Today I set myself the dreaded task of going through baby clothes. "What," you may ask, "is so awful about that?" Well, to be perfectly honest, it's mostly a sucky job because I put it off for so long (I know, me...can you believe it?) I have baby girl clothes that Katie wore that I sent off, neatly packaged by age/size/season to my sister for my niece to wear. So then after Nia outgrew them, Gwenn thoughtfully sent them neatly packaged by age/size/season back to me...plus some extra that Nia had gotten from other places. Which is great, because those of you who know me best know that I'm totally cheap and love hand-me-downs 
The sucky part comes in when I realize that I have about 400 pieces of unsorted baby clothes jammed into a car-seat box in the girls' closet that, if I don't address, not only will not creep away quietly in the night, but Abbie will more than likely be naked come spring because her size 18-months clothes are getting too little. So, feeling very virtuous and housewifely, I set aside a chunk of time this morning to deal with the problem while Kate was at preschool, Abbie napping, and Micah slack-jawed in front of the television, watching "Cars" for the sixty-four-thousandth time. This week. I made it through the box and several extra bags, sorting into "24 months...to go in dresser" "2T...to put in easily-accessible boxes in closet for summer" and "3T to go in neatly packaged boxes on top of closet". I was feeling pretty good about the whole scenario, and approaching the end of my chore, when I became unhinged by the sight of a neat little bundle of clothing. It was the unbelievably small romper, jacket, hat, socks, etc., that I brought Kate home from the hospital in. How in the world does this doll-size clothing have ANYTHING to do with my tall and graceful child? I made myself put the clothes up and stop being so sentimental.
After dinner, the only thing I had left to do was to purge Abbie's dresser of the too-small stuff and organize the new sizes into her drawers. We have a friend with a little girl a few months younger than Abbie who gets all her hand-me-downs that still have life in them (after Kate, Nia, and Abbie get through with them!). Again, I had to stop what I was doing and step away for a few minutes. I wasn't ready to explain to the kids or even to Jon that I was crying because I was putting away little baby clothes for the last time. We have decided (wisely, I know) that we believe our family to be complete with our three wondrous miracles. I didn't think, even after both my sisters wound up pregnant at the same time, that I would have such a hard time coming to grips with that decision. I love my babies. I love that they're getting bigger and more independent and say funny things that crack me up every day. But my breath still catches and my throat gets tight every time I get socked in the stomach with a moment like today...putting away the baby clothes.