Another battle lost
In the eternal war for the control of my freedom, I lost another key battle yesterday. And like most of the battles I've fought since meeting my wife on the fields of matrimonial combat, I didn't even realize I was fighting until I had already lost.
Here's the story. My wife and I had our second child a few months ago. We live in a four-bedroom townhouse. Here is how those four rooms were being used before my son was born:
See, the hobby room was the last bastion of "my stuff" left in the house, and it was fiercely contested territory. A veritable No Man's Land littered with the corpses of past arguments. To fully understand why so many battles have been fought over it, a little background on what it represents to both sides is in order.
When two people get married, they both bring with them a certain amount of baggage, some physical, some emotional. For my part, the emotional baggage mostly consisted of an only child's natural tendency to think about himself first and foremost, and the physical baggage consisted of a lot of things from my past that I had decided that I still "needed" to have. As for my wife's emotional baggage, I'm still trying to figure that out, but the physical baggage was literally that - luggage and a lot of clothes. Lots and lots of clothes. I'm talking like 20 pairs of jeans and god knows how many pairs of shoes. Imelda Marcos would be proud of her shoe collection. Now to be fair, when we got married my wife did work in the fashion business, so she got a huge discount, but she still had a flipping lot of clothes. More on that later.
Back to my stuff. I have (well, had, but that's jumping ahead) a lot of stuff from when I was growing up. A lot of really important stuff that played a huge role in the formation of the person I am today. I have a lot of toys. Warning: if you're one of those people that think it's ridiculous for a grown person to still own toys from their childhood (like my wife), you better stop reading now b/c the rest of this post will probably just piss you off.
I still have most of the Star Wars toys I had when I was growing up. No, I don't take them out and play with them or re-enact scenes from the movies when I'm taking a bath. And I have a lot of my old G.I. Joe toys, too - not all of them, just the cooler ones and the ones I didn't blow up with fireworks. Why do I still have these? My wife is convinced that the reason I still have all these things and refuse to throw them away is because I'm simply an incurable pack rat. While that's partially true, I tell her that the reason I hold on to all these playthings from my youth is because now that I have a son, I want to be able to share these things that meant so much to me with him, so he might be able to enjoy them too. But like so many things we tell ourselves and those that we love, I've realized that that's not really true. First of all, my son's not even a year old yet, and by the time he's ten or so, the toys he'll have to choose from will be so advanced, he'll look at my carefully preserved Star Wars figures and be like "You mean I have to move these things myself? Don't they do anything?" And as much as it pains me to admit it, even if I chain him down in front of the TV and make him watch the original three Star Wars movies over and over again every day for a month straight, he still won't feel the same attachment to that dusty old X-Wing with the peeling stickers or the original Darth Vader with the cheesy plastic lightsaber as I do. The other reason I've held on to them is because I've told my wife that I plan to sell them on eBay, and that much like cognac and fine wine, good toys only appreciate in value. Here's a safety tip guys: your wife will usually let you keep crap that she really wants you to get rid of if you promise that you're going to sell it on eBay...someday. Just use the eBay ploy sparingly, and actually sell something once in a while. And don't tell her what you buy with the money you made from selling your stuff. Those are the rules.
So back to the hobby room. I have fought many battles over keeping my stuff, and haven't always won. My prized playthings have been whittled down in a battle of attrition until all I have left fits on a few shelves in the hobby room. Never mind that my wife continued to grow her arsenal - besides her normal clothes, she also got maternity clothes. And not once but twice! Sure, she's gotten rid of some of her old clothes, but my portion of our closet - much like the rest of the house - continues to get smaller day by day.
I should have seen it coming the first night that the wife moved the bassinet into the hobby room that the battle had started. Now, she had secured a foot hold, and just like Omaha Beach on D-Day she dug in. "You know, honey, your son is going to need his own room someday. And this is the only room we have left." And with those simple words, the battle was over before I even realized it had begun. Her tactics were beautiful - how could I argue with wanting my son to have a room? If I did, I would be the petty, selfish one, and all of my son's future failings in life would be traced back to the simple fact that I did not give him his own room. That left only one possible conclusion: I capitulated and my stuff would have to go.
It wasn't a total defeat - I was able to save most of my "valuables" and put them in storage, but now it's costing me $60 a month to hold on to my childhood. And I know it's just a matter of time before I start getting reminded of this fact. I'm sure the next time I want to go out to dinner or the movies my wife will say "Are you sure we can afford to? It would be a lot easier if we weren't paying to store all your stuff..."
So once again, I fought for my freedom - in this case to be an immature, spoiled manchild - and lost. Slowly, surely, battle by battle, my wife is winning the war and turning me into a responsible and caring adult. But I'm not done fighting yet.
Oh, and that thing about chaining my son and making him watch Star Wars movies...I'm totally doing that.
Here's the story. My wife and I had our second child a few months ago. We live in a four-bedroom townhouse. Here is how those four rooms were being used before my son was born:
- Bedroom #1: Home office
- Bedroom #2: Our room
- Bedroom #3: Duaghter's room
- Bedroom #4: Hobby/storage room
See, the hobby room was the last bastion of "my stuff" left in the house, and it was fiercely contested territory. A veritable No Man's Land littered with the corpses of past arguments. To fully understand why so many battles have been fought over it, a little background on what it represents to both sides is in order.
When two people get married, they both bring with them a certain amount of baggage, some physical, some emotional. For my part, the emotional baggage mostly consisted of an only child's natural tendency to think about himself first and foremost, and the physical baggage consisted of a lot of things from my past that I had decided that I still "needed" to have. As for my wife's emotional baggage, I'm still trying to figure that out, but the physical baggage was literally that - luggage and a lot of clothes. Lots and lots of clothes. I'm talking like 20 pairs of jeans and god knows how many pairs of shoes. Imelda Marcos would be proud of her shoe collection. Now to be fair, when we got married my wife did work in the fashion business, so she got a huge discount, but she still had a flipping lot of clothes. More on that later.
Back to my stuff. I have (well, had, but that's jumping ahead) a lot of stuff from when I was growing up. A lot of really important stuff that played a huge role in the formation of the person I am today. I have a lot of toys. Warning: if you're one of those people that think it's ridiculous for a grown person to still own toys from their childhood (like my wife), you better stop reading now b/c the rest of this post will probably just piss you off.
I still have most of the Star Wars toys I had when I was growing up. No, I don't take them out and play with them or re-enact scenes from the movies when I'm taking a bath. And I have a lot of my old G.I. Joe toys, too - not all of them, just the cooler ones and the ones I didn't blow up with fireworks. Why do I still have these? My wife is convinced that the reason I still have all these things and refuse to throw them away is because I'm simply an incurable pack rat. While that's partially true, I tell her that the reason I hold on to all these playthings from my youth is because now that I have a son, I want to be able to share these things that meant so much to me with him, so he might be able to enjoy them too. But like so many things we tell ourselves and those that we love, I've realized that that's not really true. First of all, my son's not even a year old yet, and by the time he's ten or so, the toys he'll have to choose from will be so advanced, he'll look at my carefully preserved Star Wars figures and be like "You mean I have to move these things myself? Don't they do anything?" And as much as it pains me to admit it, even if I chain him down in front of the TV and make him watch the original three Star Wars movies over and over again every day for a month straight, he still won't feel the same attachment to that dusty old X-Wing with the peeling stickers or the original Darth Vader with the cheesy plastic lightsaber as I do. The other reason I've held on to them is because I've told my wife that I plan to sell them on eBay, and that much like cognac and fine wine, good toys only appreciate in value. Here's a safety tip guys: your wife will usually let you keep crap that she really wants you to get rid of if you promise that you're going to sell it on eBay...someday. Just use the eBay ploy sparingly, and actually sell something once in a while. And don't tell her what you buy with the money you made from selling your stuff. Those are the rules.
So back to the hobby room. I have fought many battles over keeping my stuff, and haven't always won. My prized playthings have been whittled down in a battle of attrition until all I have left fits on a few shelves in the hobby room. Never mind that my wife continued to grow her arsenal - besides her normal clothes, she also got maternity clothes. And not once but twice! Sure, she's gotten rid of some of her old clothes, but my portion of our closet - much like the rest of the house - continues to get smaller day by day.
I should have seen it coming the first night that the wife moved the bassinet into the hobby room that the battle had started. Now, she had secured a foot hold, and just like Omaha Beach on D-Day she dug in. "You know, honey, your son is going to need his own room someday. And this is the only room we have left." And with those simple words, the battle was over before I even realized it had begun. Her tactics were beautiful - how could I argue with wanting my son to have a room? If I did, I would be the petty, selfish one, and all of my son's future failings in life would be traced back to the simple fact that I did not give him his own room. That left only one possible conclusion: I capitulated and my stuff would have to go.
It wasn't a total defeat - I was able to save most of my "valuables" and put them in storage, but now it's costing me $60 a month to hold on to my childhood. And I know it's just a matter of time before I start getting reminded of this fact. I'm sure the next time I want to go out to dinner or the movies my wife will say "Are you sure we can afford to? It would be a lot easier if we weren't paying to store all your stuff..."
So once again, I fought for my freedom - in this case to be an immature, spoiled manchild - and lost. Slowly, surely, battle by battle, my wife is winning the war and turning me into a responsible and caring adult. But I'm not done fighting yet.
Oh, and that thing about chaining my son and making him watch Star Wars movies...I'm totally doing that.
posted by Nebbitt at
2:16 PM
4 Comments:
Oh my god! You should meet my brother! His fiancé has just learned that it is not worth it to argue with him about his toys. He still buys them! Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, it goes on and on! He still has all of his Garbage Patch Kid cards everything! She'll say something every once in while and we have to hear about how valuable these things are that he will never ever sell! I get where you are coming from. Well, at least you have a beautiful baby boy to replace your toys! I'm sure he is much more fun to play with.
Actually, I know I have a problem, but after arguing for so many years about why I should be able to keep my toys I can't very well admit I was wrong...so I'll just start getting rid of them piece by piece. And I still buy new ones from time to time too! But I figure it's the male version of shoes!
I guess the part that gets me mad sometimes is that it's not like I started buying toys AFTER we got married - I had most of the stuff before we said "I do" so the way I see it, the mrs. knew what she was getting into. So when she tries to get rid of things now, I take it as she's trying to make me change, and being the stubborn guy I am, I resist. Luckily for Luke Skywalker and Sgt. Slaughter, my wife hasn't figured out that if she tried a little more lovin' she could get me to get rid of everything. Oh well, at least I get to keep the toys...
Garbage Pail Kids? Even I have to say that's over the line. You gotta stop somewhere.
lilith - forget this part: yes, my son and my daughter are much more fun than any of my toys, even more fun than my Playstation, and that's saying something! Every day I get to spend with them is magic, even if they don't have the Kung Fu Grip!
I really expected that you would loose your room long before your son was born. I like the storage idea.
To anyone else who reads this...He ain't shittin'! His wife has a hell of a lot of clothes!!!
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