Anyone who knows what a clean freak I am will not be surprised to find out that I am also a consummate purger. I hang onto only the most important mementos, the bare minimum number of books, enough clothes to get me through two weeks. I hate having stuff hanging around, it is just more stuff to clean and eventually move. So this week I was shocked when my pack rat husband had to talk me down from the hoarding ledge.
After all was said and done with the birthday it is my ritual to clear out old stuff to make room for the new, but when it came to all of Olivia's new books, there was nothing to clear out so I told my husband that we needed more book shelves. He rebutted that Olivia needed fewer books. "No!" I cried, "She reads all of them!" Then he gave me that look, the look that those hosts on all the HGTV shows give the crazy people who are trying to hang on to a macrame plant holder that their third cousin gave them as a wedding gift. I was that sad person. So we went through every single book, and I cried just a little. "You hate reading this one!" he finally yelled in frustration. In my head though all I could think about was yes, I hate reading it, it is a horribly written story, but when she was first learning to talk she would repeat it over and over.
That's when I knew, the one thing I can't get rid of is every single story that at some point in my only baby's life I have read hundreds of time with her on my lap looking into my eyes, baby fine hair tickling my cheek. Every single book has a specific memory, the first time she waved bye-bye was to Max in Where the Wild Things Are, the first time she gave her dramatic reenactment of Olivia and The Missing Toy, even the French textbooks I read her in utero, having no idea of who Dora the Explorer was and how she would change all my aspirations for Olivia's grasp of the romance languages.
So I cried and, for once, Chad caved to me and now Olivia has a few boxes of books in the basement. I hope twenty years from now when she moves away and takes them with her (because I will store nothing) that we can pull them out again and I can tell her the story that goes with each and every one.
Tuesday
Bye, Bye Miss American Pie
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4 comments:
stop making the pregnant one cry!
So does this mean that when I'm in there in july I'm building some new bookcases?
Sometimes I find things that one of my girls made in an odd place. It's a treasure. It's like touching the past. Sure, if I had thrown it away it wouldn't be missed. But having it is a touchable piece of their lives.
I have saved cards my husband sent to me just so they can have a physical remembrance of him. There is a special place for these things. Someday they will find them and treasure them also.
One of the greatest thrills was finding things from my parents that I didn't know existed. My dad made albums for all my mom's shower cards and their wedding cards. My dad wrote copiously to his wife-to-be when he was in the army and those "love letters" have survived for all of us to read. I found a small paper Christmas ornament my dad made after I was born. It says "Thank you for our daughter Daisy. She brought happiness to a world gone crazy." I touch my father when I see that small piece of paper.
Some things are meant to be kept. When they are new they don't seem very important. So give yourself permission to save some of Olivia. Her kids will love it.
from dad's gf
as long as we didn't have to buy any more bookshelves, I didn't care how many books we kept. We need more bookshelves like I need a hole in my head.
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