Freedom

I began on Monday. First was mine and hub's bedroom. Why do we keep all these CD cases when we also have portfolios to keep them in? Three boxes of empty CD cases - big boxes, and after I had already gotten rid of one box last decluttering spree.

Hub finally sorted through his baseball caps and we went from about thirty down to five or six. He went through his clothes and we got rid of things that don't fit or are out of date and he STILL has more clothes than I do. Of course, that could also be because I wear long skirts and sweats all the time. LOL (And sometimes for two or three days in a row.)

The bedroom is completely clean. Every closet, under the bed, every drawer. The amazing thing is that we have four completely empty shelves (approx. 3' by 5') that haven't been empty since we bought the house six years ago. It's such a relief.

Then I moved onto the kitchen yesterday. I still have one drawer left to clean but the rest is finished. I had eight sippy cups for one baby. This is the thing. I think that not only is it harder to keep up and clean around this much stuff, but it makes you lazy also. If you only have three sippy cups, you have to keep up with them. Sort of like my coffee cups that end up in the car for a week because I have plenty more. Now, you can close the cup cabinet without fear of falling sippy cups. *takes a bow*

Today is the boys' room which will prove to be much more difficult than the rest I'm sure. His dresser drawers are clean, and I donated a good deal of things during the remodeling, but there's still mounds of toys in the closet. He can't part with anything, and he's home for spring break this week. This will be a test between a mother's determination and a son's unwillingness to change. Let the battle begin.

Then books are the only thing left. I've already cleared out the bedroom, so now I'm onto the bookshelves and the cedar chest. I'm determined.

As always, Oprah runs this show about an older woman who became a hoarder after her children left home every time I hit a decluttering phase. Someday, they will run a show about me - the woman who could fit all her belongings in a ten gallon bucket after her children left home.

But it did get me thinking about why we clutter, our attachment to things, and how not to let my family become clutterers again. A good part of it is laziness. We fell into a cycle of making a stack of papers on the hutch instead of sorting immediately. The kids toys get thrown into the closet bins during a quick pick up instead of the proper bins, and it stays that way.

Think about how much stuff you bring into your house every week and how much leaves. Books, mail, clothes, toys, handmedowns. I'm putting a stop to it.

It has taken three different decluttering phases for me to finally hit the big one - finally get to the point where I know I'll never accept another bag of handmedowns because they were offered. I'll stop buying every book I want to read when I have a beautiful library and a wonderful librarian who will get me anything I want.

People think decluttering is just about getting the stuff out of your house. It isn't. It's about finding out why you clutter and making changes not only inside the housing structure, but in who you are. You have to be ready. You have to be sick of it. You have to be able to see how cluttering impacts your life. It takes away from who you are. I want to write. I want to garden. I don't want to sort through closets full of stuff I should never have brought home. This is my space - the only space I have that I can control. Living in clutter isn't control. It's deceit. You deceive yourself into believing that your life will be better off with all this stuff when you know, inside, you'll probably never use it. You deceive yourself into believing it's all the kids' stuff, or your hubby is leaving trails, but in actuality, you have let this happen. You haven't set rules. And when being honest, it was you who accepted the majority of the stuff.

Here's to a fresh new outlook on life. My house will be clutter free tomorrow. Friday morning, all the floors will be scrubbed, even in that space under the bed I've been using for storage, and I KNOW I will never clutter my house again. I will think before I buy. I will think before I make that stack of papers on the hutch. I will require my kids to donate one toy for every toy they bring home (excluding birthdays). There is a time to save things, and that time is when you don't think you'll have anything in the future. I will have great things. I don't need to save like an old mad woman.

The Baby Bed

I spent my first few months sleeping in a new cradle. My younger brother followed along sixteen months later and rested his little head in the same bed. The cradle moved from house to house as my nieces and nephews were born until twenty-four years later, I rocked my own little boy in that bed.

For four years, the cradle was stored in my walk-in closet. I brought it out one day, leaned my swollen belly over the sides, scrubbed down the mattress and dressed it for the baby that was soon to come.

Since then, it has been stored in the closet, forgotten until I need to dig through the pile of clothes and CDs that drifted into the bed due to lack of storage.

My oldest son recently accompanied me to a battered women's shelter to drop of donations we had collected around the house. He rubbed the toes of a baby who was staying there with his mother. She told my son that she and the baby were getting ready to move into their own apartment.

Later that night, I tucked my son into his top bunk, turned off the lights, and went to the kitchen to finish folding a load of laundry. As I was folding my three-year-old's sweatpants, I thought about that mother; independent for the first time in years, alone with a baby to care for, and wondered if she had ever rocked her baby in a cradle.

My husband was sleeping when I turned on the light to our room. I folded the clothes in the cradle, stacked the CDs on the floor next to the dresser, and smashed my finger when I pulled the cradle out of the closet.

I leaned my flat belly over the railing, scrubbed down the mattress, and loaded the cradle into the back of my truck.

We have things that we hang onto that others could use. Odds are, that cradle would sit in my closet, be moved from house to house as I grow old, and one day, be hauled away after I die.

We create attachments to things in our life for many reasons, but one of the most damaging, I believe, is holding onto things because we cannot tell others how they make us feel. Our own private thoughts when looking at a baby bed, or Grandpa's favorite chair, are very difficult to share. When we allow ourselves the opportunity to share those feelings, the tension, the pull we feel towards those items, is loosened.

I crawled into bed with my son the other day. Cuddled together with my nose in his hair and my arm draped over his waist, I told him about how I used to rock him as a baby and how happy I was to have him in my life. He reached his hand up and brushed my hair off my cheek. A wooden cradle can't give me what I get from being close and open with my children.

Is there something you hang onto that you are ready to give to someone who is in need?