Sunday, August 30, 2009

Basket Case

"Do you have the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at once?" - Greenday

I had to take a break from cleaning out my closet. Where does all this crap come from?

I have clothing ranging from size 14 back down to size ten. . .the tens are all too big now, but I refuse to buy anything smaller for fear I'll jinx myself.

There are boxes of "keepsakes" - birthday cards and pictures mixed in with random school papers that "eventually" (yeah, whatever!) are supposed to wind up in the kids' scrapbooks.

I have a baby book for Black Jack (21) with every milestone carefully recorded up through the age of four. Coincidentally, that's when his sister came along. The Edge (of 17) also has a baby book - with a few notes and pictures and a bunch of random stuff jammed into the pockets. I purchased a book for Halfway Between (10 & 20) - it's still wrapped in cellophane and sitting on top of the water heater in the laundry room next to the ziploc bag containing his hospital bracelet. Seventh Heaven has a shoe box. . . somewhere.

I'm not really sure what the point of saving all of it is - I imagine I'll start handing it out as they move off and establish their own households, so that it can sit in baskets in top of their closets and free up mine for all of those size sixes I'm aiming for.

The other night Black Jack and his affianced came over and I handed him the tiny bomber jacket he'd worn as a baby. He pointed out that it had his brother's name written inside with permanent marker.

"You got lucky being the first kid. . .no hand-me-downs!"

Oh, but that's all about to change. I've got baskets of stuff of his that I've saved all these years, just waiting for him to establish a life of his own for which I can jump-start his clutter collection.

Hmmmmm. . .I wonder if he can wear a lovely red formal in a size 14?? Basket cases don't fall far from the tree, you know.

Have fun!

1 comment:

  1. I'm glad I'm not alone. I really would like to have a scrapbook for the boys. Good grief, I only have hard can it be?