My children are busy cleaning out their rooms. It all started when my husband built a desk for my younger child, who will enter middle school in three weeks’ time. The introduction of the desk into the bedroom necessitated a certain amount of reshuffling and uncluttering. My older son wanted in on this game. So now the boys blur past me as they carry toys, books, chairs, and lamps to the basement, which is fast becoming impassable. My ten-year-old brings me a pile of books and slaps it down on the kitchen counter. “Do you want to keep these, or give them away?,” he asks. I am silent. He grows impatient, tapping his foot and sighing.
But I am dumbstruck. Here in front of me are treasured books, books he once loved so, books I once loved so. My son seems to understand my conundrum, and, with a softer tone, he points out that he is just too old for these books. I nod and tell him to put them in the basement. Is that because I’ll want to pore over them, someday, or because he will? I can’t tell.
My fourteen-year-old takes down a print of the Mona Lisa that had been hanging on his wall. We’d bought it at the Louvre last summer, when we visited Paris. “It’s not that it’s bad art, Mom,” he argues, by way of explanation, “but it’s just obvious. It’s too well known, you know? Overrated.” I nod. My mouth, fish-like, opens, then closes. It’s been doing that a lot lately.
And I haven’t even mentioned the dinosaur sheets. How my teen used to love dinosaurs. Once, at the Museum of Natural History in New York, when he was perhaps six, he and I watched some fourth and fifth graders, city kids, on a tour of the dinosaur exhibits. “Who knows,” asked the guide, “what the word ‘pterodactyl’ means, literally?” The question fell on silence, until my son yelled, “Winged lizard!” “Right!,” beamed the tour guide, without realizing that the child who’d answered her question wasn’t even a member of her assigned group.
That same kid slept in dinosaur bedding for years. A year or two ago, while making his bed, I told him that when he was ready for different sheets, he should let me know, and I’d be happy to buy him some new ones. He agreed. Last week, he told me that his friends had been teasing him about his sheets, and he wanted a new set, a set absent dinosaurs. I laughed. “About time,” I proclaimed. And then we went to Target and bought him some solid navy bedding. At the store a man browsing in the bedding aisle offered my tall son this: “Good luck in college.” “Not quite college yet,” I murmured, shocked.
Today I am washing and folding that dinosaur bedding, in preparation for… well, I’m not sure, exactly. I want the bedding, which is still in wonderful shape, to go to a child with dinosaurs in his, or her, eyes, to go to a child who knows the meaning of the word ‘pterodactyl’ and forty other facts about pterodactyls, besides.
No, what I really want is to see that boy again, the one who hated to leave the Museum of Natural History, the one who made sure to stop at each and every set of dinosaur bones when it was time to go, to say, “Goodbye, plesiosaur, goodbye, velociraptor, see you next time.”
With one son set to begin middle school and the other high school in fewer than twenty days, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of the one-way signs posted along time’s road. I watch each of my children asserting himself, rejecting somebody else’s notion of his identity and staking out new territory. I watch my children’s rooms being transformed from childhood sanctuaries to teen lairs that will serve to define their maturing selves to their friends. I watch my children as they expand their own worlds, minute by minute, book by book, toy by toy, painting by painting. I can think of nothing to do. Witless, I continue opening and closing my mouth, waiting for words that never do arrive.
awww, now i’m gonna cry. my kids cleaned out a bunch or books and i had to rescue to treasures from the thrift store pile. my girl is done with her american dolls. she shaves her legs. boo. :-(
Wahhhhhhhh.
My daughters still have their children’s books and, I think, their Barbie dolls. The YD has all her dollhouse furniture, maybe. The ‘maybe’ is due to the fact that she asked me to store it for her some years ago, but I cannot now find it. They hid this stuff during their teens, but resurected it all as adults. I hope you have a big basement, as my word on it would be to store every precious article. I have the ED’s bedding from university, too. Still in great shape and her daughter is using it.
All this, and I do not think of myself as a hoarder. Gilmours are horders. I guess I am the curator. (Goodbye ‘Ballet Shoes’, Goodbye Babar) The grandkid has an amazing book collection, some original Wizard of Oz books (they were my aunt’s) included.
I found it fascinating to watch the metamorphosis from caterpillar to teen and especially hilarious to see the cocoons they made for the transition. I took photos, in fact.
The boy who loved dinos is still there, I believe. You’ll see him again from time to time.
What a wonderful piece of writing on how mothers feel.
Aw. I know this day is coming, but we’re still in the KEEP ABSOLUTELY EVERTHING phase. I could edit the books, but she will have no part of it.
My son’s bedroom was the previous homeowner’s library. It has floor to ceiling bookcases, so there’s plenty of room for all their childhood books to stay. I still have the Scholastic paperbacks from my school years. But the rest…well, I become ever more selective because we have little storage in this house but also because the older my children get, the less *I* connect to their younger selves. I *remember* but I don’t mourn. I love who they are right now, poised on the edge of adulthood, and I treasure my memories, but I never wish they were younger, smaller, anything other than where they are right now.
I think calling the Mona Lisa “obvious” is one of my favorite bits of art criticism ever. I can’t quite believe how old your kiddos are.
I’m totally crying right now. I just saw myself with my mouth open, not knowing quite what to say, in a few years. Ooof. (Lovely, Sarah)
I loved the teen years, so funny!
Mother Nature is kind in the end.
Linda
I still have babies; my oldest is six. But I can already see the beginning of the end on the horizon. Thank you for reminding me not to wish this all away.
You’ve pinpointed the precise reason why I will never be able to downsize my house. Too much of their lives — the lives I can’t seem to let go of — live on among their outgrown things.
Beautiful, dear Sarah. Thanks for making me weep again.
you know what i think? i think at some point he’s going to want those dinosaur sheets in the same way i just have to be able to peek at the colorful, printed pattern of my old strawberry shortcake sheets that peek out from the other linens in my closet. i think he’ll pick up those old books and remember how much he loved them, and love them all over again. ((hugs))
I am here with you, in this time. My mouth opens, then shuts. All the freakin’ time.
We are currently commiting a cardinal sin by selling the family home. I have 3 twenty-somethings, our son is married, and they act like we are selling the Smithsonian! I suppose for them we are. Keep what you can. They need perspective to assign value to the past and that comes with age. Soul stirring writing as usual Sarah.
My husband had a mountain bike accident this weekend – he’ll be fine! – and my younger son (9-going-on-15) drove to the hospital with me. As we walked across the car park I almost ached with longing for him to hold my hand – a practice he abandoned long ago. It made me wonder who had needed it more. This boy, who lavished me with affection in his younger days, commented this morning that receiving a kiss from one’s mother when all that was happening was departure for school was “a bit extreme.” The books have been culled already, but my beloved Moomintrolls still score a place – surely not for much longer, as they don’t really fit with the guitar amps beside the bookshelf. Ah, but I loved this post!!
Save it all. We both know that after they graduate college, reuniting with these items will give them a great sense of excitement and nostalgia. I know I re-bought several of my childhood books that I threw out in high school. One day, Curious George becomes cool again.
Lovely piece of writing. I can just see your son at the Natural History Museum. I’m sure he’ll remember his dinosaur sheets whether you physically keep them or not. Love what your eldest said about the Mona Lisa print.
My son’s (nearly 13) bedroom has also gone through a transition lately. He’s as sentimental as me and didn’t want to get rid of any old drawings or school books so up in the loft they went. But still, down came all the Doctor Who and Star Wars stuff and up went Banksy prints (graffiti artist) and The Bunny Suicides and Manga. It really is like watching them shedding a skin and finding their own way.
But the man thinking it was bedding for college? Now, I am crying!
This is a great post! I don’t have kids but I’d imagine all you can do during these transitions is witness and marvel at who they’re becoming. …or maybe save a scrap of dino pillowcase for the scrapbook.
Congrats on being Freshly Pressed! Well deserved.
What a beautiful, moving tribute. I have a 12-year-old and a 10-year-old, so I can relate. In my situation, I share custody of them with my ex in 2 week on/off increments — making EVERY moment, every stage, every expression, every bit of minutiae so completely important to me. I do hope I’ll never reach a storage capacity limit of “precious memories” like I ultimately will with space in my home!
I guess we are simply blessed beyond measure to have them — and must treasure every tidbit of their essence as much as possible. Congrats on being able to express such incredible depth of emotion! :)
I have no kids, but I remember my own declutterings so clearly – and oh, how I wish I hadn’t given those books away! Now I’m trying to track down those out-of-print books that I considered childish and embarrassing then, but looking back, they helped shape who I am… now I want to read them again and revisit my younger self.
Love this! Three years ago I became a grandpa. Somehow the depth of three generations reduces the blow of the push of time. I remember driving my youngest to college and realizing how important that 1,000 miles of one-on-one was…and how final it was. For them to grow up is what we want, and what we hate.
Your writing is outstanding, it makes my heart heavy…
great piece by piece . . . and blow by blow recording of family happennings . . . great writing and scripting of children’s moving on to another level . . . thank you sarah for opening your home and heart to the world
Oh, what a beautiful post! The mental image of the one-way sign just about wrecked me, though.
Congratulations on being Freshly Pressed. I hope your writing brings joy to many, many people!
This is so beautifully written. Although my sons are just 9 and 11, I already mourn the times that are now lost…the way my youngest used to put on magic shows and say “Apare to be amazed” and the way my oldest used to use the sandbox and water hose in the backyard to create dinosaur lands for his plastic model dinos. Congrats on being Freshly Pressed. You deserve it!
What a lovewly post! I am right where you are. It is such a bittersweet time of saying good-bye to childhood and marveling at the incredible individuals our big kids are becoming. Congrats on being Freshly Pressed!
A lovely post! I think we hold on to meaningful objects from our children’s childhood as consolation prizes for times now past.
Sitting on top of a shelf in my basement is a large paper-mache Seal pup that my daughter made in 4th grade. She just loved Seals that year!
. . . Now my daughter lives in another state . . . and I have conversations with the Seal about those childhood memories when I am doing laundry in the basement.
Namaste!
I can also relate to your post. My daughters are 17 and 18, and have long been only partially in my life. It’s so hard not feeling like a mommy anymore. All the old toys are long gone. Luckily, my daughters still like me to massage their feet or play with their hair. I just miss them not being around much anymore, and not wanting to talk with me unless it’s to do something for them. Peace!
So well put! I am not even a mother yet, and yet I feel like I can completely relate to everything you’re saying. With 3 younger sisters (all of which grew up while I was away at college), I often find myself wishing I could a) hit rewind, and then b) press pause… even if just for a moment. I somehow believe if I could go back again and take a look from where I stand today: smell the smells, feel the textures, relive the moment, I would appreciate it more, understand it as sacred and treat it as such, carry it with me today. But who knows, am I doing this currently, in the here and now? I suppose all any of us can do is try. Unfortunately, there is no remote control for real life. Thanks for this. Congrats of FP!
Mmmm. Lovely post. I can smell the dust on those treasures from here. Save it all, if you have room.
If you really, really don’t, then take it to the charity shop.
Someone will love it even if they don’t right now.
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I read this after dropping my youngest off at kindergarten for the first time and my oldest at middle school for the first time. What a timeless sentiment you expressed. Beautifully done!
I have no children, but this was a very sweet and touching read nonetheless. As a kid growing up, my sister and I could not decorate our rooms to our taste. Yellow floral wallpaper, sheer yellow curtains, canopies and yellow gingham bedding. To this day, I hate yellow. It’s so important to let your kids create their own space (to a degree!).
My husband’s mother is an extremely sentimental person and is one who cannot part with a single thing – she has several outbuildings on their property full of DH and his sister’s things from childhood. None of which my DH wants. To her, throwing it away means she doesn’t treasure the memory. To us, the memories are intact and the things are not needed. Just a warning to be selective!
wow
I had a harder time with this than my mom did. I was in high school when she finally replaced the torn, beat up wallet she had used my entire life. It needed to be replaced, but I was upset. And then, speaking of dinosaurs, I had a dinosaur shirt that I absolutely loved as a small child. It mysteriously disappeared when I grew out of it.
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