It was a mild Sunday in March, perfect for tackling the chaos in our garage and patio as we prepared for my daughter Lily’s 10th birthday bash. She wanted a Nerf-themed party, and while it wasn’t my top pick, her friend’s similar celebration had been the talk of the school, so I was motivated to clean up.
Our garage situation was dire—it had spilled over into the patio. Living in a compact home in Oregon, just under 1,000 square feet with three bedrooms and three kids, space is a luxury we can’t afford. Despite moving across three states during our marriage, my partner and I had somehow become experts at dragging our old boxes along without ever reconsidering what was inside them.
We weren’t hoarders per se; we just couldn’t let go of our nostalgic ’90s treasures.
As my partner, Sarah, unearthed a box filled with her old prom dresses, she let out an excited squeal. She pulled out a shiny baby blue number with puffy shoulders, reminiscing about high school dates and memorable moments. Meanwhile, I was stuck in my own memory lane, having unearthed my old Army jacket adorned with punk band patches and a hint of past acne.
Now in my mid-30s, with a career and three kids, wearing that jacket felt like stepping back into my rebellious youth, even if just for a moment. I had done this ritual before—donning the jacket, feeling rebellious, and then packing it away again. The nostalgia was why I had clung to it all these years, along with my snowboards and old band tees, even if none of it had any real use anymore.
As Sarah held up another dress, this one a vibrant purple, she wondered aloud if our daughter might want to wear it someday. I chuckled, “I doubt Lily will be interested in those dresses. The same way that I don’t think she’ll be sporting my punk jacket on her first day of high school.” I could see the conflict in her eyes; she understood the logic but wasn’t ready to part with those cherished pieces of her past.
This moment encapsulated an often-unspoken aspect of adulthood. Yes, parenting, home-buying, and career-building are significant milestones, but there’s also that moment when you trade in your youth for practicality—like slipping into slacks and a work polo, or embracing the minivan life, even if it feels a bit like surrendering your cool card. It means letting go of the relics of your youth—like prom dresses and punk jackets—and stepping into the role of a responsible adult.
Eventually, my jacket, along with some of Sarah’s dresses, found their way into our van, destined for donation. Sarah held onto two dresses for dress-up purposes, though I suspected she wanted to keep them for sentimental reasons, and honestly, that was okay.
When I dropped off our items at the Goodwill donation trailer, it stung a little seeing those memories being treated as just another set of items to sort through. But I reminded myself that the clean, organized garage was worth it.
Adulthood may mean saying goodbye to those pieces of nostalgia, but it’s also about embracing the new roles and responsibilities that come with it. And for that, I felt pretty accomplished.
For more insights on the journey of parenthood, you might enjoy this article from one of our other blog posts. If you’re considering expanding your family, you can find helpful resources about fertility and home insemination at Make a Mom. Additionally, Hopkins Medicine offers excellent information on pregnancy and fertility.
Summary
Adulthood often involves letting go of nostalgic items from our youth, such as prom dresses and punk jackets, to make room for the responsibilities of parenting and daily life. Embracing this change can be bittersweet, but it ultimately leads to a more organized and fulfilling lifestyle.