I’ve spent the last two days OBSESSED. What began as an attempt to organize my kids’ memorabilia turned into this:
I was supposed to be working on tax business, not generating a hefty donation pile. Not to mention the garbage. But there’s something cathartic about this sort of purge and I guess I lost myself in the process.
What prompted it was talk of sorting through Grandma’s memorabilia; a sentimental like me, she kept everything. Years ago I’d given her a journal full of questions, telling her I expected it to be full by the time she passed away. (She was indeed writing in it and even showed me once during a visit.) But alas, now the time has come and the location of said journal is a mystery. Something about it made me feel like I had to get my stuff organized right now, so that my own family could easily locate important stuff when the time comes.
Like drawings & cards & special outfits & handwritten notes & lovies & birthday candles & favorite books.
My goal has always been to give each boy their own memorabilia box. Bits and pieces of things special to them (and me!) over the years. Part of their story. For example, here’s a picture of my youngest right before we brought him home from the hospital.
And here’s the little outfit he wore.
My husband also picked up a newspaper for each child on the day they were born. Which is stashed in the box along with everything else.
All tucked neatly into these slick – but no longer available – Creative Memories boxes (though I did recently spy one on Etsy).
I plan to keep a box for myself as well – though mine is in need of a thorough sifting.
Like it or not, we just can’t keep everything. Well… we could, but eventually someone will need to sort through it. And I guess for my family, I’d like that “someone” to be me.