I’ve seen multiple articles lately about the boomer avalanche — all this stuff people have — and their kids not wanting it. I’m not a boomer, but at 46, I’m already aware that I have too much stuff.
Three recent events made me think about the burden our possessions would place on our kids if something happened to us. So I started decluttering so they don’t have to deal with my stuff.
I helped my mom downsize
The first event was helping my mom downsize.
She moved from a 2,000-square-foot townhome into a much smaller rental home. Doing a pre-move assessment, it was clear that all her stuff wouldn’t fit in the new place.
She saw it as an opportunity and spent two months purging, donating, and selling items.
When scoping out storage spots in her new home, my mom shared that she has a stack of boxes of stuff from her mom’s house. She doesn’t want it, but doesn’t feel like she can get rid of it, and has been holding onto it since her mom passed over 10 years ago.
My kids made sure grandma didn’t get rid of her little rocking chair. They both have memories of climbing on it at Grandma’s house. It’s now in our living room.
Sometimes, there are memories wrapped up in stuff
Decorating our house for the holidays was the second event that confirmed we have too much stuff.
Every year, my husband goes into our crawl space and hauls out a full 19 boxes of holiday decor — trees, lights, ceramic villages, wrapping paper. Our house ends up covered with holidays.
This year, when decorating, I decided to downsize and packed a giant box with ornaments, tablecloths, mugs, and random decorations we haven’t put up in years.
During this process, I was reminded how important it is to check before donating. My husband noticed a few decorations from his mom in the “donation box.” We’re keeping them. We may not display them, but there are memories in those figurines.
I asked my kids what they wanted us to keep for them. Stockings, our Advent calendar, and the holiday village — each of them had items they associated with their holiday memories. These things will never go into the donation box.
Our stuff can be so valuable to others
During our remodel last year — event three — my youngest and I learned how much the things we have sitting on a shelf can mean to someone else. My child’s donation of stuffed animals made a huge difference to volunteers and children at a local soup kitchen.
We had a repeat experience this year, but this time with tablecloths. I have too many tablecloths. The last count was over 20. Even if I can’t get laundry done for weeks, that is many more than we need. I challenged myself to get rid of half of them.
A friend who volunteers at a shelter and soup kitchen happily took the donation. A few weeks later, we learned those tablecloths had a new life as blankets for a family of four who were living in their car at the time.
I have a process to downsize my wardrobe
Remodeling our house was the most eye-opening demonstration of how many things we have. Our storage space is still crammed with stuff that didn’t make it back into the house after the remodel.
Finding a place for everything during the renovation was a huge challenge. We quickly realized we couldn’t fit 50% of our belongings (three bedrooms and my office) in the other 50% of our house.
Taking up the most space — the items in my closet, which filled my entire soccer-mom-sized SUV.
So today, for every new thing I add, I donate at least two items. I’ve designated a section of my closet for things I haven’t worn, and when the seasons change, anything in that section goes. And — the most fun — I invite friends to come “shop” in my closet.
Some things are my memories, not my kids’
In my office are multiple items that remind me of my grandma.
One of my favorite memories is being at her house, spending hours poring over her high school and college yearbooks.
When it was clear the end was near for her, she had me take those yearbooks from the nursing home. She barely remembered who she was, but she remembered how much those books meant to me.
Seeing those yearbooks evokes memories of her, keeping her alive in my mind. But they are my memories of her, not my kids’.
And that’s really the thing, isn’t it? Wrapped up in all this stuff are memories and maybe a bit of guilt about getting rid of it.
So, I will keep cleaning out that closet, clearing out the storage unit, and reducing our holiday decor, but one day, my kids may have to get rid of those yearbooks.
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