How Minimizing My Kids’ Baby Stuff Made Me a Better Mom
I am beyond excited to share my latest guest post on the amazing minimalism and motherhood blog AllieCasazza.com! Allie is a force of nature in the minimalism space, and you don’t need to be a mom to appreciate her straight-shooting, but tender writing and her awesome decluttering resources.
It’s an honor to share this post on her blog today about how I tackled decluttering my most precious possessions – my kids’ baby clothes. After struggling with infertility for years and receiving two miracle babies, I thought I’d never let go of anything that represented the first days, months, and years of my sweet girls.
The simple and soul life can surprise us sometimes.
There is a brand new resource as well to help declutter your home and your soul, so be sure to check out the post!
CLICK HERE TO READ THE FULL POST ON ALLIECASAZZA.COM
I stood in the garage, hands on my hips and my weight shifting from one leg to the other. What if, I asked myself, I just never come in here again? That might work. I’ll just forget we have a garage at all.
Eighteen months ago, at the start of this minimalism journey, I said this was the place I’d never touch. This was the forbidden area – the corner with my kids’ baby stuff. It wasn’t bothering anyone, neatly stacked with Tetris precision over there… no need to worry about it. Minimalism doesn’t need to go that far.
Yet, there I stood in the center of our garage, all other garage clutter removed, and I realized I’d reached a chasm in my compartmentalized philosophy: is partial freedom enough?
It was time to get serious. Not because minimalism is about getting rid of all the things, but because my “never-get-rid-of-stuff” was holding me hostage in my own motherhood.
If I’ve learned anything from minimalism it’s that minimalism questions everything. It’s not shy to call out the stuff I’ve refused to surrender. I had to choose: go farther, deeper, and wider with my minimalism than I thought possible, or cut this trip short, pick up my chains, and go back inside.
The impossibly small onesies, the party dresses hardly worn, the first family photo outfits, and bins of all the things my babies used for every ‘first’ up to this point of their lives. Along with the cradle, the sensory toys, the high chair, swing and bouncer, and swaddling bags and blankets. Wraps and carriers, footie pajamas, and handmade summer dresses from Great Grandma.
Were these the things that my freedom teetered on?
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