I am ending my last week of summer with a bang.
By cleaning out my closets.
My clothes just need some weeding. And hanging and I’m hoping to find that pair of jeans and single flip flop I lost.
Owen has a few clothes that need to go. but mostly I just need to match up his shoes and throw out the things with holes and get rid of all the AWOL legos that have made it in there. And pray that I don’t find anything that used to be alive.
But Tess’s closet is in the biggest need. It seems like everytime I do laundry I need to sort through her clothes and pack up the ones that no longer fit.
Because she seems to wake up bigger every day.
The only thing that isn’t growing is her hair.
So I filled two trashbags with clothes that no longer fit to pass on to a friend and another to Goodwill.
And I’m not a saver. I’m happy to get rid of stuff.
But everytime I go through my kids clothes I get a little nostalgic.
Her Easter dress and the outfit she wore to her birthday party and the jammies with the feet in them. I almost want to hold on to them even though it would be silly.
And I’m shocked that they have such a short life span. That they already don’t fit. That this summer’s clothes will all need to be replaced by next summer.
That kind of growth, frustrates more than my wallet.
My husband left a sweatshirt on the train last week in Seattle. His favorite. That he has had for longer than I’ve known him. I’d guess it was 18 or so years old. I don’t have anything that old in my closet, but I do have a few things from college which is more years than I want to add up and definitely in the double digits. And I shop more than I wish I did. But I mostly buy the same sizes. And if I’m growing it certainly isn’t in the right directions.
My son inches up his doorframe. Slowly but surely.
My daughter’s clothes barely make it through the season.
But my growth is a lot harder to guage.
And often it feels like I am not doing it at all.
And I’m sure that isn’t true.
But some seasons feel like it.
And this is one of them.
I look back and feel like I’m in the same place I was over a decade ago.
That I have changed even less than my favorite shirts that have been washed so many times that they are thin and soft and shouldn't be worn in public.
And I wish their was some kind of inventory I could do. That I could just bag up those habits and mistakes that I keep hoping to outgrow. And get rid of them for good.
And somehow they keep showing back up in my closet.
And sometimes I even put them on.
But, when I’m done with Tess’s clothes.
I’ll move on to those really hard things I need to get rid of.
The kind that don’t fit on hangers.
And if that isn’t growth, I don’t know what is……….