite continued to spit up on whatever she deemed worthy. (Which usually ended up being MY clothes, but I digress.)
As September brought with it the Jewish New Year and my own birthday, both factors reminding me that even though age is only a number, it weighs heaviest in the early Fall, I am struck, once again, with the urge to clean house. John lets me loose on every room in the house except his office, the door being closed so he doesn't have to hear the now common question "Hey, John, what were you planning to DO with five hammers?" or deal with the sight of his usually disheveled environment inspiring me to organize it.
I've attacked our closet, Sprite's wardrobe, subjecting her to endless repeats of "try this one on", dove mercilessly through her toy chest, looking for things to give away physically, as if that will lighten some of the emotional load. Our home, tidy yet too cluttered for my liking, is nowhere near capacity, but in my mind, it's bursting at the seams.
When John started the process of replacing our land line with an Internet based phone (Ooma something, I've been calling it Armadillo since my tongue can't come to terms with the unique brand name.) and cleared our clunker of a phone out of its primary location in the corner of a kitchen counter, I immediately set about clearing the rest of the accessories out of the same area, finally feeling a sense of relief that I had taken back a section of the surface that had been unavailable to me. What's resting there now? My purse.
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I originally wrote the above in April, 2010, updated it in September, then let the post lie when life distracted me enough to forget about the whole thing. I've decided not to change anything about it since, while the thought process is all over the place, it walks the same path as my mind as of late, and I promise, it will make sense in the end.
I've been absent from much of the blogging community for the last few weeks thanks to a major change in our home infrastructure. Three rooms went through complete overhauls, evictions of the current tenants and paint jobs before the new leasees were welcomed as soon as their first month/ last month deposits cleared. (Sprite's piggy bank is being held as collateral as her credit history is pretty poor.)
Now that most of the paint fumes have settled, (we finished the third room yesterday and I banished the paint to the garage once I had reached a status of "I can live with it" over my re-do's and touch up's and that corner that just wouldn't take the color as well as the rest.
The guest room was the last to be done, Sprite and John's spaces first to be tackled. When I cleared the quarters first to prep it for Sprite, I emptied the closet of those baby items that had been dwelling in the back of my mind for a few years now. The same items sat out and shoved to the side in the dining room, a hold placed on their destination until the house was a little less cluttered.
Now that Sprite is settled in and John has sequestered all of his geek crap into one space, I can now face the facts (and furniture).
In April, I had made up my mind to give the baby items away, the swing, the bouncy seat, the exersaucer, the toys, burp cloths, bottle warmers, the teeny tiny socks that Sprite wore only once, and since they were yellow and pristine, they would practically be new to a baby of any sex... All of these things that had packed into the guest room closet, that had been put away like a thought not to be reckoned with until absolutely necessary, I had decided to donate them.
I didn't.
Every time I've brought it up, I've shot it down since I considered the rules of irony, once she giveth the baby booty, she will getteth pregnant.
I'm not pregnant, thanks for asking.
And now it's staring me in the face, daring me to ignore the rules I had set, that these items would not move anywhere until a decision was made.
I even thought about my sister-in-law about to give birth next month to a baby boy. I had picked these items because of their gender neutrality, expecting to use them for the next baby, regardless of gender. Her first was a girl and their items were decidedly pink, pink, and a touch more of pink. So, I offered them out, almost as a rental, or a lease plan that I wouldn't have to think about it until she was done with them.
She hasn't gotten back to me in the three weeks since the offer was made.
(Honestly, she gave away the very expensive breast pump I had lent her when she had her baby over 2 years ago and hasn't made the merest mention to follow up on it even when I asked of its whereabouts, so I don't think she would stick too closely to any return policy.)
The stuff sits.
Should I hold onto these things for a desire that may never happen? Should I donate these items to someone who can definitely make use of them, honestly, they're doing no good just sitting there in the closet, or keep them until our statute of limitations on trying for another baby runs out?
I can't make up my mind, no matter how many times I do. Every time I build the confidence to finally take action on it, I talk myself out of it.
So I'm turning to you.
What are your thoughts? Should I simply stick them right back into a closet and not open it until we are traveling down that path again or should I donate them, even though I may end up pregnant in the future which means more money shelled out in the long run?
Tough call. Which is why I'm making it yours. Help me decide and clear my mind, not only the clutter.
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Whoa. I just read this right now. Can we say fragmented?
