Last night I went through boxes and boxes of baby clothes with my sister-in-law. She took three big boxes full of clothes, my bassinet, and the receiving blankets. I have a little bitty box of special clothes, four feet of empty space in the top of the spare room closet, and a big hole left in my heart.
I know that it's just clothes, but it's also the end of a precious stage in my children's lives. They will never be babies again. This September Monkey starts first grade; it will be Monster's last year of being home with me before he goes to preschool. Going through those teeny outfits is a reminder of how big my children are getting and how much they have changed.
It's not all bad. I have loved seeing how they've grown and hearing about their experiences and all the things they've learned. I love every new word that comes out of their mouths (even when Monkey dropped an F-bomb in the most unexpected way). I love seeing them grow in independence and maturity. I love toddler logic. There are so, so many things I love about seeing them grow up; it's just hard to let go of who they used to be.
We have to leave things behind in order to move ahead. I may not feel better tomorrow, but those clothes are just that much less that is holding me back from enjoying the next stage of life. There are so many more adventures to be had.
Ohhh, I want to hear the details of the F-bomb story!
ReplyDeleteWe were discussing how we don't use rude words in our house, like oh my God, stupid, idiot and so on; and Monkey added, "Yeah, and we definitely don't say f***."
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