Once I decide to get rid of something- I want it gone from my house. The longer it stays in the house the more reason I find to hang onto it.
Yeah, I could make a few bucks here and there by selling my kids better outgrown clothing. Those barely worn Stride Rite shoes that I was dumb enough to pay retail for mock me silently from the hall closet where I stored them- in case I got the urge to ebay them. Hasn't happened for months and now I need them to go before the dust and shame can collect.
Tonight I gladly sent our Parent's As Teachers Lady off my children's unwanted wooden blocks. A month ago I railed at my husband for wanting to get rid of them. Those are the blocks that I spent hours building up so Big Girl toddler could knock them down. I have good memories of those blocks and the happy times spent with my only baby girl. My son could care less about blocks. He's a Choo Choo man and so my time with him is spent by putting train tracks together. In a few years it will probably be the wooden train tracks that I cling to tearfully.
Stuff is killing me. Today I spent half an hour searching on ebates for a good Cyber Monday deal to round out my Christmas shopping. I filled a "cart" with deals and promptly abandoned it because my heart wasn't in it. Like other people, I was thoroughly disgusted by the Black Friday tragedy at Wal-Mart. Stuff does not make you happy- in fact, the pursuit and maintenance of stuff can ruin your life.
My trash cans and recycling bin are overflowing with kid art, broken toys, and crumby plastic McDonalds/dentist/birthday bag/school party/parade trinkets. My washing machine is a dumping place for all Goodwill donations that I have found in the toy room. I won't be doing laundry until I make the drop off later in the week. I have never missed anything that I've donated or given away. And I know I won't miss those wooden blocks or anything else I've collected.