Reflection

The end of the year is supposed to be a time of reflection, right?  I've been reflecting lately on how motherhood has changed me as a person.  It's amazing to think how different I am in a few short months.  And I do feel the changes have been most dramatic since Wiggles birth, rather than since finding out I was expecting.

One of the big changes is my pack-rat-ish tendencies.  Thank goodness they've lessened.  I've struggled for years my entire life with the urge to save, preserve, and store everything.  I kept the boxes and packaging things came in.  I kept old movie stubs, receipts, clothing tags, etc.  Just in case.  And then there's the things that have meaning.  Like...old notes from an ex-boyfriend.  REALLY!?  Really.  I felt the need to keep them.  In a little box in the closet.  I scrapbook now, so that helps with some of the preservation of things in a nice way.  But I've just felt this strong need to keep STUFF my entire life.  At the same time, I've been incredibly frustrated by how this pull leads to clutter.  I don't actually like clutter.  I admire model homes and the like for their incredibly clean and uncluttered atmosphere.  But such an environment has been elusive at best with my pack-ratish tendencies.

Finally, finally, I've found myself changing in this respect.  It sounds cliche, but things are just no longer as important.  Now, there have been a few times already that I've recycled packaging only to regret it mildly later.  If I'd still had it I could have returned the object - but in the end, it didn't reallllly matter.  I guess this particular change started when I was pregnant - we got rid of a ton of stuff when we moved.  But since Wiggles was born I find myself looking over the apartment wondering what else we can do without.  I no longer feel compelled to keep gifts I have no use for (thanks MIL!) because they were a gift.

And, the best news for Wiggles and other future children, nieces and nephews - I no longer have such a strong tie with my toys.  Yes.  Toys.  I.....have a collection of lovely plastic toys (like Playmobil) that I have loved dearly and cared for meticulously.  And while one would assume it'd be natural to pass such a thing onto one's children, I had no intention of such.  No sir.  These toys were MINE.  Mr. Random thought it was quite ridiculous, but I brought the toys into the marriage so he could do little about it.  Guess what?  I'm now happy to pass them on.  When they no longer present a choking hazard, I hope Wiggles enjoys them.  And if we end up with children who have no interest in the more girly toys...I'll be happy to pass them on to a niece who would like them.  I think I nearly stopped Mr. Random's heart when I told him this.  This is a HUGE change in outlook for me.  And I couldn't be happier about it.