I’ve always struggled with letting go of things. It’s become something of a running joke among friends, but a few months back, a gentle nudge from a buddy made me take a hard look at the clutter in our small home. To my horror, it was overflowing with baby items—despite the fact that my kids were no longer babies.
The moment of clarity hit during a playdate pickup when a friend casually remarked, “Wow, there are a lot of baby toys here!” She was right; my 5-year-old’s room was stuffed with colorful, noisy baby toys. In one corner sat a giant yellow truck, while a bin overflowed with mini pianos, wooden puzzles, and books about baby animals. Embarrassingly, a pacifier still lingered among the chaos.
A wave of nostalgia washed over me. My husband and I had spent countless afternoons on the floor, our sweatpants-clad selves playing with our little ones, enjoying a slower pace of life. Weekends were free from soccer games and birthday parties; our focus was solely on cuddling, naptimes, and endless cups of coffee. Back then, it was perfectly fine to look like a mess.
Now, my 8-year-old is mastering multiplication, and my 5-year-old is asking about the Earth’s orbit around the sun. They’ve transformed into little people with big ideas, and the carefree days of babyhood are behind us. Yet, the toys—like the tricycle and baby basketball hoop—remained, holding memories I wasn’t ready to part with.
My husband and I decided it was time for a clean-out, and we asked our 5-year-old if he wanted to help. “Yes! I’m ready for my big boy room!” he exclaimed, but when it came time to decide on the toys, he wanted to keep them all—just not in his room. So we designated a space in the garage for the toys (for his sake, not mine).
Sentimental hoarding runs deep in my family. When my sister was expecting her first child, my mom sent boxes of our childhood toys from Maryland to California. Among them were vintage treasures from the 1950s, along with relics from my own baby days—think baby dishes and a Fisher-Price boat. My sister and I laughed as we posed with these nostalgic items, but soon panic set in; now these toys were our responsibility!
As we continued sorting, we faced the Bob jogger stroller, which had seen countless adventures—morning walks to Starbucks, trips to the farmer’s market, and even Disneyland. I found a smooth pebble in its pocket, a treasure from years ago, and realized it was time to let go. My husband posted Bob on Craigslist, and soon a lovely woman named Sarah arrived to claim him. As they wheeled Bob away, I tried to suppress my emotions, but Sarah noticed, saying, “Don’t worry. He’s going to a good home. I know how attached we can get to things that were once our babies.”
And there it was: the dual loss of both the toys and the little ones we once cradled. Her understanding made it a touch easier to say goodbye to Bob. We cherished every moment with him, from the joyful cuddles to the chaotic days in sweatpants, and I knew I would miss him dearly.
Now, I just have to tackle the question of what to do with my wisdom teeth that my mom sent me from Maryland—yes, they’re still here.
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In summary, I’ve realized that it’s time to let go of the baby clutter that once brought joy but now serves as a reminder of a stage that has passed. The journey of parenting evolves, and so must our surroundings.