I'm still here, getting rid of junk. I just took a little break from picture-taking and post-writing to enjoy the long weekend and such. But without further ado, I give you things 6-11:
Thing 6: This was a hand-me-down from some friends. Like most parents, I still get up some nights to make sure the baby's breathing. It's this strange OCD-neurosis thing that overtakes even the most laid-back moms. You wake up at 3 AM convinced that the baby is eerily quiet, or maybe you think you heard her cough or snore, and you convince yourself she's suffocating. And there's no way you can go back to bed until you check to make sure everything's OK. It happens to every parent. Fortunately, my form of neurosis never got so out of control that I needed this baby motion sensor. And considering it's never been opened, I assume the same was true of our friends.
Thing 7: Those same friends did use this wipe warmer. Perhaps there's some medical or developmental thing behind using warm wipes that I don't understand. But Maya seems just fine with room-temperature wipes, so we're sticking with those.
Thing 8: It's hard to find shoes tiny enough for my tiny feet. Amazingly, these shoes are too tiny.
Thing 9: I bought a pin at the Marc by Marc Jacobs store a while back. Although the pin was relatively cheap, it is the one and only "designer" item I own. So why am I getting rid of it? I'm not. I'm getting rid of the box it came in. Because when you're a true pack rat, you save things like fancy boxes from high-end stores. It's an illness, I swear.
Thing 10: This is a tissue dispenser that I got for free at the Taste of Chicago a few years ago. Why would anyone ever need this? And more importantly, why would anyone ever save it? See above.
Thing 11: What is it about women where we save clothing, convincing ourselves that
someday it will fit? This dress is too big on top and too small on the bottom. And surprisingly, after holding on to this dress for years, my body shape never changed drastically, other than the giant belly I was sporting for a few months. It's time to let go of the dress, and the ideal.