These boys have me ready to pull my hair out. And I am really trying not to scream, become hopping mad (I might though, good way to expend pent-up frustrations), or pull my hair out. It’s too thin as it is.

For some reason, they no longer think they have to pick up their toys when Joe or I ask. I’m getting to just toss almost all of them (ok, not really throw them away, just put in the attic or somewhere they can’t get at them, until we have a bigger house with a play) and just keep half of the cars and half of the Duplos.  And maybe 2 stuffed animals a piece. That way when they decide not to pick up there’s not that much for me to do. Arg! But then they would fight over stuff even more. Double Arg!

We need to pare down on all the “crap” we have around the house anyways. I am really bad about not getting rid of stuff that is still useful, just maybe not to me.  Always have been. (I blame my dad. I got my love of learning, somewhat of a mechanical mind, procrastination habit, and pack-rat-ness from him.) Most of what we are overflowing with are clothes and books. There’s a few other things that we have mass amounts of but those 2 win by a high margin. And none of our houses are like those you would see in Hoarders. Watching that show usually makes me feel better about my mess. Just boxes and boxes of stuff in closest, attics, and basements. (Storage space is a must when we look for a new house)

Like Dad (or anyone else that lived in my childhood home), I can’t bear to toss books out. I can hardly stand to drop off a box at the library or resale shop for fear they will never be looked after and read by anyone else. I also like to rescue books, especially old ones. I haven’t been to any used book sales for a couple of years, partially because of the boys (can’t just browse and keep them from toppling stacks) and because I don’t have room for $50 of  5-50 cent books in this little house. (But if we ever have our own house, I will have a library) I’ve had boxes given to me, full of romance novels (something I usually don’t  read. But there are a few authors that write mysteries sprinkled with “adult” scenes that fall into that category), and put them on my book shelves so that they aren’t hidden away somewhere in the dark. I know. I am strange. I am one of those people who get emotionally attached to characters in novels. It takes me a few hours, if not days, to come back totally  from an especially emotional read (I live life but will sometimes find myself crying from say The Fault in Our Stars). I will pass some on to others I know will read them (like the romance novels to Mom). But most I will read and reread until the binding breaks and the covers fall off.

The clothes are two other stories.

The first are mine (and Joe’s). I have a bunch of tee-shirts that I don’t wear anymore from sports I played or from places I’ve been (his are old band and car ones) that I want to make a quilt out of one day. Those take up a majority of  the little space that we have here. And there are a smattering of maternity clothes that I was almost constantly in for 3 years. The rest I guess you could consider semi-classic pieces: solid color fitted tee-shirts, jeans, dressy blouses, dresses and skirts that don’t go out of fashion quickly, plus a few seasonals. But when those get worn out, I can’t toss them. I feel some need to hold on to them, to try to make something new out of them. Then there’s those that I *might* fit back into one day (at least 20 lbs to go). I’m working on it, so keep your fingers crossed for me. (No, just pray for me to find the strength get rid of the clothes!)

The other are the boys. It’s really hard to get rid of some of theirs. I received several diaper boxes full when I was pregnant with Joey from a couple different people. Some of those the boys never wore because they were such chunks when they were born. There’s 2 large diaper boxes full of baby baby clothes that haven’t seen the light of day. Other, that goes along with the maternity clothes, is that a new baby every 14 months I couldn’t get rid of them. If there was a onsie that I just couldn’t get clean or I dyed pink. (Don’t wash shop towels with anything but other shop towels and run an empty load after.) But even now (20 months and no new baby! hooray!), I feel like if I get rid of all the baby clothes, I’ll jinks myself and have to start all over again. Yeah, there’s something wrong with my brain. It’s usually pretty logical, but around this it’s not.  But maybe, if there ever is a new baby on the way, it’ll be a girl! Hahaha. I am not ready for that.

Is there anything that you just can’t bear to part with?


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