Attachment Issues

For some time now, my mother has been asking my siblings and me to go through and get rid of all the "junk" we left at her (and my dad's) house when we moved out. She is under the impression that our ability to live without said "junk" for the years we've been living away from the nest is indication that we are probably able to part with it (or least move it to our respective houses). We, collectively, think this is preposterous! 

Of course, there are trunks in the attic with booties and christening gowns, baby dolls, handi-crafts, pompons, graduation tassels, so on, and so forth... that will remain welcome residents indefinitely. But, the star-studded clipping collage on the back of the closet door, the bookshelf trinkets, the photos frames, the desk drawer contents- not so much.

She (my mom) is a good sport about things, sending us home with a box everytime we are in town for a visit, reminding us that she has plans, on hold, for our rooms that she is unable to start because we haven't cleared out the spaces. And, she constantly threatens that she is "down sizing".

For fear that she might actually go ahead and get rid of my "junk" and maybe even find some sort of illicit highschool drinking party photos under the mattress that she could hang as leverage over my head for the rest of my life in the process (my mom is very good at that sort of parental guilt, even retrospectively... she's that good), I took a couple hours to slowly start the process of sorting through my left-overs while I visited last weekend.
 
Truth told, a large portion of the "junk" she has been referring to is, just that. But, there are also some gems I mostly forgot about. 

As you can see, my child-self possessed immense self-control. It was difficult to suppress the excitement and not open and start playing with these as I went through them (as a 26year old). I'm not sure how wee, little me did it... or why I didn't figure out how before I decapitated and scalped the Barbie and the Rockers gang... 

The real fun of sorting through this portion of my "junk" was rediscovering all the hand made multi-cultural dolls my parents and grandparents hooked me up with before I could even say my own name. These were never "playing" dolls. They've been living behind glass doors for most of their lives. GOOD THING! Who knows what would have happened to them without preservation! And, I'm pretty sure I could never have appreciated them as a child, the way I do as an adult. 

The dilema? Mike and I currently live in an 850 sq ft condo. There's no way we can cram any more crap into our space. In fact I, like my mom, am constantly trying to send things out. I could attempt to negotiate some attic space for them by granting future ownership to my unborn children... but what if my offspring don't possess my examplery restraint? I could ebay them, but... that's just silly, because nobody can put a price on sentimental value... And I think that little llama and his master are pretty necessary for my craft room...I obviously have a hard time letting go. What to do, what to do?