Baby Clothes

It is 12:17 east coast time and I am up sorting baby clothes. What am I doing that for? Earlier this week a friend dropped off some freaking sweet vintage Fisher Price Little People houses and told me she was doing a consignment sale. I was all like"Damn that's a lot of work." then she was all like " It's not so bad when you get the check for it." Hmmm... this makes my light bulb go ping! I always need money. Since we are saving up for the down payment for our house my husband is going all Mr. Scrooge all over our asses. And I want a fancy nice umbrella stroller, I had to go to Hoboken, NJ with a crappy one, it was embarrassing.  Why so late? Because I fucked around all day...all week really. I spent the day with friends because my living room is covered in at least 200 pieces of baby clothes from all 4 of my children (sadly this is only a portion of what I am up against) I put it off. Why did you put it off? UMM hello??? It looks like the house threw up all of the baby clothes from the past NINE FUCKING YEARS! I thought the hardest part was going to be sorting , inputting and tagging all these pieces. Boy was I wrong! I now know how hoarders start.

This is me in 10 years after I have driven my family and friends away with my useless shit.

I got into the groove, I'm Facebooking, I'm Pinteresting and knocking this shit out. Then I come across a shirt Baby wore to our wedding. Insert sad emoticon here, I can't get rid of this! Put it in the keep pile. ( like he will EVER wear this again and neither will my grandchildren)  Turn on Pandora ... okay.. I got this..( my head is bobbing and I am singing like the late Whitney Houston) Each piece of clothing is getting increasingly harder to take my hands off of. Then this song comes on:

                                        

And I am holding a polo picky wore on his second birthday, and I fucking loose it. You have to have heard this song or listen to it now to understand why. I am in the middle of my living room surrounded by a thousand memories, crying my fucking eyes out into this shirt. And all I can do is think about how I held these kids in my arms and hugged and kissed them and (warning I am bawling so this part is going to get a bit rambly and incoherent ) I see myself at 19 having a party for him, and holding my baby girl in my arms. Doodle in this outfit as a baby, and Baby and Princess in that sleeper and I remember how much love I had for them , and I can literally feel their weight in my empty arms. I think of where we have been and how we struggled to get this far and how we are all better people for it. 

I consider myself an agnostic, once a devote Catholic. I lost faith in my God years ago, how could he let me get hit and sexually abused? But if there is something beyond this, and he is a benevolent creator , he will let me have an eternity reliving all of the good moments that have made this life worth living.  This will mean I am not saying good-bye to these clothes and everything the represent, just an hasta luego , so long for now. 

This motherhood thing is total bullshit. Really. You spend so much time care taking and wishing they would grow the fuck up and make their god damned beds ( I am looking at you Picky and Princess) by the time you actually get there , you wish they would go back to being those tiny defenseless creatures that looked to you as if you are the moon and stars. Picky will be 9 soon, I am half way done. And I am not ready for this next stage. I am not ready to say good bye to him (ask me tomorrow after his next tantrum the answer might be different) I can say good bye to these clothes that are just taking up space in my home.  

Simple Song Shins
Live lightning crashes