I’m the Mom Who Couldn’t Let Go of Baby Stuff Long After the Babies Had Grown Up

home insemination Kit

By: Jenna Cartwright

I have a real struggle with decluttering, and I think it might be a bit of a problem. But a few months back, a friend’s visit opened my eyes to the fact that our small home was overflowing with stuff. The kicker? It was all baby stuff, and my babies had long since turned into little humans.

The lightbulb moment came when my friend came over to pick up her son after a playdate. Standing in my 5-year-old’s room, she bluntly remarked, “Wow, there sure are a lot of baby toys here!” And she wasn’t wrong. The room was bursting with vibrant, noisy, and delightful baby toys. In one corner sat a giant yellow truck, while a plastic bin overflowed with mini pianos, wooden puzzles, a ball-and-hammer toy, interlocking rings, and even a stray pacifier. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me.

My husband and I had spent countless hours lounging in sweatpants on the floor, engaging with our boys and all that baby gear. Back then, time felt like it was in slow motion. We had no soccer practices, tennis matches, or birthday parties to rush to; our primary duties were to play, respect nap times, cuddle, and consume copious amounts of coffee. We could look disheveled and it was completely acceptable. Clothes that could easily be mistaken for pajamas, often with holes, were a common sight. And we didn’t care one bit.

But now, my “babies” are growing up. The 8-year-old is learning math, and the 5-year-old is asking profound questions about the solar system. They’ve evolved into real people, and the days of sweatpants and carefree living are behind us. It’s time to dress like adults.

Yet, there remained the tricycle, the baby basketball hoop, and the miniature slide! I knew I needed to declutter to maintain a semblance of sanity, but how could I part with that baby basketball hoop? What about the joy of seeing diapered toddlers zooming around the yard, their faces lit up with smiles?

And oh, the irony! Just as we finally figured out the baby gig, all that knowledge became unnecessary. We had just overcome our fears of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and public meltdowns, but now we didn’t need those skills anymore. Yet, the baby stuff was still here, surrounding us.

My husband and I decided to tackle the situation, starting with our 5-year-old. “Want to help?” I asked. “Yes!” he exclaimed, “I’m ready for my big boy room!” As we sorted through the toys, he began making sound effects for each one and then announced that he wanted to keep everything—just not in his room. Thus, a new baby toy corner was established in our garage, not for me but for him.

I inherited my sentimental hoarding tendencies honestly. When my sister was expecting her first child, my mom sent boxes of our old toys from Maryland to California, complete with some from my childhood. We laughed and reminisced over a 1950s doll in pristine condition and other treasures from my own babyhood. As we reveled in nostalgia, we realized we had just inherited the burden of these toys.

Then came the Bob jogger stroller. It took up a lot of room in our bedroom, but Bob was our trusty sidekick. He accompanied us on morning walks to Starbucks, trips to the farmer’s market, and family outings to Disneyland. As I rummaged through his pocket, I found a smooth pebble my youngest had collected years ago. Could I really let Bob go? Yes, I had to! It seemed absurd to keep a stroller out of mere sentimentality.

So my husband posted Bob on Craigslist. Shortly after, a lovely woman named Lisa arrived with her partner to take him off our hands. As they wheeled Bob out the door, I struggled to mask my emotions, but Lisa noticed and said, “It’s going to a great home. We all get attached to things that were once our babies.”

Her words struck a chord—two losses: the items and the babies. She articulated why I clung so tightly to these remnants of my past, making saying goodbye to Bob a tad less painful. While I won’t have little ones to cradle anymore, Bob would carry on with another family. Farewell, Bob. We cherished every beautiful, chaotic, wonderful moment together. You will be missed.

Now, if only I could figure out what to do with my wisdom teeth.

In summary, I faced the reality of my home being overtaken by baby items long after my little ones had outgrown them. With a little encouragement from my son and some reflection, I realized it was time to let go, even if it meant parting with cherished mementos.

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