I struggle with the concept of decluttering, and I suspect it might be a bit of a problem for me. Recently, a friend encouraged me to take a fresh look at our cozy home, and I realized it was teeming with stuff. The most awkward part? It was all baby-related, and my little ones had outgrown that phase long ago.
The wake-up call came during a playdate when a friend casually noted, “Wow, there are a lot of baby toys in here!” I couldn’t deny it. My 5-year-old’s cheerful room was filled with large, colorful toys that once brought joy. Over in the corner sat a giant yellow truck, while a plastic bin overflowed with items like mini pianos, wooden puzzles, and a forgotten pacifier.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me. My husband and I had spent countless hours on the floor in our sweatpants, enjoying these toys with our boys. Back then, weekends were free of the rush to attend soccer games or birthday parties. Our only responsibilities were to play, embrace nap times, and drink copious amounts of coffee. We could even step out looking like we rolled out of bed; who cared?
Fast forward to now, and my 8-year-old is mastering multiplication while my 5-year-old is curious about the Earth’s rotation. They’ve transformed into little individuals, and the carefree days of sweatpants have faded. The remnants of their babyhood—like that tricycle and the baby basketball hoop—seemed out of place. I knew I had to let go of some items to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but how could I part with the memories they represented?
My husband and I enlisted our 5-year-old in the decluttering process. He enthusiastically proclaimed he was ready for a “big boy room.” As we sorted through toys, he had fun but ultimately decided he wanted to keep everything, just not in his room. Thus, we designated a new storage area in the garage for the baby toys (for his sake, not mine).
Sentimental hoarding runs in my family. When my sister was expecting her first child, our mother shipped boxes of old toys from Maryland to California, including treasures from her own childhood. As my sister and I reminisced over the toys, we realized that they were no longer our mother’s responsibility—but now ours to manage.
As we continued our cleaning, we came across the Bob jogger stroller, which was taking up a significant amount of space. Bob had been our trusty companion, accompanying us on early morning walks and outings to the zoo. As I rummaged through its pockets, I found a smooth pebble my son had collected years ago. Could I really part with Bob? It felt a bit irrational to hold onto a stroller just for nostalgia, right?
My husband listed Bob online, and soon after, a kind woman named Laura came by to take him. As they wheeled Bob away, I fought back tears. Laura noticed and reassured me, saying, “Don’t worry; it’s going to a good home. We all get attached to our baby gear.” Her words struck a chord, encapsulating the dual loss of both the things and the babies they once held. It made saying goodbye to Bob a bit easier. Though the days of holding babies are behind me, I knew that Bob was off to create new memories. So long, Bob. We cherished every beautiful, chaotic, and exhausting moment together.
Now, the challenge is figuring out what to do with my wisdom teeth that just arrived in the mail—yes, you read that right!
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In summary, letting go of baby items can be an emotional journey filled with nostalgia and reflection. While it’s important to move forward, the memories created with those toys and strollers will always hold a special place in our hearts.