Earlier this week, I was sorting out some baby stuff to get rid of. I still think about maybe having another baby, but I know we probably won’t and it seems mad to hang on to stuff on the off-chance, and I’m doing the big declutter, so it had to go. There was a pram, the Amby Hammock, the steriliser and the Tummy Tub. Now we only used the Tummy Tub a few times, but when David saw it in the “out” pile, he said, “Not the Tummy Tub!” That’s because of this:
I put all the items on Freecycle and they were snapped up instantly and out of the house within the hour. When the man who picked them up knocked at the door, Harry clutched the Tummy Tub and sobbed. Joe is 2 and a half. No one has even seen the flippin’ thing for at least two years (it’s been at the back of a cupboard) and, let’s face it, it’s practically a bucket, but half the members of the family did not want to see it go. (I only really get sentimental about clothes and Joe couldn’t care less.)
Later the same day, me and the boys were heading out for a walk when we stopped to watch a skip being delivered to the house next door. Our 86-year-old neighbour, Nancy, went into a home* last year. When we got back from the walk, the skip was full. Nancy lived there for 65 years. She was married for more than 60 (her husband died a few years ago) and raised a daughter there. I know it’s just stuff – and it wasn’t even anything personal: it was carpets, chopped up cupboards and units, a bath mat – but seeing it in the skip made me weepy.
Joe still wasn’t arsed, though…
* it’s down south, close to her family. I’ve got their number, but I can’t bring myself to ring because I don’t want to hear that she’s died. I’m going to pretend she’s happy down there forever.