"They'll grow out of it eventually,"

With one simple sentence, (and likely without realizing it), my hubby managed to put just a bit of my stress to rest.

I have 2 daughters.  As a result, we have a lot of toys.  More specifically, we have a lot of stuffed animals.  Both girls have cubbies under their beds, which are used to house many of those stuffed "friends."  But things are getting crazy.  Not only are things crowded under the beds, but sometimes there is barely room for the girls to sleep in their beds.

Over the past few years, I have tried several times to cull out some of the less-favorable friends and "hide" them or send them on to better homes.  What makes this effort so difficult, is that I can rarely get through the pile without noting where each specific animal came from and much of time, having a story to go along with it.  The dog that K never plays with that suddenly showed up on her floor last week?  It came from Grandma Trudy's house.  No getting rid of that.  The zebra that suddenly materialized?  Nana gave it to her.  The bunny rabbit that I literally have not seen in 2 years that is suddenly back in the rotation?  Gift with purchase, but came at a time K was throwing a fit in the store and perfectly distracted her.  The same goes in B's room.

Each stuffed animal has a story, and a name, and a reason that they can't move on.  It stresses me out.  Some days, way more than others.  As I'm trying to clean the house and put away the holiday stuff, the sight of the messy pile on K's bedroom floor (a result of cleaning off her bed to change the sheets) and the knowledge that B also has a pile, drives me crazy.  It makes my stomach clench at the thought of all of the clutter and the feeling that I cannot get ahead of it.

Then last night, with one simple comment from my husband, things changed.  My stomach unclenched just a bit and I relaxed.  "They'll grow out of it eventually."  Yes, they will.  At some point, many of those beloved friends will cease being quite so important.  One by one, they might be willingly donated by my girls to new families with little ones in need of some companionship.  (Think "Toy Story" here.)  Bit by bit, the room decor will change and stuffed friends will give over to more nail polish and make-up (or books.  I'm good with books.)  And I'll miss this.  I'll miss this crazy, unorganized and unruly pile of fluff and stuff.

Sadly, there will be a day when my girls won't lay in bed in the mornings giggling because Mommy made Olaf sing and dance and Mr. Bear woke them with tickles; a day when they won't cling to a stuffy friend when they are upset.  I don't want that day to come too soon.  So in the meantime, I'll step over the pile and hope that I don't accidentally "hurt" anyone buried underneath.  (Stuffed boo-boos being so hard to care for.)  I'll continue to put them away in their "house" under the bed and I'll smile when an old friend comes back into the rotation.  I'll wait, and I'll let them have this moment.  Because someday, it will be gone.