In the attic of my mother-in-law, there’s a massive container filled with Legos, along with several boxes packed with remnants from my husband’s childhood. She’s holding onto these treasures, waiting for our children to reach an age where they can appreciate them and for us to find a larger home to store everything.
While it’s kind of nice that these items still exist, my kids won’t be waiting around for a bigger space to reclaim their childhood mementos because I have no intention of keeping them. No board books, no tattered dolls, no toddler hats, or small gloves. Once my children outgrow something, it’s off to a friend, someone in need, or Goodwill. I believe in passing things along to those who can use them rather than hoarding items that will eventually just gather dust.
It’s not that I’m unsentimental or uncaring; I simply embrace minimalism. Given that we move frequently, I see no point in carting around boxes that will likely end up tucked away, only to be rediscovered when my kids are old enough to “appreciate” them. Personally, I’m not one to cling to nostalgia, so I suppose I’m projecting my views onto my kids. After all, as their mother, I have the right to decide what stays and what goes.
If I hold onto drooled-on blankets and worn wooden blocks, what if my children turn out to be like me—unattached to material things? I would have wasted valuable time and space for no reason. I like to think that with trends like KonMari and the rise of tiny homes, my kids will grow up in a culture that values experiences over possessions.
In today’s digital age, where smartphones and social media store our memories in the Cloud, why keep dusty physical items when we can have digital photos capturing their growth from infancy to graduation? The essence of keeping things is to evoke memories, and a photograph can provide all the warm feelings without the clutter.
I also want my children to understand that attachments to material things can be fleeting. Items can be lost, broken, or simply lose their significance over time. My only real attachment is to my laptop because it supports my work; otherwise, I’d happily get rid of most of my belongings. What truly matters are relationships—family, friends, and helping those in need. People are irreplaceable and have a much greater impact on our lives than any worn-out stuffed animal ever could.
I’d prefer for my children to focus on nurturing connections and creating lasting memories with loved ones rather than burdening themselves with boxes of toys when they start their own lives. I recognize that others may feel differently, which is why I find my mother-in-law’s sentimental nature charming, but my kids will have to navigate life without a small box of baby teeth.
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Conclusion
In conclusion, while nostalgia can be endearing, I believe it’s essential to prioritize relationships and experiences over material possessions. My goal is to raise children who value people over things, fostering meaningful connections that will last a lifetime.