Packing

We've started packing, slowly for now, boxing up the things that will least be missed by the Small Boy. Ultimately the bulk of the packing will be done on a few days when R takes off work and we ship Small Boy off to the grandparents. He doesn't like the sound of the tape as we seal up the boxes; "Hor üf! Hor üf !" he calls. ("Stop it! Stop it!") But I'm getting a little bit done here and there. It's daunting to see how much there is to do; it's daunting to look around and see just how much there is to pack.

Every time we move I realize how much stuff we've got. A lot of books and music and kitchen appliances. And paper, I've got lots of paper; old journals and childhood poetry and immature Chapters One of many many novels. English language magazines, which are like gold here and go from hand to hand to hand until I realize I'm borrowing a magazine that I brought back from the US in the first place! And because I don't have a parental house to store things in, I carry my childhood and college years with me from home to home - yearbooks and photo albums and keepsakes and college coursework and all my report cards dating back to kindergarden (which really came in handy when getting Small Boy's U.S. Passport). My baby blanket and tattered teddy bears and an old t-shirt of my father's that has been washed to paper thin. That's a weight I can live with; I'm not prepared to give those things away.

But the knicknacks. Figurines and glass bowls and hand-thrown pottery. And the candles and candle holders! Save me from the candles and candle holders! I think it's time to institute a gifting policy like Nadine's: no more knicknacks, please.