I am so pathetic. I am the most sentimental person I know with the exception of my mom...maybe. When I was little I would actually stress out about which of my little cute stuffed animals got to be on the bed and which ones went in the closet. I felt so sad for the ones that felt abandoned. At night, when I would turn my bed down, I carefully put each one on the floor sitting upright, making sure they were comfortable and that they felt loved.
When I totalled my first car that I paid for with my own money, I felt horrible. I felt like that car protected me, always got me where I needed to be, carried around all of my stuff, was perfect for me. I felt like I had betrayed it by smashing the front irreparably.
When the turtle shell store, "Reams", was demolished, I felt sadness. It was part of the first date Matt and I went on. Who cares if we committed a felony? (It was totally innocent, I swear.) I felt like a piece of our history was gone. When we had to pack up and leave our first apartment together I was nearly devastated. It was where we started out--where we had some of our very best moments. It felt wrong to just walk out the door never to come back.
I could go on and on about how mushy I am. There are stories and stories of this little problem I have. I just get too attached to things, to places, to people, to everything.
Today I put away all of the newborn and 0-3 month clothes and it actually caused me pain! I ached over every little piece I carefully folded and put away. A few months ago my baby was drowning in them and now they are going into storage, indefinitely. When we found out we were having another boy I was so excited to use the same cute outfits that didn't get enough wear the first time. Today, as I put them away, I just couldn't stop thinking, "what if this is the last time?".