Friday, March 25, 2011

Moving On

Our attic is a mess. It runs the whole length of the house, and literally half of it is full of clothes that is either too small or too big. Seasonal clothes. Shoes. Bins and bins of them. Baby clothes is organized by size and sex. You can see our evolution from plastic bins to plastic bags that are more "smooshable." Is there a better word for this? Probably. But I can't think of one right now.
When Baby was born, the order of the bins became chaos as we tried to fish out the right sizes for the right sex.
Having our third child, I was excited to be able to give the "other sex" clothes away, and restore order to the "clothes monster." As it turned out, the girl clothes, since we had a boy. I've been planning this for months. A number of my friends were pregnant, and I was waiting for one of them to have a girl, but they all had boys, so I decided to start giving the boy clothes away as Baby started growing out of them.
Tonight, the first batch went, and although I had been so excited to do this, emotions came whirling at me. A wave of nostalgia came over me as I went through one of the girl bins last week, looking for white onesies. I would never have a baby girl again. Their time in our family is finished. And the girl clothes are just so cute! The clothes that went tonight, Baby was wearing just a few weeks ago. As I sorted the clothes into two piles, each for a friend, I thought of my first born, who wore these clothes six years ago. How can I put into words the sentiments that the clothes evoked? The milestones that our first born hit while wearing them.  Our favorite outfits. The laughter and the tears that came with having him enter our life. As I was carrying the bags down the stairs, I said to my husband, "Here's the first batch of Son and Baby's clothes to go, and you probably don't want to know which ones." He said, "Maybe there are some we want to the cute Peter Rabbit ones...." You don't want to know, I replied, and off I went. I was proud of myself for holding to the task at hand, but when my friend asked me if I want the clothes back when her son has grown out of them, I said, "No, I don't think so..." and later, "Can I think about it, and let you know?"

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