The End of the Baby Years: Letting Go and Moving On

It’s time I sold my stroller. It really is.

It serves no purpose.

It hasn’t been used for over a year.

It sits in an already cluttered garage, gathering dust. 

Yet, the thought of parting with this defining piece of our baby years brings great sadness.

Because there’s a finality in that. The end of a very short, four-year era. A closing chapter on baby and toddlerhood. Not to be reread again. 

Memories of the Baby Years

We didn’t buy many baby things. The last on my husband’s side to have children, we gratefully received ALL the baby paraphernalia.

But we did purchase a very expensive stroller.

And it was *sigh* perfect.  

Originally, my sights were set on a butterscotch, sporty, uber-light, swively number. But perusing the baby floor of the department store, both mine, and my husband’s eye, was instantly drawn to a larger, more expensive, luxury stroller in a steely ‘granite’ grey with tan leather upholstery. Classic. Heavy. Enduring. And coincidentally, the same make that I had sat in as a child.

Back then, it was one of those traditional, carriage-esque designs that would likely demand some form of baby bonnet and matching romper, and wouldn’t look out of place in Bridgerton. 

It’s beautiful, but cumbersome and completely impractical for modern day living with its giant wheels and non-foldable frame, I had turned down my mom’s offer to take our old family one. Because at that time, with no garage, and a narrow entranceway into our home, we simply did not have the space required to accommodate it.

Several month’s pregnant and having not yet stepped into motherhood, I didn’t understand her pained attachment to something that her children had long outgrown.

Hot-wheeling Around

Being my first baby, I of course, had to get the extortionately-priced matching diaper bag that transpired to have very impractical straps, and later, the coordinating parasol.

While the parasol didn’t get much action thanks to that elusive Scottish sun; the stroller certainly did.

I walked and walked and walked in those first two years. Hundreds of hours stalking the pavements of the little towns we lived in.

Exercise for me.

Fresh air for us both.

Growing Up

The first moment of sadness came when he became too big for the bassinet, and we had to upgrade to the reclining seat.

But I got over that.

There were further months, even years, of wheeling around, before eventually his legs extended out and he wanted to walk more than he wanted to sit, unless an endless supply of snacks were passed over to small, impatient hands.

We then got ourselves a wagon. But that didn’t last too long.

Now, my four-year-old much prefers to hop on his scooter, flying ahead on the sidewalk, only pausing briefly to allow us to catch up.

Grow Baby, Grow

I’ve not been one to cling to those formative years. From the earliest days, my son wanted to be on the move {cue pacing floors, bouncing on knees, and the ultimate saving grace – a baby swing}. Age afforded him this, and I’ve loved watching him progress, his infantile frustration lessening with every month and year, as he’s matured and developed the skills needed to aid his independence.

Moving On

Several moves have required systematic clear outs on my behalf. As a result, I’ve not held onto many items, bar a handful of sentimental toys and clothing that evoke memories of those precious baby years, which are stored away in a small box or two, taking up very little space.

Unlike my stroller in the garage.

So yeah, it really is time I sold it…

Mamas, what’s the one thing from the baby years you’ve had a hard time parting with? Have you continued to hold onto stuff you no longer need because you just can’t let go?

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