9 Things I Decluttered When I Became an Empty Nester

When my children left for college, they took the belongings they needed with them. Over time, they’d come back to collect some things they realized they wanted, too. Five years and a few degrees later, I was left with the stuff I realized that my husband and I no longer needed in this phase of our lives. 

After years of walking by unoccupied bedrooms and opening still-full closets and drawers, I knew it was time to declutter — getting myself to actually do it was another story. It takes physical and emotional energy to empty a closet, but once I pulled myself together, I asked myself what I still needed, and what I could realistically get rid of, and then moved onto the rest of the home. Here are the nine things I decluttered when I became an empty nester. 

My children were masters of waiting until we got home from extracurricular activities, ate dinner, and started preparing for bed to mention they had a project due the next morning. As such, I became masterful at having just the right assortment of craft supplies on hand so I wouldn’t have to make a dash to the store. 

After half a decade of those items sitting untouched, I figured it was time to let my locker of supplies go. I got rid of the locker, too. As a former teacher, I know better than to trash such valuables, so I called up a teacher friend and donated the items to her class. 

For some reason, even though both our children had flown the nest, their closets were still full of clothes. Most of what was left behind was either too small or unwanted. I figured if they were going to come back for any of it, they would have done so by now. 

I did a complete overhaul of both of their closets, hanging on to only a few pieces that brought back memories. The rest, I donated. 

Nowadays, my husband and I can load the car for a beach trip without making multiple trips back and forth in the house. That hasn’t always been the case. When the kids were little, we had to pack enough clothes for everyone, plus toys, floats, buckets, shovels, and whatever else might keep everyone entertained for hours. Over the years, our collection of beach things had taken over more than its fair share of our garage.

Now, give me a beach chair, a good book, and a clear view of the water, and I’m good. I happily cleared some space in our garage by saying goodbye to excess beach gear that we no longer need.

My next order of business was to attack the two decades’ worth of childhood memorabilia in the house. As you might imagine, sorting through this pile took the longest. I’d pick up something one of the kids made and forget I was supposed to be sorting, which is why it’s best to save this task for last so you can take your time. My mind would, instead, drift to fond memories. Nonetheless, I was on a mission and had to stay focused. 

Except for a few sentimental pieces, I took photos of the items and discarded the rest (of course, with the kids’ approval). Turns out, they agreed that digital versions of the masterpieces would work just fine for nostalgia’s sake.

When my kids got apartments of their own, they took some furniture from their old bedrooms, and I was glad they could use it. I’ll tell you what else I was glad about: I could finally see a little more of the floor.

Since I was already in clear-out mode, I used the opportunity to remove excess furniture like desks and game console stands no one was using. I kept some things that still felt like them, and now there’s a little more room to walk around in each bedroom. 

Our junk drawer was where I put anything I’d promised myself I’d deal with later. When the kids were home and we were trying to get dinner on the table or the family out the door for practice, it was easy to toss a charger or a hair tie in there and keep moving. After they moved out, I was still digging through tangled cords and loose change just to find a pen. Then, I’d finally had enough. 

Once I emptied the drawer, I could see how much of it had piled up simply because I’d never stopped to sort it. I put back what I still used and found a home for the loose change. Now when I open the drawer for a pen, I can actually find one.

School notices, report cards, and class awards that once felt important and urgent were somehow still taking up space in the home office long after the dates had passed. Years of keeping up with things for the sake of documentation had turned into excess clutter. 

I finally sorted through the outdated stacks of paperwork, keeping only the essential documents, which turned out to be a small fraction of what was crammed into the drawers and file boxes. 

I love decorating for the holidays, and when my kids were little, seeing their faces light up was half the fun. My attic and storage closets were full of inflatables for Halloween and Christmas, colorful eggs and bunnies for Easter, and hearts for Valentine’s Day. With the kids grown and gone, my holiday decor has evolved into something that could hold its own in a festive magazine spread. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

Now that I’m an empty nester, I’ve let go of the inflatables and discarded most of the old decor I was holding onto. I still enjoy changing things up for each holiday, and it feels a whole lot more manageable when I can get to what I want without digging through three bins to find it.

For years, my calendar was filled with everybody in my house’s events, activities, and appointments. At one glimpse I could tell you who needed to be where and at what time. Then, the kids moved out and the squares on my calendar got some breathing room. It took me a while to get used to seeing blank spaces on the calendar, but these days, my husband and I might wake up on a Saturday and decide right then what we want to do, which is a beautiful thing.

I still have a complicated relationship with this empty nest. I’m proud of the lives my kids are building, yet I still catch myself wishing I could peep in and see them as I walk past their bedrooms. One thing’s for sure: I’ve made room in my home for whatever this next chapter holds for me.