This year as summer continues, I've noticed an urge to declutter. Like, everything.
Can you relate? As a postpartum mom, I know I won't always be in this season. So many little pieces, little toys, tiny piles I keep tripping over. I feel like I'm tidying up constantly, only to discover there's somehow more that arrives.
Summer always leaves our house feeling full. Crayons, library books, little shoes, new toys from grandma, swim goggles that are absolutely essential for six weeks before disappearing into a basket. There are little rocks and leaves that Lily has carefully gathered and presented to us as treasures.
If your house feels the same way right now, I don't think that means you're doing anything wrong, it just means summer did its job. Yours might not look like crayons and swim goggles, maybe it's garden tools, or stacks of magazines you meant to get to, or gifts you're still holding onto from people you love. Whatever it is, the trick isn't getting rid of everything, it's figuring out what's actually earned its keep before a new season of stuff arrives.
So before the holidays hit and retailers begin their campaign to convince me my life would be complete if I only bought one more candle, here's what I'm decluttering this fall, and what's actually helped.
1. Let go of any guilt
Whenever I find something tucked away, left in a place of organizing paralysis that also makes me feel guilt, I try to decide: I'll use it, or I'll find someone who will.
Case in point: the most darling little Indian dresses, the ones Shinod picked up for Lily on a trip last year (!!!!) because we can never find them here for anywhere close to that price. I loved them so much I bought ahead. A year later, half still have tags on, sized for a Lily who's already grown past them.
I'm learning that guilt isn't a good enough reason to keep something, and it feels genuinely lighter the moment it's out the door.
2. Can I take care of this well?
Owning things is often the easy part. It's taking care of them and finding a place for them to live that can feel hard (for me, at least?).
Lately I've stopped asking, "Do I need this?" and started asking, "Can I take care of this well? Will it be used often?" A small shift, but it's made decisions that used to feel agonizing feel lighter and freeing, which I'm grateful for.
The swim goggles belong. So do the extra crayons, the serving dishes that only appear when company comes over, and the charging cables nobody will toss because they might be helpful someday. There's also a Costco-sized case of spaghetti sauce from a run a few months back that seemed like a great idea in the checkout line and has taken up a shelf ever since.
3. Protect what matters most to you
I'm reminding myself that every yes is also a no to something else. And that what feels good right now, isn't always what's best for me in the long-term. Intentionally slowing down long enough to refocus, pare down, make space to choose.
This year it's been a string of out-of-city trips, each for a genuinely good reason, all piling up until I looked at the month ahead and felt overwhelmed.
What's helping is a shift in what I'm protecting for: prioritizing relationships and building our village, even when it's inconvenient, choosing commitments that fill my cup and practicing generosity as a family by giving our time. It's easy to say yes to everything out of love. It's harder, and I think more loving, to say yes on purpose to fewer things, so the people we love actually get us, not just our leftover time.
We want to be a family that makes space for beauty, hospitality, generosity and the people I love. Perhaps this is one of the many things I carried home from our years in India, and from watching the women at Basha build a life around that kind of generosity. The homes I loved most weren't perfect. People in south Asian culture just show up unannounced, tea is made, conversation is had, houses are truly lived in and life happens... right in the middle of it all.
4. "Would I buy it again?"
More and more, I'm convinced that the things we welcome into our homes shape us in ways we don't always notice. It's part of why I wrote about what actually makes a kantha throw one of a kind, the ones worth keeping tend to have a story, and a reason, behind them.
I'm trying to stop and ask myself whether I'd buy it again today before I purchase. I'm not interested in owning as little as possible. I'm simply trying to be more thoughtful about what I allow into our home, our calendars, and our lives.
Honestly, we've been wondering if we need a bigger house. More room to host, to grow our family, maybe even foster someday. But lately I keep thinking we might already have enough room if we intentionally remove things that aren't serving us any longer. None of this happens in one weekend, and it doesn't have to.
The last few weeks, we've been choosing one area and focusing a Saturday morning on it together.
Practically, here's where we're slowly simplifying around the house:
- The pantry
- The garage
- The entryway that's become a landing pad for everyone's things
- The kitchen drawer you cringe a little every time you open
- The stack of papers on the counter
Clear one small space. Skip one obligation. Ask the question once and see how it feels.
Also, if anyone needs a pair of toddler swim goggles, I know where to find some.
