too soon for nostalgia...
wow, when it hits it hits hard, and rather unexpectedly.
mostly due to our lack of space here at casa lisaandyandarlo, i have been meticulous about putting away arlo's things as he outgrows them. a simple system has evolved, wherein once outgrown, if its ugly or i didn't like it, it goes to goodwill. however, if it was something we liked, or something very special, or something that could be worn by a girl, perhaps, maybe one day (??), it goes into a giant rubbermaid container that has been living in the dining room since early summer.
i've been a bit lazy in the last few weeks, and instead of actually putting the outgrown items in the container (wherein there is another system of gallon ziploc bags, labeled by content and size), i've just been throwing them on top. the pile was getting higher and higher.
so this morning, while andy took arlo on their daily morning adventure (starbucks and a walk), i tackled the rubbermaid container. and, upon opening it, burst into tears.
the little navy and white striped onesie that made him look so french that every time our eyes met, i couldn't help saying "hoah hoah hoah [you know, that french noise] mon frere!": in the box.
the little blue onesie with the lion and "roar" printed on it (that made everyone who looked at him laugh and say "roar" back): in the box.
countless pajamas that i spent the wee hours of the morning staring at while i tried to shush him back to sleep: in the box.
all those polka dotted pants, and ohmygod, the little tshirts from kaiser: in the box.
i don't know why i'm keeping all of it. i'm sure arlo won't spend hours pouring over his baby clothes when he's, like, fourteen and wears all black and plays whatever the 2024 version of dungeons and dragons is (what a scary thought). and i don't know if we'll ever have another baby. when amy came here two weeks ago, she took one look around the kitchen and said, "you guys need another 100 square feet," and she was only in the KITCHEN when she said so, and she was STILL being extremely conservative. so, there's a room issue. i'm also pretty old, so there's a that issue. plus now with both andy and i being self-employed, there's a THAT issue.
but still. i wash and fold the tiny little pants, the tinier little socks, and god, those tshirts with the fold-up cuffs, and i put them into ziplocks, labeled "pajamas, 3 mos." "newborn 1", "newborn 2", "favorites (first year)", "special! (first year)", and stack them nicely in the rubbermaid, wiping tears.
mostly due to our lack of space here at casa lisaandyandarlo, i have been meticulous about putting away arlo's things as he outgrows them. a simple system has evolved, wherein once outgrown, if its ugly or i didn't like it, it goes to goodwill. however, if it was something we liked, or something very special, or something that could be worn by a girl, perhaps, maybe one day (??), it goes into a giant rubbermaid container that has been living in the dining room since early summer.
i've been a bit lazy in the last few weeks, and instead of actually putting the outgrown items in the container (wherein there is another system of gallon ziploc bags, labeled by content and size), i've just been throwing them on top. the pile was getting higher and higher.
so this morning, while andy took arlo on their daily morning adventure (starbucks and a walk), i tackled the rubbermaid container. and, upon opening it, burst into tears.
the little navy and white striped onesie that made him look so french that every time our eyes met, i couldn't help saying "hoah hoah hoah [you know, that french noise] mon frere!": in the box.
the little blue onesie with the lion and "roar" printed on it (that made everyone who looked at him laugh and say "roar" back): in the box.
countless pajamas that i spent the wee hours of the morning staring at while i tried to shush him back to sleep: in the box.
all those polka dotted pants, and ohmygod, the little tshirts from kaiser: in the box.
i don't know why i'm keeping all of it. i'm sure arlo won't spend hours pouring over his baby clothes when he's, like, fourteen and wears all black and plays whatever the 2024 version of dungeons and dragons is (what a scary thought). and i don't know if we'll ever have another baby. when amy came here two weeks ago, she took one look around the kitchen and said, "you guys need another 100 square feet," and she was only in the KITCHEN when she said so, and she was STILL being extremely conservative. so, there's a room issue. i'm also pretty old, so there's a that issue. plus now with both andy and i being self-employed, there's a THAT issue.
but still. i wash and fold the tiny little pants, the tinier little socks, and god, those tshirts with the fold-up cuffs, and i put them into ziplocks, labeled "pajamas, 3 mos." "newborn 1", "newborn 2", "favorites (first year)", "special! (first year)", and stack them nicely in the rubbermaid, wiping tears.
Comments