Mom life – Minimally Montessori

Let me begin by just giving out a big, gigantic sigh. SIGHHHHHHH. I’m laying in bed, the day after H’s first birthday, and I’m hit with a wave of emotions. Happy, excited, joyous, reminiscent, sad, and now I’m misty eyed. My baby’s now one. She’s no longer a baby. Well, she’s my baby, but she’s not a baby anymore. She walks on her own. She stands at the kitchen gate and yells at me for “banana”. She plays Animal Crossing in my Switch. She’s interested in getting dressed and how clothes work, and has started “brushing” her teeth and hair. She’s definitely not a baby anymore.

Her birthday went well. I decorated the night before, printed out a photo albums worth of photos (you can sum up a new person’s life in 150 photos, I found out). I baked a cake from scratch, stressed out about whether I should give her a real cake or a low sugar one (we went with low sugar). She loved it. The balloons were a big hit, and she avoided popping any. We only introduced a few new toys because she got overwhelmed very quickly, but we anticipated it.

I made a video, showing my favorite moments from the past year. I paired it with a song that was used in Futurama, one played at a heartwarming scene. I cried while making it. In 3 minutes, I watched my baby grow up. I couldn’t stop wondering how it had already been a year. Time during covid seemed like it stood still, but here was my proof against that. She grew by the day.

I pulled out the outfit we brought her home in from the hospital. It was so tiny. She weighed less than our cat when she was born. I keep trying to figure out how? How was this toddler so fragile and tiny at one point? She walks around pointing as things she notices, reveling in each day, but it feels like last week that she slept against me constantly as I spent my mornings (or was it nights? time melted together in the newborn phase) in the tv room, dozing off with the tiny warm baby on me. My husband and I would switch shifts, only seeing each other in passing as one would wake up and take the baby, and the other go to bed.

I want to bottle up this time, so I have it forever. Her gentle voice, her tiny handprints all over everything, the way she teeters as she walks. I want to remember it all. These last couple weeks have been rough on me, emotionally. My baby is no longer a baby. And I’m okay with that. But it happened so much quicker than I anticipated.

I love thrift shopping. I always have. Some of my earliest memories are of my mom and I going to our local thrift shop, finding bags carefully packed with toys. We were pretty poor growing up, so most of my clothing came from thrift shops. I didn’t mind, and I loved being able to find clothes that weren’t trendy. The few times I got new clothing from the store were a huge disappointment. Finding clothes at regular stores as a tomboy preteen in the early 2000’s was an absolute nightmare, full of low rise jeans, short shorts, and god awful logos. I thrived on thrifted skater shirts and shorts originally targeted at boys.

It took me years to figure out type of clothing fit me. Most of the things I bought I had to alter to fit, but because I spent $0.50 on jeans rather than $40, I was willing to experiment with altering. Using different fits from different generations helped me understand why some pieces worked on me, and some didn’t. Eventually, I was able to visualize how something would fit on me but looking at it on the rack.

Post-thrifting photo before I figured out what worked with my body type

While I love thrifting, I know the thought of buying other people’s old items can make some people uncomfortable. Family members used to wear disguises when going into a thrift shop so nobody would recognize them. Granted, this was before thrifting became cool, and people started realizing they could make money off their thrifting hauls. Thrifting has become streamlined and clean, with most of the dirty work already done. My husband didn’t really appreciate the value from thrifting, but I just show him how much it would cost otherwise. Now he only rolls his eyes half the time.

While I was pregnant, I spent my Sundays taking the bus up to the nearest Goodwill. I’d stop in at Starbucks, grab a drink, and walk my way over. I loved the routine. I loved searching through the racks. I stocked up on thrifted clothes for H, finding some things brand new with the tags still on. Now that H is outgrowing a lot, I’ve given away clothing, toys, her baby tub, my maternity clothes. It makes me happy knowing those items have gone on to live in another happy home, and keeps these items out of dumps. I’m all about trying to minimize waste in creative ways. I’m hoping to teach H these values, that there’s no shame in making use of things that other people have given a home to first.

Since Covid, I’ve started spending time going through the free and for sale section of NextDoor, and have picked up some absolute scores. I live in an area where high value items are frequently given away or sold, and I’m definitely excited to benefit from that fact. Nearly new items for free or heavily discounted? I’m there!

The Ikea nightstand I use for H’s bathroom setup

Among other things, I’ve collected a giant plastic bin full of wooden train sets, and endless books that became instant favorites. And I plan on passing them along to another family when we’re all done with them. I really just love finding things secondhand. It’s a mystery, you never know what you’ll find. Plus, you’re doing something good for the environment. It’s a win-win.