selling stuff sucks

Now I remember why we usually can't be bothered to do this, beyond a garage sale or two over the years.....

First you have to locate the item. Then you have to clean/repair the item (granted that my lovely wife usually takes care of these first two if I whine enough).

Then you have to decide how much to charge for the item....somewhere between 'I love this and others should appreciate it's unique beauty too' and 'hahaahahaha oh well at least it sold and we didn't just give it away.'

You know what else sucks about selling stuff ? Going back & forth, back & forth, back & forth with people over email and phone about how great said item is, how convenient it is for them to pick it up, how you have the perfect price, how big it is, how much it weighs, its shoe size, where you live....and then they never show up at the stated time and just disappear, entering the twilight zone of used item sales....never, ever to be seen or heard from again...

And yet when you are downsizing in the rather extreme way that we are at present, it's hard to get around selling stuff, sucky though it may be. I mean it makes a lot more sense to sell certain big ticket items than to try to store them in our limited basement space for an indefinite amount of time...and definitely makes a lot more sense than paying to store them somewhere else...

Some of the items we have managed to sell in the past few weeks:

• our rooftop car box thingy (we haven't used it since we got a bigger car 1.5 years ago).
• our espresso machine (we figure we don't have enough counter space and will be living closer to fancy coffee shops).
• Our lovely sit & stand stroller to some friends who just had a beautiful baby girl, baby #3, a few days ago. Time for Annie to walk more--at age 5.5, I think she's ready so long as we can handle the whining.
  
• Our big brown bunk beds...they will not likely fit in the girls new tiny (6' by 10') bedroom and will be replaced by, wait for it, something smaller from IKEA!
• This old, slightly odd looking wooden hutch from Beth's grandma's house. She was most decidedly NOT sentimentally attached to it (whew! I could learn from this example).
  

Some of the items we might, with any luck, be selling in the next couple of days:

• our leather couch. Lovely, but we also have a pull out couch and we need things with more than one purpose.
• Our Double Chariot Cougar Stroller. Weirdly we are having a lot of trouble offloading what is usually a hot item in Ottawa.
  

Some of the items we seem destined never to sell and might as well give up on at this point:

• our beautiful Radio Flyer Liberty Spring Horse. Perfection in plastic horse form. And yet nary a nibble...
• Our IKEA Robin bed. Maybe everyone else has read that they don't make it anymore due to pokey corners "(http://forum.canadianparents.com/ubbthreads/ubbthreads.php?ubb=showflat&Number=198432) hmmm. maybe that's why we can't sell it.
• Our ibert front mount bike seat...perfect for carrying your toddler in front while your big kid rides on her trail-a-bike in back. If you're a toddler, imagine this: sun in your face, wind in your hair, waving and laughing at passersby, and for added enjoyment periodically leaning over to mess with your parent's gears/brakes/bell. hmmm.
  
• Our change table/dresser.
• A lovely Fisher Price pack n' play

(As you may sense from some of the above mentioned items, we have rather firmly decided that our family is complete, no more cute little Clarke-Ward babies will be coming our way. And yes, in our case, that is a rather definitive decision....for obvious reasons).

Some of the items we probably should sell but haven't brought ourselves to part with yet:

• The girls' massive 3 storey dollhouse
• Our Queen size bed & mattress.....mmmm such a nice mattress. And that nice basket-weaving IKEA bed. (IKEA should start sponsoring this blog).

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So now it's Sunday morning, and we have officially sold the couch, bringing to about $1000 the amount we have made selling stuff so far. Not too shabby and will definitely help pay for the move.

Except this time I think we may have gone too far. I am now experiencing a serious case of seller's remorse. What were we thinking!???!!!! That was our nice leather couch. The one that looked like it belonged in a grown-up's living room, not in a grad school apartment. The one that did not get dirty, no matter how many times it was peed on, spilled on etc. The one that never showed the cat hair from our WHITE cat. The one that was comfy and cozy. The one that I guess was really too big and anyway had a tear in it and really it is JUST a couch and we can always replace it some day and really it is just a thing, just an object, let it go, let it go, let it go....

Anxiety & insomnia can really be funny sometimes. No really. Not usually in the moment, but in the harsh light of reality that follows. As in, what the hell, I woke up early worrying because we sold a couch? Don't I have more important things to think about and worry about? Like hoping someone will buy our house?

There now, I feel better already. Maybe I'd better watch another therapeutic 15 minutes of hoarders. (and buy a new cover for our remaining IKEA couch?? That would probably help too, though it sort of goes against the whole point of this blog!)

Hmmm that gives me an idea for another post: how a green living, simple living, slightly broke Quaker girl like me still finds shopping strangely therapeutic at times. yikes!

Cordaround: not a member of the corduroy family.

So I haven't spoken much about my wonderful wife. I could go on about how she's a marvellous mom, terrific teacher, lovely life partner and give many other alliterative compliments.

Anyway, she is definitely the handy one in this relationship. As discovered during a recent google chat.

When we began prepping our current house for moving, we decided to redo the floors in the basement guest room & in our two girls rooms. Replacing gross (and in one case cat pee covered) carpet with clean new laminate would be a good thing for the value of our house, we blithely agreed--plus laminate was on sale! So she worked very hard last weekend, got all the carpet up & new laminate down, leaving only a few bare inches of wall and a gap between the laminate and the wall. Clearly, what was needed was some wood to replace the ratty old stuff she had torn out. I, being the non handy one in the relationship, was very proud that I knew the correct term for said ratty old wood, and proudly brought it out in a recent google chat. "So," I said, "when are you going to replace the cordaround ?" her chat version of apoplectic giggling alerted me to the fact that something was wrong.

Apparently it is not a close relative of the corduroy family, as I had assumed, but is actually called 'quarter round' to reflect the fact that it is a quarter of an inch thick or something. Sheesh! who knew?

Panic! *Breathe* Panic!

okaaaaaaaaaay.
So I talked to my wonderful dad on Sunday, just back from painting the girls' bedroom and playroom at the new house. He also took photos of the whole place and measured the rooms and the windows, so we can think about curtains n' stuff.
He was fulsome in his compliments about the new place, how cozy it is, how much character it has etc. And tried to be very reassuring in describing how 'big' some of the rooms were. But while he was talking, my internal dialogue was drowning out his soft, encouraging voice. Something like this:

Him:
'The kitchen is nice, it has new laminate flooring, and I like that you have an eating nook/counter for the kids to use. There's not a lot of cupboard space though, and I don't think you will be able to fit your table in it."

Me, in my head: 'aaaaaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee small kitchen small kitchen small kitchen I hate small kitchens I am too messy for small kitchens aaiiiiiiiiieeeeee. How am I going to pare down my kitchen I am attached to every piece of enormous equipment, I LOVE it all'

Me, out loud: "mmm...well, maybe we can store some stuff down in the basement that we don't use regularly...and we can put the freezer down there too. We can put the table in the dining room space too."

*********************************************************
Him: 'Your bedroom is really quite big and has a nice window."

Me, out loud: "Do you think there's any chance to get our king size bed in there? We have a very tall 5 yo with pokey elbows who usually climbs into bed with us, and I don't want to give up the King."

Me, in my head: "Aaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee we can't go back to our Queen, I'll never sleep again, we gotta get this kid out of our bed, maybe by some miracle she'll start sleeping through the night right after we move to a new city aaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeee"

Did I mention anxiety runs in my family? This was slightly edited for dramatic effect, but it isn't that far from reality, and certainly adds fuel to my decluttering fire.

I tend to think I manage anxiety better than some other members of family of origin, though it certainly rears its ugly head periodically, and this is one of those times! Not at all surprising given we are trying to uproot ourselves, move two kids and downsize dramatically in the space of 6 weeks. I guess that would make anyone, anxious, but I know that I also have the weight of multiple generations of anxious adults behind me. Not to mention the weight of the anxious, highly sensitive 5 yo lying on my arm, holding onto my leg....or you get the idea!
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And now, for extra panic...
We (foolishly, crazily) wisely took the advice of real estate agent on Monday who strongly encouraged us to put the house up for sale sooner rather than later. Basically we don't want it sitting empty for too long, and in our local tepid real estate market, it can take a few weeks. \
So we blithely signed on the dotted line... he would take pictures, put up the sign and it would begin showing the following...Monday.
So now we have hmm, well 4 days and 4 nights to get the house ready to go on the market. I think it's time to stop decluttering and time to start throwing things in boxes and bags, throwing them in the POD and making our very lived in home look staged.
(hahahaahaahahahahaahahahaahahahahahaahaha --hysteria tinged laughter because this is both funny and likely impossible)

Remembering

I'm having a hard time rousing up my usual sardonic wit after hearing about the death of a truly wonderful woman, one who epitomized graciousness, compassion, intelligence and faithfulness. Even though her death was long expected, I am still having a lot of trouble coming to terms with the loss it represents. She was the kind of person who accepted you where you were and yet always encouraged you to be better, with gentleness and empathy.

I can only dream of some day living up to her legacy. Her husband of more than 50 years, who met her and fell in love with her in kindergarten, is a deeply gentle, caring soul. I can't begin to imagine his loss.

Contents of my daughter's craft drawers

We set up these craft drawers, the cheapiest, crappiest IKEA unfinished pine kind, to help A manage her extreme anxiety at having a younger sister who was getting into all her stuff. They come complete with top of the line magnetic locking system, the fancy kind that unlocks using a magnet stuck to the frige). A used to take great delight in locking the magnet in the drawer and then asking B to open them for her. A was wise enough not to ask me, knowing that involving me in any fine motor, technically-minded tasks quickly deteriorates into cursing, swearing, and throwing of relevant or random objects.

So the craft drawers took on kind of a mythical significance for A...a holy sanctuary where she could store tiny beads, stickers, jewelry, fake tattoos and all manner of objects special to a preschool girl.

Here's the thing. She has not touched these drawers in about 7-8 months, give or take. She now has a big girl school desk, and these drawers have sat, unlocked, unloved and unused in a corner of our living room.

So...my first thought: we should get rid of them. But then the panic sets in: what if she misses them, what if they fit perfectly in some nook or cranny of our new place.

Leaving that paralyzing dilemma aside for a moment, I decide to sort through them.
A sampling of items I found inside:

• 1 cheddar bunny
• 4 Hello Kitty tattoos
• 7 or 8 sheets of glittery alphabet stickers given by my mom who's trying to encourage A to read.
• A souvenir of the Olympic torch relay last December.
  
• 3 matchbox cars including the prized Lightning McQueen
• A Lightning McQueen Pez dispenser
• 5 creepy Chinese opera model masks from a work trip I took to Beijing in 2008
• A baby food jar whose entire contents were 3 Lego gold doubloons
• a sock (of course! I just threw out about 30 single socks, most of which I have now found in random places around the house)
  
• teeny tiny erasers
• A pin from Dirty Dancing containing the quote: 'I carried a watermelon?'
  
• More color wonder markers than I care to think about

And the pièce de résistance: An immense number of plastic melt beads, which at one point had been carefully sorted, by colour, into small ziplocs bags, only 3 of the bags had spilled, leaving a pile of pink, blue and green beads mixed together on the bottom of the drawer. I attempted to lovingly sort them....an attempt that was short lived. Remember what I was saying earlier about fine motor tasks? I HATE melt beads with a deep and abiding passion. I can't seem to pick them up and when I do, I invariably place them on the board in the wrong place and then knock off the other ones while I'm taking them off...you get the idea.

In fact, it was while I was sorting them that I thought, gee, what else could I be doing right now? Oh yeah, blogging about this miserable task! Which is what lead to this post..

In other news, part 1: our PODS has landed and is now sitting in glowing white ugly splendour on our driveway. The charming delivery guy who dropped it off suggested we decorate it for Hallowe'en. This idea is too inspiring to ignore.

In other news, part 2: My dad is now at our new place painting away. He was nice enough to say that it was bigger than our very first house, a 900 sq. ft. brick row house. But then he added 'But you know, this place really is a lot smaller than where you are living right now.'

In other news part 3: Thanks for your input, dilemma du jour #1 has been resolved. I (threw out) re-homed some of the smaller items (Barbie jewelry, single shoes, a truly hideous see through plastic raincoat) and some of the scary Barbies (one with a short uneven haircut, one with pink hair) and have kept a selection which will likely be given at Christmas. I think. We'll see.

dilemma du jour, #1: Barbies

Going through a major decluttering exercise is akin to navigating a minefield. Only instead of deadly explosive devices, you are dealing with potential meltdowns and minor inconveniences. So maybe they aren't really all that similar.

Anyway, one thing that happens when you are getting rid of lots of stuff is that you have to make eight million little tiny decisions per box that you fill. I've been watching Hoarders on netflix lately (partly for motivation), and I admit, I empathize with them to some extent. It is hard to decide if you might need something later. Okay, well it's hard to decide if you might need toys or household items later. I don't find it so hard to decide if I will need rusted out cars or rotting food later.

Which brings me to today's dilemma: the Bag O' Barbies.
A kind colleague at work who was moving overseas 'gifted' me with a gigantic garbage bag of used Barbies. There are maybe 50 of them in there. They have sat in our front hall closet since we received them. My dilemma with the Barbies is as follows:

• Barbies are evil, anti-feminist toys of the patriarchy.
• My 5 yo loves Barbies
• She doesn't even know about these ones yet.
• We are likely to be COMPLETELY broke this Christmas and those Barbies could come in handy.
  
• Heck, these Barbies could keep her believing in Santa for one more year.
• Santa is an evil tool of consumerist society. Hmm.
  
• They aren't exactly nice new Barbies, they are well-loved, and the bag is full of tiny pieces of Barbie crap: shoes, jewelry, crowns and something that looks like a garter but I think is actually a bridle for a horse.
  

Not sure what to do about this yet, but am open to input!

reality sets in.

Okay, so I am still very excited about this move. In fact I am more excited than ever about the fabulous urban neighbourhood we are going to be living in! And the possibility of good schools! And the fact that we might eventually be able to buy a house there!

But I think I am also starting to panic a bit about how tiny it is. Really, how tiny is it? Maybe part of the problem is that I don't really know...I only have a general idea from looking at some pictures, taken by the landlords a few years ago, with someone else's furniture in them. As a result, I find myself obsessively reading the IKEA catalogue (there must be some way IKEA can help us, right?) or poring through the selection of storage bins at our local department store.

The good news: my dad (aka superdad!) has offered to go to our new place this weekend to measure, take pictures and paint the girls' room and playroom! So hopefully by Sunday we will have a much better idea of the (gravity of the) situation.

In other news, our PODS storage unit arrives today. Whee! I am actually very excited about this, as one of the things I hated about our last move was filling up our entire living room with boxes such that we couldn't move. Not fun.

We have thrown out a whole bunch of stuff so far, including: drop side crib that is now illegal, grotty old booster seat, cheap & wrecked IKEA end tables. I do feel a sick undercurrent of guilt about that stuff going to the landfill.

We have also given away bags & bags & bags of clothes, and I have three boxes of books from the living room that are all set to go. All very satisfying, with a soupcon of 'oh shit, what if I got rid of something we need'.

And of course then there's the moment every parent dreads: 'Mama, where's my special pink sweater that I wore to the wedding last year?' When confronted with questions like this, I never know whether to:

1. Blatantly lie ("I think it's in the wash")
   
2. Tell the truth....sort of ("It was too small....so we put it away for your sister")
3. Tell the bald faced truth ("sweetie, you haven't worn it or noticed it in 6 months. I gave it away)
   

What do you do in situations like this??

Downsizing and downshifting

I am now officially downwardly mobile, and I couldn't be happier about it.

In the next six weeks, I will:

• drop my salary
  
• move from owning a home to renting (at least for now)
• move from a 2100 sq. foot, 4 bedroom, 3 bathroom suburban home to a tiny downtown row house with 2 functional bedrooms, 1 bathroom and a tiny sink with no dishwasher. (the horror!)

And yet, I couldn't be happier. According to my family, I've smiled more and laughed more in the past week than I have in at least 2-3 years. And yet, I know we have our work cut out for us, and I am definitely anxious...anxiety being something that runs in my family in a serious way. More on that later.

Follow me as I try to get rid of a whole lot of stuff, and try to make our current home and family fit into our new reality. Follow my kids, an anxious five-year-old who feels "ambivalent about moving" (direct quote), and our happy go lucky two-year-old who's biggest challenge is not breaking all our stuff before we pack it. And of course my lovely wife, who is working like crazy to make this all happen for us.