You know how you know when something’s a pit? When your toddler points at it and says, “ewwww, messy.” That’s what she did this evening when she stepped into our garage.
And she’s right. It is a pit. Inside, we have:
- Three bikes we never use
- Eight kitchen chairs we never use
- A fish tank
- An old CD rack
- A decrepit papasan chair (and ottoman)
- A broken rocking chair
- 6 million comic book storage boxes
- 50 bazillion assorted baby items
It’s the baby crap that is taking up the most room. Which is crazy. I mean, think about it. When those little people hatch, they fit in the crook of your arm. But their stuff? Multiplies until it takes over the whole house, pushing everything else into dusty corners and under drafty windows.
And since they grow faster than a tick when it’s fastened to a juicy vein, their stuff quickly becomes too small, out grown, useless. So you put it away somewhere, thinking that someday you’ll need it again.
At least I did.
But now I’m not so sure. I mean, I’m almost 36. Which, as I overheard on a crowded plane, makes me pretty much over the hill when it comes to babymaking.
And you know what? I kinda like my life. She’s sleeping through the night (mostly). She can talk. Which means she can tell me what she wants (sometimes she even adds a please or a thank you). And I’m told that at some point before she hits kindergarten, she’ll start using all that expensive potty training equipment I bought her.
Do I really want to do it all over again?
Part of me says yes, yes I do. But the more rational side of me? The one that had three abdominal surgeries in the space of the year? Wants nothing to do with any of it.
Which leaves me staring at my disgusting garage and wondering. Should I just pick a sunny Saturday morning and unload it all? Pass it on to mommies who could use a $15 dollar swing or a $1o high chair?
It’s really tempting.
Especially since that would mean there would probably be space in the garage for the pretty new car I have every intention of buying this weekend (but more on that later).
Do I do it? Clean house and say good bye to the infant years for good? Or hang on to it…just in case?
I really don’t know. My luck, I’d get rid of it all and end up preggers two months later.
And that thought? Leaves the mushy mommy in me rubbing her hands in glee and saying DO IT!
What would you do in my shoes, Internet?