Sentimentality is certainly a strange and invasive beast. It attacks your functionality, you don’t even see coming for you until you’re caught up in the woes of something random and totally unexpected. I’m not an overly sentimental person – I have enough trouble keeping my house sufficiently decluttered to hang onto large chunks of the past that take up space in my home and my heart. I have trouble with sentiment – it comes from places that are very warm and very happy, but for some reason, they hurt like hell.
The first time I really noticed an overwhelming wave of sentimentality was about a year ago. I had done some very thorough spring cleaning and was in the process of finally actually getting rid of all of the random crap that had piled up between baby #1 and baby #2. On another note real quick — it amazes me how quickly and arbitrarily baby equipment goes from being perfectly safe and great to use to being an APA certified death trap. There were only 3 years between the kids, but somehow all of our stuff that we could have potentially used for the second child “expired” or something idiotic happened to someone somewhere for doing something stupid with said product causing a wave of litigation, warning labels and recalls… heh, nothing lasts forever, and that’s a guarantee! But anyhow, back to spring cleaning — the point was I had a lot of large baby equipment that I was throwing away due to the fact that it couldn’t be reused or donated.
Finally, I rounded up all of the random obtrusive useless pieces of crap that had been cluttering up our house for months… or even years. I was fine. I put everything in a trash can and put it out next to the curb for trash pickup the next morning. I was still fine.
The next morning I happened to be standing in the living room, looking out at the still full trashcan sitting on the curb — the trash hadn’t been collected yet, despite the fact that it was almost noon. I saw the tip of my daughter’s turtle baby bathtub — something that she hadn’t been able to even fit in for at least two years, and we had stopped using it when she was only 8 months old. At that point, she was almost 4 — needless to say, the baby bathtub needed to go.