Candy what?

My mom saved a lot of things from my childhood. Clothes, toys and boxes of artwork from school take up space in the loft in my parents garage. It is nice that my mom has held on to these memories for my sister and I to look back on. However, I know that I'll never be able to do this as well as she has for my kids. There are many reasons for this:

1. I am not as organized as my mom. Why my mother did not pass the organization gene on to me, I will never know and I will forever be bitter about it. You would think after years of watching my mom file and straighten and label some of it would've rubbed off on me. Instead, I feel like every drawer in my house looks vaguely like a junk drawer; no matter what I do, they all seem to be littered with paperclips and old receipts.

2. I don't like clutter. I get that this doesn't make sense considering I just told you I was not organized. So basically, if I feel like things are getting cluttered I just start throwing stuff away (or into the drawers that I keep all my paperclips in.)

3. Clearly, my soul is made of ice. Now, this one is not entirely true. While I did throw all of your Christmas cheer right in the recycle bin and if you are sitting still in my house long enough, I'll probably try to donate you, I do keep the "important" things. For example, on my birthday, in 7th grade, my close friends were kind enough to surprise me with balloons and flowers in the morning before school. My, now husband, at the time had a major crush on me (and who wouldn't, especially the way I could rock a floral print body suit and crocheted vest.) Despite the crush, he failed to remember it was my birthday. So at lunch he went out into the soccer field and picked me a bouquet of tiny lawn daisies which he tied together with the rubber band from someone elses' braces. They are dried and brown today, but I still have them.

Another example, my great grandfather passed away when I was ten. My sister and I both got a roll of quarters as our "inheritance" and we could buy anything we wanted from him. I bought this:

I guess, at the time, it reminded me of him:

(These are my Great-Grandparents whom I called "Bah" and "Daddal." That cute little long-haired version of Charlie in the middle is actually me.)

For a child I can see why this weird little frog was cool/cute/display-worthy. Today, I realize that this thing is basically why the term "fugly" was invented. When I stopped displaying it, I put it in a box full of other memories and forgot about it.

Before Grant and I got married we had a garage sale to raise money for our honeymoon.  While going threw boxes looking for items to sell, I found this frog and thought to myself, "You know, I am ok with parting with this. I mean, it is not like I will ever display it again." So out it went, onto a table with other various items that I was planning on selling for probably no more than $1.00 each.  All day, the patrons came and went and I saw my gelato and pasta fund growing and growing.

And then, someone picked up the frog. My heart nearly stopped. He walked toward me, and I started to panic.

"How much for this?" He asked.

(Oh God! What do I do? What do I do?) 

"$25!" I blurted out.

He looked at me like I was insane, but this is mostly because I practically grabbed the little guy out of his hand and started to stroke his like resin head. "It's ok little froggie. Mommy will never leave you." Needless to say, I did not sell the frog that day and I don't plan on getting rid of it anytime soon.

So yes, fine! I throw away Christmas cards and photographs sometimes! But I keep what is important. Like the painting that hangs on the bulletin board in the kitchen. Even though I know there are probably thousands more to come, this was Charlie's first painting and I just can part with it yet. And while my mom probably hung on to too much stuff, amongst it all, there was some really important stuff too.  Like this gem for example:

 

 ("The Candy Beaver loved to eat candy. He smiled big and he made up a poem." Gold. Absolute gold.)