Moving Up

We are in the midst of March Madness at our house. Our madness however has nothing to do with a sport, unless you consider moving sporting.  It is a complete mess over here. I promise, Noah had it easier getting the ark ready to go than we do getting all this junk sorted, trashed, given away, packed, and moved. I hate this process. I am the pack rat of the family. I want to keep it all, pack it, store it, never to see it again! But don't you dare get rid of it. I WANT it! I may NEED it. Anyone who has known me for six months or more and is reading this (hi Mom), is dying laughing right now at how true this really is. However, I am so tired of seeing all the clutter and piles. Our whole lives have become clumps of mess. The garage, the shed, closets, corners of the rooms, counter tops, desk tops, flat surfaces; the list could go on and on. I.Am.Done. No more. Its time to purge. Of course, I want to purge when we have like 3 days to go, and we still have 2 weeks worth of stuff to do. But hey; I never said my timing was great. 

So The Great Purge of 2017 is on. My daughter is amazed. "What about these shoes Mom. They were favorites of yours. They'll fit Marian in a year or two." "Keep them. Wait! NO! Stop it. Get rid of them. If no one can wear it at by the cold weather change, its going.!" She kept standing there, unsure if I was serious, or if she would be in trouble later when I figured out the shoes were gone.  Here's the secret. After years of hoarding all this stuff, I have no idea what I kept and what I didn't.  I haven't seen most of it in years. And won't see it for many more unless I start sorting the mess.  So off it mostly all goes. There are plenty of children in this area that barely have clothes to cover them, and I have sheds full of stuff my children will never wear because I'll never remember to pull out the stuff I saved for that someday down the road. I'm even going to sort my hand made stuff. GASP! I don't need every pair of PJs I've made for Christmas the last 10 years. I don't need all the dresses I ever made for Jeffie Jean. I even have dresses I made for my niece boxed up! They were made to use; it's time they get used! 

Here's the thing.  All this time, this stuff has been useless.  We couldn't get to most of it, it was stored horridly, and was unusable.  And it started encroaching on our everyday lives. We couldn't all get in the living room without moving piles so we could watch a movie together. My nightly ritual to go to bed consisted of moving piles from my bed to my chair.  The kids were no different. They couldn't ever play with their toys much because of all the mess of stuff being all over. We are social people, but haven't had anyone inside our house for a couple years. We have been crippled, really. We don't function as we should. I could list so many things that are effected. Children who aren't responsible, who don't clean up after themselves or care for their belongings. Adults who are forgetful, irresponsible, and excuse laden. Finances are effected. Emotions effected. The list could continue.

So here we are, at an impasse.  And its time to not carry the baggage with us if you will. I'm not moving all the mess!! Change is coming. It's inevitable. And this should be a simple break. Out with the old ways and the old house, in with new ways and a new house. It will be simple, but hard. I mean, how can I not live with the plastic allergy band I wore in the hospital when Heathie was born?! And who is going to love Jeffie Jean's tiny, chipped, jewelry box as much as I did? (you know, the one that has been at the bottom of a packed junk box for the last four years) Oh, there will be important things kept, no doubt. I'm not expert level yet. You can't make me get rid of the stuffed bull that kept vigil over Heathie's NICU bed, even if it was partially shredded by a dog. Or the little "Mr. Mischief" shirt Anderson nearly wore out, but completely defines his toddlerhood. But I don't need all their coats, shoes, ties, etc. I don't need my maternity clothes from 1998 when I only weighed 100 pounds (yes, I hate me too). One might say our theme this week might be, "Let it Go", but I'm going with "Movin' Out"!