So, I have a little "dilemon." That's dee-lemon. Like dilemma w/ a lemon. That's BFF speak. From years ago. As is every quotable quote from 1980s romantic comedies "Best Friends" and "About Last Night." And lines from anything Molly Ringwald and Judd Nelson every appeared in. And every movie about a prom. Or the color pink.
So, my dilemon is this. My children's old lunch boxes and backpacks. Not so much backpacks, but definitely lunch boxes.
I remember mine. All of them. Metal ones. In order by school year. Charles Schulz's Peanuts. Holly Hobbie. A pink one w/ a blonde, girly girl whose name escapes me. Maybe "Little Miss?" Strawberry Shortcake. Grease! And then I switched from licensed merchandise because that would've been lame-o in upper grades and started taking my lunch in forgettable fashion. Forgettable because I cannot for the life of me remember how I took my lunch. Maybe it was about then that I turned to the cafeteria and snack bar for french fries w/ mustard. Or a burrito supreme. Or beef stew in a can with crackers stacked on top. I don't recall. But, what I DO recall are my old metal lunch boxes.
THAT MY MOTHER THREW AWAY! Now, she should suffer NO guilt for this because if I had them NOW, I probably would do the same thing because they would probably be all laced w/ rust and lead and filth. (Even more so than TODAY'S lunch boxes.) But, there for a few years, I teased her about GETTING RID OF MY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES!! And, for MAKING ME WEAR GLITTERY ARGYLE SOCKS!! In PUBLIC!! But, to her credit, she DID save all my "Tiger Beat" magazines and Judy Blume novels and they're all tucked away safely in my attic.
It is sad or silly to some, I suppose, that I am able to assign such sentimental value to a lunch box. But, I've done so. Big time.
And FURTHER in my defense, those of you who know me well know I'm NOT a pack rat. I'm a "giver-awayer" of the highest degree. If The Tall One doesn't hang on tight to his endless stock of obscenely holey "work shirts," they are GONE with the next trash bag. I do NOT have years' worth of newspapers and plastic grocery sacks stacked in my pantry. I do not hoard empty baked bean cans because they happen to be the boys' favorite vegetable. And I don't save bread wrappers. Or the twisty things on the end ... much.
But, as I look at the "Toy Story II" lunch box that The Ones Big AND Short carried to FIVE YEARS of pre-school, I'm moved by its memories. The Big One, at age three, eating his peanut butter sandwich in preschool while listening to the "treat" that is country music radio AND his favorite song at the time, "I Wanna Talk About ME." The Short One w/ his long, blonde baby locks, toting the same lunch box to pre-school w/ no clue who Woody, Buzz, Jessie even were ... oh, Lord, and the way he criiiiiiiied during his first year of school. And the way he SAT all thru lunch, even tho' I'd told his teacher, "Ain't no way he's gonna sit thru lunch." The way I tried to teach him the school songs his brother sang years before in hopes of COMFORTING HIM and the way he criiiiiied when the teacher actually sang those songs. Who knew The Weather Song could be such a heartrending dirge?
Then, there's the red backpack both of them carried, prior to their big elementary school backpacks, that is now too small for anything other than a change of underwear and a couple of baby wipes in a Baggie.
And, finally, the tire-shaped Lightening McQueen lunch box The Short One got for his VERY OWN during his last year of pre-school because I couldn't stand NOT to see his face when I brought home his beloved movie character in lunch box form WITH an attached water bottle that ALWAYS leaked and a lid that never opened all the way. So, the carrots and grapes that found their way to the back of Lightening ALWAYS came home untouched.
What am I to DOOOOO with these things? Take a picture and file it away in a photo album? Cut off the lunch box lid and put it in their "baby boxes," which aren't really "baby"-sized but actually quite large. (Imagine that?)
They're kinda stinky in that "cafeteria/kid food" kinda way. Toy Story might even have a bit of mold. I know!! I know!! Pitch 'em!! My kids who don't seem to get worked up over school supplies or food containers in the shape of the actual food like I do, are NOT gonna CARE!!
Maybe if I do it for the sake of their health. Yeah, that's it. By tossing the boxes, I'm saving their young lives, lest they be ended too soon by deadly lunch box bacteria. Or lead. Or rust. Or mold. I'll save their lives like my mom saved mine all those many tossings ago.
And break my heart.
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