Mom becomes part archeologist when spring cleaning son’s
room
I had a rather strange Easter this year. For the first time in
forever, I had no one to buy chocolate bunnies for.
You know how it is when you’re a parent. You get used to certain
things. In my case, it was Easter, which meant Easter baskets,
jelly bean eggs and chocolate things, particularly those hollow
rabbits with the enticing ears.
Mom becomes part archeologist when spring cleaning son’s room
I had a rather strange Easter this year. For the first time in forever, I had no one to buy chocolate bunnies for.
You know how it is when you’re a parent. You get used to certain things. In my case, it was Easter, which meant Easter baskets, jelly bean eggs and chocolate things, particularly those hollow rabbits with the enticing ears.
Even though my sons aren’t little anymore, I still give them a little Easter present each year, plus – of course – candy. Hey, it’s a tradition.
This year was different. My almost-19-year-old, an independent college man, decided to spend Easter with friends. My almost-16-year-old is in China with his high school band, where, no doubt, chocolate bunnies are in short supply.
I did buy myself some Easter candy – Cadbury chocolate eggs with the caramel inside. So that was my grand contribution to the economy.
At any rate, I did see my extended family on Easter, so it wasn’t like I was alone. The rest of the day I spent doing some spring cleaning. Some sneaky spring cleaning.
You see, since Hunter is in China, it’s a perfect opportunity to dig out the mess he calls a bedroom. The room hasn’t had a good cleaning in about, oh, eight years or so. I mean a get-under-the-bed, get-everything-out-of-the-closet, vacuum-under-the-furniture cleaning.
I was also determined to throw away mountains of stuff that had accumulated.
So I have been sifting through the mess like an archeologist, weighing what I can get rid of and what I can’t, an exercise that has taken me several days, numerous boxes and a roll of paper towels.
It’s kind of like opening a time capsule when you do something like this. I was finding pictures from first grade alongside Pokemon cards and Legos. Beanie Babies and macaroni craft projects. Soccer trophies and clay sculptures.
The process is unexpectedly emotional. So many things I’d forgotten about that had piled up over the years. I pulled out drawers and emptied them, marveling not only at the junk, but at the fact that I could remember just about everything in them.
Here was the rock collection that he’d started and stuck in a drawer. There was the tiny fire truck that lit up and made a siren noise at the push of a button. And under the bed, board games and old books.
The books, especially, knocked me out. There’s not much chance he’ll ever want to go back and read “Hop on Pop” or “Goosebumps,” but I kept them anyway. They remind me of all the stages he’s been through.
I got rid of all that I dared to. For instance, the stuffed tiger in his closet, the size of a Rottweiler, a Christmas present from his grandmother in 1999. I’d forgotten it was there.
So, apparently, had everyone else.
So the tiger went off to a new home and freed up about an acre of space in the closet. Yet part of me hated to see it go.
I touched all the objects of his childhood, thinking about the little boy he’d been and the man he was growing up to be.
Of course, I couldn’t get rid of everything. Some went back under the bed. Some went in the closet. But I did manage to throw away about a large trash bag full of stuff, recycled a lot of cardboard, filled up a box to give to charity, and set aside another box for Hunter to go through when he gets back.
It’s hard to let things go. But spring cleaning must be done, and luckily for me, the memories don’t take up any closet space.
