Memories

So, in the process of weeding out my stuff, I also had three boxes of childhood memorabilia that my parents brought with them when they came up here for Christmas. Which means I am officially moved out of my parents' house entirely. I don't have anything left there.

Three boxes of stuff I can't use is kind of a lot when you're looking at moving into a new place that has limited storage, so I decided to weed out those boxes and try to reduce the number as much as possible. I'm pretty ruthless about this, which might be traumatic for natural pack-rats. Feel free to look away if you must. It gets a little messy.

Basically, I had two rules: If I've used it in the last year, or it's obvious that I could use it with my children, I kept it. If it triggered a strong memory, I kept it. If I didn't pick something up and get thrown back into my childhood by it, I chucked it. And I ended up with only one box when I was done. Like I said. It got a little gory. Many childhood nicknacks have been sacrificed to the D.I. bag (and the unsuitable ones to the garbage bag) here today.

But then I came across these two:

Go figure they're practically staring up at me beseechingly.

And I had a little problem. Because they're probably my most treasured stuffed animals from before I was about six. Simba has a weird little tube in him that makes him purr when you squeeze him, and Hayley the Bunny Rabbit was a gift from my great aunt that I took everywhere with me. And because I was an adorable little girl, Simba and Hayley were usually married and had a slew of children that were puppies, tigers, bears, dragons, and, once, a turkey (???). I've pretty much tossed most of my other stuffed animals, but these two have survived 10 or more purges over the years.

They're bedraggled, well-loved by a child who loved cuddling with them, and I have very, very strong memories associated with them.

But I didn't have room.

Everything fit in one box (including some less well-loved stuffed animals that my kids will probably love) except them. From my own experience as a kid, I didn't really like playing with my mom's well-loved stuffed animals from her childhood, so I can pretty much guarantee that my kids won't want them, especially when newer, softer ones are available (and I have a few of those).

So what do I do?

Making them into a scrapbook-style memory seemed the most fitting tribute, so here I am.

Of course, now that I've written this post, a part of me wants to go home, pull them out of the D.I. bag, and find a way to make them fit into my one box of childhood.

Oh, nostalgia. You're a hard one to beat.