Selling our memories…

Even though I had to make the appointment to sell some of our baby gear months ago — apparently we are not the only ones “selling our memories” these days — and I knew that the day was coming, I was still a total wreck the whole drive over to the used baby store this week. I just kept thinking: “Wait a minute, what if Greta wants that baby sling for her dollies?” or: “Those pants aren’t that short on her, are they?”

But the truth is, Greta had officially outgrown everything I had in the back of our car months ago…including the sweet little Co-Sleeper she slept in the first few months of her life. Actually, I think she might have slept in it for a whole year or more (she’s a little on the small side), but, in any case, the Co-Sleeper was, by far, the hardest item to part with.

I mean, sure, I had fond memories of the clothes — her first tiny rain boots, some awesome pajamas and dresses and stuff — but that frigging Co-Sleeper just ripped my heart out, man. At first I thought maybe it was because it was so damn expensive — it’s actually a Mini Co-Sleeper for parents with smaller apartments, so it has special-order Mini sheets and shit — but, the truth is, that was one of the first things we bought for Greta before she was born and I had grown unhealthily attached to it.

It was also the first thing I set up when she came home from the hospital and I know it sounds stupid, but, having Greta sleep in that little brown, organic-cotton, Mini Co-Sleeper while tethered to our bed made those first few weeks a whole lot less scary. I mean, truth be told, she coulda still died in her sleep in that thing too, but, in my mind, the odds of one of us hearing her choke and gag to death in time to save her were that much better if we were just a bed roll away from her. Crazy logic, I know, but, it helped me sleep better that first year. Yes, I was worried about SIDS for a year. Frankly, I kinda still am. That shit is so freaky…yikes!

So, I’m standing there, knee-deep in golden, mostly-exaggerated memories of Greta’s first days on Earth and I realize that I simply cannot sell the Mini Co-Sleeper to this woman. No way. No how. The Co-Sleeper is off the table, chica. To make matters worse, her assistant manager set it all up to check on its condition and shit, and, I swear to God, that sweet little crib looked just as cute and snuggly as the day we bought it. Urgh…why God, why? Seriously, I could barely look at it without choking up.

And then I realized that, memories aside, the time to part with the Co-Sleeper was now. We had tried and failed to sell it at two previous garage sales — try telling that crowd about the value or special-order organic sheets! — and I knew that if we were ever gonna sell the Co-Sleeper, this was the place and time to do it.

So, we haggled a bit over the price — Mrs. Yeti and I had agreed to not let it go for less than $40 — but the best they could offer was $30. And seeing as it was just taking up room in the garage, I figured $30 was better than a kick in the head. So, I took one last picture of Greta’s first little bed and then promptly sold it for thirty bucks.

All totaled, we made $90 — which definitely lessened the blow! — but, I’ll tell ya, my inner-hoarder will be missing that Mini Co-Sleeper till he dies…so sad…

People need to be pruning their shit, yo…

OK, maybe I’m just saying this because we are more than halfway through our vacation up here in Oregon and we are still helping my Mother-in-Law unpack her belongings from the move. Yep, part one of the vacation involved the helpful side of my wife’s family (don’t get me started on that other half!), Greta, my wife and I, a moving truck, two cars and four sweaty-ass days of moving. And yes, it was as totally not fun as it sounds.

But what really made things suck was the fact that my very sweet Mother-in-Law — really, she is the best and I love her to death under normal circumstances — had failed to prune anything from her vast collection of crafting gear. I’m not kidding, man, if you took the time to actually create something from every scrap of fabric, yarn and crafting paper in that damn moving truck, you could clothe an entire city for a year. Or, you know, maybe a small island community. But still, it was a lot of shit!

And you wanna know what sucked even worse than the sheer volume of shit we moved? Now that we’re unpacking her shit, my Mother-in-Law has decided that she is finally ready to part with tons of it. Hmmm…that kind of thinking would have been so much more helpful, you know, before we loaded your boxes onto a truck and moved you to another state! Oy…

Anyway, having just gone through something similar with another aging relative, all I can say is: “People need to be pruning their shit, yo…” We have had two garage sales recently and every time we have one, my wife and I prune more shit from our already cluttered garage. And yeah, it sucks to get rid of stuff you love or loved, or thought you could never live without, but, man alive, it sucks even worse to have to wade through someone else’s boxes of insanity later on down the road. So, do you loved one’s a favor, people, and please, for the love of God…prune your shit!

Alright, this concludes my anti-hoarding rant for the day. Thanks for reading!