I just got back from our local citizens’ swap center – the place where you take the things nobody wants or will take – the things too good for the dump. I left two car seats. That’s particularly weird because my kids are now 11 and 7. I’m still trying to figure out why I kept the car seats for so long.
I live in a tiny house. My kids are regularly annoyed by my desire to weed out and pitch the stuff that we don’t love. There’s only so much room and I’m a firm believer that stuff doesn’t just clutter your house, it clutters your mind. We have a fine habit of periodically going through our stuff, deciding what we love, and then finding new homes for the stuff we can live without.
I have kept certain precious baby things – toys, and clothing items that are irresistible. I’m not a complete pragmatist. I do have my mushy spots about my kids. I can still remember how they smelled after they woke from a nap. I can still feel their warmth from carrying them everywhere in the Snuggli. I’ve kept the Snuggli, too.
But why have I kept the car seats?
I have one of those add-on rear-view mirrors that I can point in the direction of the back seat. I can monitor the touch fights, the hair pulling, and the eye-rolling. Mostly, I love looking in that mirror to see those sweet sleeping faces with the long lashes and the tiny noses. In all actuality, what I usually see in that little mirror is two cute kids picking their noses.
On my way back from the swap center I realized why I hadn’t parted with those seats. I looked in the rear-view mirror and remembered what those seats really meant to me. On my most desperate days – those days when I could do absolutely nothing right – I would look in the rear view mirror, see my sweeties buckled safely inside their car seats and I would fantasize about filling the tank with gas, grabbing sippy cups and heading out of town.
I honestly can’t tell you where I would have gone. I was in a desperate struggle to catch my breath and clear my head. I believed getting away would help me better see what I needed to do differently.
Escape was the only thing on my mind.
Those car seats gave me a false sense that at least my babies would be buckled and safe, and we could get away from all my failings.
We certainly have no need for car seats anymore. There’s no need to escape now. We made our move. I learned that all the failings weren’t mine. I don’t need the sense of safety, or the possibility of escape, that those car seats represented.
I am keeping that second rear-view mirror.
Tags: proactive
