Ever since the basement flooded a few summers ago, the contents of my basement have been packed in boxes stacked in the middle of what should be a family room.
Everything is on an orange tarp, in boxes, in the way. The job is overwhelming and I have a lot of other things on my plate so I have been ignoring it for years. Like other people who have hoarding and guilt issues, if you glaze your eyes over the piled up boxes and "things" you have to go through, you don't actually have to deal with it. If, however, you happen to make eye contact with the mess, then it starts to haunt you like a poltergeist. Boxes topple over, toys fling themselves across the floor and you run away from the tower of shame, taking refuge in your tidy-in-comparison upstairs.
But you know that it is there - mocking you.
The box of cross-stitch supplies that you got from your grandma because she asked you if you liked crafts. The box with the random collection of "keepsakes" from grade school that you feel weird about throwing out. Eighteen boxes of assorted wires and cables that you feel compelled to keep. The boxes of clothes that the kids have outgrown and I couldn't immediately part with. The unfinished projects... oh dear lord, the unfinished scrapbooks and photos to print and abandoned knitting projects. It is a lot to tackle in one go. So mostly, I haven't touched it.
Except I have been feeling rather spring-cleany and in an effort to avoid being overwhelmed, I have been trying to deal with one box at a time. I had an extra fake Christmas tree that I donated to the Salvation Army. I sold or threw out some of the larger kids toys and, little by little, the basement floor is being revealed.
The indoor trampoline is gone and so is the slot car race track that never worked right. I packed up Thomas the Train and his little friends, along with the assorted tracks and I smiled, remembering how much our son loved them. I couldn't quite part with the trains so I boxed them up and put them under the stairs to be dealt with another time. Around four or five boxes of kids clothes have been donated and I hope that they bring another family joy.
I was the lucky recipient of a lot of hand-me-downs and although it is awesome, sometimes the volume can get rapidly out of hand. As the kids grow through things so quickly, it feels like you are running around behind them picking up socks and pants and shirts that used to fit five minutes ago.
Seventy-six per cent of parenting is sorting out clothes.
There is still a long way to go in the basement. At some point, we'll have to move all the book boxes and paint the room and install flooring but I am hopeful that we will make this a useable space eventually. In the meantime, one box at a time, I am letting things go. Even some of the unfinished projects.
I am still hopeful that I will print photos of my kids.
Some day.
