And so I said goodbye to the red dress

Man, I still remember how gorgeous I felt in that red dress!

By the time I’ve said the words, “Do you think I should get rid of this?” I already know the answer: Yes! Sometimes, though, I need a little push and that’s why I ask for it (my friends and husband usually deliver!). After decluttering my books once again over the weekend (always a painful process for this bibliophile) and then helping a friend begin the process of digitizing her filing system, I should have been more prepared than I was for the realization that it was time to let go of some of the dresses that have been haunting my closet for a decade or more.

If you’re on the minimalist bandwagon already, you know why the dresses have to go (if I haven’t worn them in 10 years or more, I’m unlikely to do so). Even if you’re not, you can probably agree that moving the dresses (which have already been moved to England, then back to Colorado, then to Finland) on to Germany next month is really a waste of space and resources.

As usual, I couldn’t just put the dresses in the ever-growing purge pile and be done with it; I had to ruminate. What I realized is that I’ve been hanging on to those dresses not because I ever hope to wear them again (let’s face it up-front–the post-baby tatas will never again gracefully fill a size 6 dress), but because they represent a time in my life when I was young and carefree, a time when I felt more like a sexy vixen and less like, well, the VP of the PTO.

Then I realized what I need isn’t a thing (the dress), but a feeling (I’m gorgeous!). While I was ruminating, Matt very sweetly offered to buy me “Red Dress 2.0.” I can’t say that I need another red dress, but the offer did give me the courage I needed to toss it, and its brethren, into the pile.

Decluttering Your Child’s Artwork

Some paintings created by my son Gabriel
I particularly like the colors in these two paintings by my son, Gabriel
I talked a bit in my post, Letting Go, about our recent attempts at getting rid of things that we don’t love, need, use. What if you love something, but it exists in such tremendous quantities that something has to be done about it? Christmas ornaments come to mind, but I’ll save that for a different post because what I want to talk about is my children’s artwork.

Let’s say we don’t put a crayon into our child’s hand until they are a year old (it was earlier than that for us!). That means that, when I began my decluttering adventure, I found roughly 8 years’ worth of artwork (combined total for two children) in a giant stack in my basement. We do craft projects nearly every day, and they spent part of every day of their preschool lives doing craft as well, so you can see how quickly that can multiply. Each piece is unique, captures their developmental milestones in visual format, and, especially now that my son writes “To Mommy” on almost every piece, is very difficult to let go.

And yet, I could not justify taking a three-foot stack of kids’ artwork to Helsinki with us. What to do, what to do? I turned to the “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” mantra for help with this tricky situation! Read more

Letting Go

The Joy of Less
One of the many books that inspired us to let go!
I’ve been absent from the blogging world for almost six months, but once again, I’m back! You can read more about why I’ve been gone on ChezArtz, but suffice it to say we’ve been busy. The turmoil of job insecurity and an upcoming trans-Atlantic move helped us begin the process of evaluating the choices we’ve made and the stuff we’ve accumulated in over 13 years together and start letting it go.

It wasn’t a pretty picture. Not only had a rather misplaced fear of not having enough money led me to work at a job that I didn’t love for the first five years of parenthood–years that I had always intended to spend at home with the children, but a fear of not having enough space for our growing family spurred us to buy a home that we now realize has more room than we could possibly need. Don’t get me wrong, I love our house. We built it, chose every detail of it, and still think it’s awesome. But it came with a price–a mortgage that kept us feeling like I needed to work when we both knew what was best for our family was to stay home. Read more