I am a clean it up and get rid of it type person. Quite frequently I have told my family that they better look like they are contributing to the cause because, anyone or anything not contributing is going to get thrown out. Taking a load to goodwill or a dump run first thing in the morning is, in my opinion, a perfect way to start the day! When I go into a cleaning rampage my husband and children suddenly become very protective of their belongings and extremely suspicious every time I am seen carrying a garbage bag out to the garage. Their concerns may or not may be warranted.

Why then, I have asked myself for the last several years, have I not been able to bring myself to get rid of the baby and kids clothes that I have dutifully put into plastic totes and labeled. Where I was storing the clothes could not have been more organized. Plastic totes, stacked neatly, that were clearly labeled and ready for the next baby. But for nearly six years I have known in my heart that there was not going to be another baby. I just couldn’t close the door on that phase of life and getting rid of all those clothes seemed so final.

I held onto them for so long that the idea of getting rid of them seemed overwhelming. But due to life circumstances it was time to move on and get rid of them. I sold some at a garage sale and donated the rest to people who were thrilled to have them and could not have been more appreciative. I am embarrassed to admit what a mix of emotions it stirred up in me. On the one hand it felt good to be getting rid of them but each time I was bagging them up or putting them out for the yard sale it stirred up so many emotions that a phase of life (a phase I had loved) had come to an end. I love being a mom and I love having a house full of kids. The idea that this will come to an end has been far harder for me to accept than I ever imagined.

A few months ago I was trying to make more room in our house. We have truly outgrown our house and it is a constant game of tetras to make things fit. In one of these attempts to shuffle things around I saw the bookcase with rows and rows of board books and a surge of energy filled the room. I don’t read the board books on a daily basis like I had for 20 plus years. I could box them up and make a considerable amount of space for school books. I found a box and went to work. Well… I planned to go to work. I put a few board books in the box and then I just couldn’t do it. Every book was filled with so many memories of rocking and reading with a little one. My children’s love of books and being read aloud to started with Pajama Time and Dinosaur Roar. I had read these books hundreds and hundreds of times. Some have been taped so much to hold them together that they are more tape than book. Others have entire corners gnawed off and look terrible – no, not terrible – loved and used.

These books filled my heart with love for my kids, my husband, stories, and time spent reading and rocking instead of washing dishes. The stack of board books was also a trophy of something done right. I realized I needed those books on a shelf to remind me that I have done some things right. With all the shortcomings I can point to as a mom, I had in front of me, one thing I had done well. I had read and read and read to my kids from the time they were tiny and in those moments they had fallen in love with stories. They had come to love me and learned that in life I would be a source of comfort and love. They also learned that I would do anything for them including, but not limited to, being willing to read their favorite story again and again and again.

The clothes are gone and, sadly, the board book phase of life is over. But the board books have earned a permanent spot on the book case. My trophy and reminder that amongst all the mistakes, I am giving it my all, and maybe, I hope, getting it right more than I realize.