Last fall, Jane wrote this post about dealing with anxiety. Dubbed "organizing your spices" I could totally relate. I knew, through therapy sessions, that one of my ways of trying to control anxiety/things I couldn't control was to clean, or organize, or rearrange, or create.
The past couple days I started making a mental list of these random projects I wanted to do around the house. Paint the old hutch in the dining room. Refinish an old high chair. Paint more chalkboard paint in the kitchen. And the big one.... swap rooms. Move my office/craft room up to the playroom off of the living room and move the playroom down to the basement.
Ryan agreed it would be a good idea- the boys rarely play in the smallish playroom, and when they did they trashed it. They had too many "big" things in there that took up space. There wasn't a lot of floorspace to play. And the big one- I felt like we had toys dispersed among every room of the house. Train table upstairs, a toy box of toys and dress up in the basement, and a playroom full of toys on the 1st floor. By moving everything downstairs, it would create a "home base" for a majority of the toys.
Last night, around 10pm, I decided to make the switch. Now mind you- this wasn't a simple "move a few things" switch. I moved cabinets and unscrewed countertops and dragged all 90" of countertop up the stairs at midnight. I hauled bins and bins of toys, a toy kitchen, table and chairs all to the basement. I finally wen to bed at 1am and woke up and spent all of today organizing and trying to put things in place.
Did I mention today was Amelia's 1st birthday? And I was in a bit of denial that my baby was turning 1.
All day while I moved boxes and files and totes and crates and cabinets and toys up and down the stairs I contemplated this change. While it seems simple enough- innocent enough- deep down I knew what this was.
It was one step further in the direction of my children growing up. Their independence.
The playroom right off the living room was great when we first moved here- the boys were toddlers/babies and it was well used. But now.... they're 7 and (almost) 5 and are slowly moving to the phase of not "needing" a toy room. I mean, they do- but... they spend time with friends in the basement. They're bigger. Louder. More active. They need more space, in more ways than one.
Knowing Amelia is 99.9% likely my last baby it gives me so much anxiety. I'm not ready to let go of this phase.... this part of me. The part of me that identifies as a "mom of little ones". I'm not ready to let go of bottles and sippy cups and diaper and become a mom with fully independent children. I'm not sure how to identify with myself as a mom without little ones hanging on me, needing me.
This is bringing a lump to my throat.
I felt fine after having Hudson getting rid of baby stuff... I knew we'd likely have another. I knew I'd have one more hospital stay with a fresh newborn. I knew that once again I'd have sleepless nights and a sink full of bottles and graham cracker crumbs in my purse and another sticky face to wipe off.
Amelia turning 1 is so bittersweet to me. I love the little person she is becoming. Her personality is so enormous and she is sure to be an amazing little girl. I can't wait to watch her blossom. But, this milestone also means I'm nearing my last baby bottle. The last pacifier. The last diaper. The last sippy cup. The last boo boo to kiss. The last hand to hold across the street.
So, today I organized my spices. I can't control my babies growing up. It is going to happen. Somehow I'll manage to deal with it- accept it, and love it. But today, today I'll push aside that anxiety and organize my spices.
"Your first child opens your eyes to the wonder of each new age. Your last reminds you of its transience."