Hello Spring

I love Spring.
Spring means warm days when we can finally play outside without coats, mittens, and hats. Spring means Easter. Spring means saying hello to new things...longer days, baby birds, daffodils, and butterflies.
But sometimes, Spring also means saying good bye to some things.
So today, in honor of Spring, I said good-bye.

Good-bye stuffed monkey. I have picked you up 47 times in the past week alone. I didn't mind so much when you were loved and I was picking you up to tuck you in bed next to someone, but now I just pick you up after you fly dangerously close to my head, because someone has used you as projectile. No offense, monkey, but it's not really about love anymore. They were only using you as a weapon. I can't let you be treated like that. I will miss you. But, at the same time, I'm glad you're gone. To be honest, I'm sick and tired of finding your stuffing all over the house. Huh. I guess that makes you a half stuffed monkey.

Good-bye broken car.  B insisted on hanging onto you in spite of the fact that you were missing wheels and you could no longer even drive. In fact, all you did lately was make some obnoxious sound like your battery was half dead. B will miss you when he eventually realizes that you're gone, and I will likely feel something that vaguely resembles guilt as I tell him that you must have gone to the broken car junk yard. But trust me when I tell you that I will get over. And so will he.

Good-bye stuffed...giraffe? At least I think you were a giraffe. See, I'm sorry, but since I couldn't even tell what kind of animal you were, I couldn't justify keeping you around. I mean, if I ever get that toy organizing thing down, I wouldn't even know where to put you. I wish you well, and hope you find a good therapist to help with your Animal Identity Disorder.

Good-bye various made in China pieces of crap that have been cluttering up my home. I have tripped over you more times than I can count, and I thought we should part ways before someone really got hurt. Oh, and don't think I didn't notice that you multiplied when I put you into the toy box. Maybe you can find some way back to your homeland. Here, this boat can take you. It goes way too slow now anyway. Bye-Bye boat.

Good-bye coloring books that we have had since 2005. No one uses you anyway. I have some guilt that my children no longer have coloring books, but I have evidence that they prefer to color on the walls, the doors, and the dishwasher, so you really didn't do your job all that well anyway, did you?

Good-bye Elmos. Yes, that is plural. I promise this has nothing to do with the fact that I hate Elmo. It's just, well--how many of you do we really need? If we had a couple more kids, then maybe I could justify keeping a few more of you, but as it is, I just can't justify keeping all twelve of you. And really, I have to remind you that, over the years, I've done a lot for you. I've brought you in out of the rain. I've saved you from certain death because someone thought you needed a bath. I've repeatedly put your clothes back on, and I've turned you off when not in use to preserve the few brain cells that I have left  your batteries. I've even tickled you, Elmo. But I'm not really feeling that we've gotten much in return. I mean, hello Potty Training Elmo, did you happen to notice that no one has actually been potty trained in the year and a half you've lived with us?  Maybe it's time you considered changing your name to What Have I Done for You Lately Elmo. But, please, don't consider yourself fired. Consider yourself laid off. I'm sure Sesame Street has an Unemployment office. Here, hitch a ride on this bus. Bye-bye bus.

While saying good-bye to all of this, I also found something I thought I'd lost. In fact, I was almost certain that I'd lost it, though I'm not sure exactly when. And while the part of it that I found was small--almost insignificant, perhaps--still, it was there. And just finding it gave me hope. There, under the Elmos, next to the coloring books, and between the broken car and the way too slow boat, was a very small bit of my sanity.

Now that I have that little piece back, I'm trying to hold onto it with all my might. I really don't want to lose it again. So if I know you in real life, I hope you'll come visit soon. Just be forewarned that if you show up with anything that can be used as projectile, has more than two pieces, or makes noise, I may suggest that you take a way too slow boat to China, in search of the elusive half stuffed flying monkey.