A strange thing has happened to me during this pregnancy. Instead of the nesting inclination I had when I was pregnant with JC, I have the opposite: I want to get rid of everything. I want to purge. I want to streamline. I want to organize and control.
My husband is positively thrilled.
When we moved this spring, I was too wrapped up in morning sickness to do any organizing at all. Everything was packed, whether we needed it or not. Once we got settled in, I realized I hadn’t leased a storage unit…which made me realize that if I did so now, I’d have to haul all the stuff to the unit myself. So everything extra went into JC’s closet and bedroom: all his toys. Thousands of legos. Off-season clothes. Our holiday decorations, childhood mementos, random boxes of spare computer parts and college paperwork got stacked into his oversized closet. It was madness, and it also made me realize a third thing: in a few short months, I was going to have to fit a whole other human (albeit a small one) and all his accruements in there, too.
So I started to sort. It has been decades coming, folks. Once I started to throw things away, I couldn’t stop. Letters from boyfriends I hadn’t even liked at the time, notes passed between elementary school gal pals, sheet music from middle school concert band, ticket stubs from when I was 8 or 9, and incriminating photos from my sorority days went into big black garbage bags. An entire box of gift bags from my wedding. 10 years ago. I may have a tiny bit of a hoarding problem.
Despite the hormonal surge to clear out everything, it still came with a bit of nostalgia for the proverbial grandma’s attic. You know, going back to Grandma’s old farmhouse as an adult where you spent your summers and getting lost in the attic, finding things from generations ago. Finding old diaries and letters wrapped in twine and–
–Wait, you don’t know? Actually…me either. I think perhaps my desire to keep everything for future generations comes from the scene in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation when Chevy Chase gets stuck up in the attic and watches reels of old movies. There is no attic such as that in my world–in fact, my grandma just moved into a nursing home and all of her earthly possessions have been stacked at my mother’s house in what is proving to be a long, tedious and painful process as my mother has to go through old bills, letters, paperwork and stuff. Definitely not the memories I want to leave behind for my future generations.
No, I’d rather leave a few well-chosen memories for my children’s children to go through one day: a glowing reference letter my high school newspaper editor wrote for me that made me sound like a literary genius. The movie stub from the very first date I went on with my husband. A feather from the feather boa I wore to my senior prom (yep, I was that girl). And maybe–maaaaaybe–a salacious photo or two from those sorority days, just to make my grandkids raise an eyebrow at what grandma was like back in the day.
Do you hang on to everything? Or do you throw away as you go? Is there anything you’ve gotten rid of that you wish you could get back?