On top of everything, my house is a complete mess. We successfully got the Christmas decor stashed away until next year, thanks in large part to the diligency of my husband. But, in his frenzy to rid our living space of the boughs of holly, he unearthed the crates upon crates of children's clothes that we've accumulated. All of it was scattered around the upstairs...and he reorganized it by gender and age. There must have been 10 bins of clothes!
"Betsy, we have to consider getting rid of the baby clothes...especially Calvin's stuff."
"Betsy, here's the clothes Hazy has grown out of already...can we get rid of it now."
>sigh<
I'm not a hoarder, but "getting rid" of my babies' clothes? I'm just not ready. It's like saying goodbye to my newborn babies all over again...those little footed sleepers, the tiny overalls, the adorably small dresses and rompers. I can't do it. Even while I celebrate each passing milestone of all three of their lives...I mourn them at the same time. I wonder...will this be the last time Violet wants to kiss me goodbye on her way to meet her friends...or the last time Calvin tells me he's my "fella"...or the last time Hazy chews on her toes. It's downright depressing, actually. So, I hang on to their clothes as tangible keepsakes of these memories....at least for a little while longer. Marcus graciously carried all the bins back down the stairs and packed them in the crawlspace. He's labeled them "To Donate"...a reminder to me that I won't be able to recapture their babyhood, but at least I can delay thinking about it for awhile.
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