The prompt today asked me to describe an item from my youth that I was attached to and explain what happened to it. But I don’t have one item. I have a steamer trunk and plastic storage bins full with them. Apparently, I have attachment and emotional connection to a lot of my belongings and I have unwittingly passed this onto my daughter. Every time my mom and I would go through my belongings to make space and age up my things, I would have a hard time letting go of items that triggered memories.
My stuffed animal collection certainly could have filled an entire room at one point. I never owned that many at once, but in my lifetime, they were definitely a plethora of cute creatures occupying most of my living space. A small fluffy blue bird that “tweeted” when shook, named Peachy, has been with me longer than my memories. That bird sleeps with my daughter now. A strange-looking bear that rattles, named sisterbrother, also occupies her bed. I received this bear around two, because that would have been the age my mom found out she was pregnant with my baby brother. (P.S. he’s 30 something now but still my baby brother.) I probably named it sisterbrother because my parents were explaining to me about the newest addition to our family. I have a Care Bear my mom gave me in college. It’s Sleepytime Bear and, of course, it lives in Adelyn’s room as well. Having a daughter makes it easy to pass on all the toys that brought me comfort as a child. She even has a few stuffed animals that my mom made as a child. Those sit on a shelf because they are delicate and she knows they are for looking, not playing. But she will take them down for tea parties because, as she says, “tea parties are gentle and everyone needs a party.”
I went on adventures with my action figures. Especially the female team members of the X-men, and I kept the ones that I played with daily. My daughter has them now. They battle with her barbies or rescue animals from whatever danger she puts them in. Honestly, watching her get joy out of the toys that brought me happiness for years makes my heart swell. I felt silly for years keeping these, hoping I could share them with my daughter. A risk because there was no way to know if I would ever have a daughter. I don’t know what would have happened if she never came along, and I am not even going to entertain that idea.
She cherishes everything, knowing that they were once mine. Adelyn will bring me things to cuddle with her and tell me stories about what they have done while I was at work. She gets excited and asks if she can pass on her stuffies to her daughter that she has one day. I tell her, of course, and ask what if she has a boy? She will tell me, “Don’t be silly mommy, I’m going to have a girl like you.”
I kept Polly Pockets. She loves how little the old Polly Pockets are compared to the new ones. However, she says that she likes the way the new ones look because the old ones have funny hair. I don’t blame her. They look a bit weird. She has my old Strawberry Shortcake dolls and a Rainbow Bright doll that was passed onto from my cousin. But holding onto these toys has brought on an issue I never thought about. She wants more and I can’t get these toys because no one makes the classics. I have read her the books from my childhood, and she becomes sad knowing there are no more.
I foresee my husband and I having the same issue my parents had. How are we going to store these things that are meaningful to her? When I ask what toys she wants to keep and what she wants to donate, I see the pain I used to have. She is processing emotions and holding the toy, trying to decide if the emotional attachment is one she can part with. I won’t push her. My mom let me hold on to what was important. We would check back as I grew and I will do the same with her. Some things just mean more than others.
