In every good marriage – or at least every marriage that has a chance of surviving in this town – there needs to be one hoarder and one, shall I say, chucker. One spouse who has trouble giving away the old toys and T-shirts, and one who opens the closet and immediately wonders what can be given away.

Our city might be called the Big Apple, but for most of us, it’s more akin to the Big Squeeze. We maximize every square foot of our apartments, hire consultants to help us choose the right equipment to make the most of our closets, and discover highly unusual places to store paraphernalia such as skis, sleds, bikes, and strollers.

Never are these skills of creative storing and decisive giving away more necessary than when raising children. I remember being told that when you have a baby all you really need are some diapers and clothes, but somehow, when my first child was born, I left Albee’s, the Upper West Side’s answer to Buy Buy Baby, with two strollers, a car seat, a swing, a bassinet, a bouncy seat, a BabyBjorn, a Pack ‘N Play, an ExerSaucer, and an enormous rocking chair and ottoman.

“You don’t see New Yorkers lining up to lend their friends their cars or houses in the Hamptons,” said a friend of mine with two children. “But their bassinet? ‘Please, borrow it,’ they insist. ‘And won’t you need a swing? You just won’t survive without one. Why don’t you just take all this stuff and give it back in say, two years, when we’re ready to have another baby.'”

At least it’s obvious when it’s time to give the baby equipment away for good. As for other child-oriented things cluttering up the apartment, it’s less clear. Puzzles, board games, skateboards, hockey sticks, ice skates, helmets, favorite outfits, computer games, and old tennis racquets – someone needs to decide that it’s time to part with the outgrown goodies and take them to the local Goodwill store.

For some of us, this is harder than it is for others. Particularly if the items themselves are hardly used. Particularly if you’re only 98% sure you’re not having another child, instead of 100%.

“I think the men have a harder time letting go of stuff,” said a friend of mine, whose husband loves his old shirts and books and anything that reminds him of his college days. “He sees me giving away the kids’ stuff, and I think it makes him realize that the kids are getting bigger, and he can’t face that. He knows it’s got to be done, but it’s too emotional for him to actually see,” she added with mock sympathy.

Without a spacious suburban basement, attic, or garage, we New Yorkers don’t have the luxury of just putting things out of sight. And as for those storage bins in the basement that some of us are lucky enough to have, well, they fill up quickly.

“I used to be pretty casual about giving stuff away, but now I’m a zealot,” said a mother of three. “Anytime I buy something or the kids have a birthday and receive a bunch of gifts, out goes another load of stuff. It’s a good way to teach the kids the value of taking care of their things, as well as learning that there are others less fortunate who can really appreciate what they are no longer using.”

If birthday parties and the gifts they yield result in a little spring cleaning, then the impending birth of a second or third or fourth child results in closet cleaning that is nearly religious in its fervor. “Nesting” is what the psychologists call it.

According to an online site dedicated to pregnancy, PregnancyWeekly, around the fifth month of pregnancy, the “nesting” instinct can set in. Often it can be seen as a sign of the onset of labor. “This is an uncontrollable urge to clean one’s house brought on by a desire to prepare a nest for the new baby, to tie up loose ends of old projects, and to organize your world,” reads the site.

The site goes on to explain that “nesting” is a primal instinct. “Just as you see birds making their nests, mothers-to-be do exactly the same thing. …Women have reported throwing away perfectly good sheets and towels in their home. There seems to be no end to the lengths a nesting mother will go to prepare for her upcoming arrival.”

Just about 40 weeks pregnant myself, I can personally attest to the uncontrollable nature of this nesting instinct. For the past few weeks, every time I walk into my apartment, I find myself asking what I could give away to make it look less cluttered. No matter that a couple of months ago I thought the place looked ordered and tidy. No matter that I’ve already spent the past couple of weeks cleaning out every single closet. I find the process so rewarding that I could start all over again, driving my husband mad in the process.

Now what purpose does the hoarder – in this case, my husband – serve in this relationship? He serves as the conscience. This spouse is the voice of reason that prevents the chucker, particularly the pregnant kind, from deciding that everything that isn’t nailed down needs to be given away. Although, now that I think about it, that isn’t such a bad idea.