Step away from Chris. You know Chris, from Big Yellow House errr Notes from the Trenches errr In the Trenches of Motherhood. It’s ok, step away from the crazy woman. I know you love her. I know you would happily follow her around her house, watching her every move, learning from her every thought. I know you would gladly paint her house yellow just so she could be the Big Yellow House woman again. I know how you feel. I feel that way too. I also know that she scared you today. She scared you and you wanted to run and hide in a closet. But insanity is fascinating and it’s alluring and dangerous. Just step away. Come sit by me where it is safe.
It is safe here. You and I, we understand each other. That whole spreadsheet, rubbermaid bin thing Chris is talking about, that’s just nuts. We know this. You and I, we’re normal. We just toss all of the kids’ clothes into a trash bag and throw it in a closet or the garage or the basement or the attic. We intend to do something with it. Something that doesn’t include spreadsheets.
When the seasons change, we have no rubbermaid bins. We make kids try on clothes in their drawer, clothes from a plastic garbage bag and we take their word for it when they bring us clothes that don’t fit.
We wake one morning to find the boy no longer has 12 pairs of kakhi pants because he’s grown an inch or he’s popped the buttons. We wake that same morning to find the wee one’s skorts and skirts are an inch too short. We wake one morning to find the 10 year old showing more cleavage than the 23 year old on date night at the Windjammer and her midriff is bared too. We don’t understand how this could have happened when just last week they tried on all of their clothes and only appeared with a few things that didn’t fit. We don’t understand how this could have happened when last week there were no bare midriffs, no ankles showing, no tummies or cleavage being exposed.
We don’t have a spreadsheet so when we run to the store to quickly purchase new items of clothing we’ve forgotten who it is that is exposing the tummy, whose pants are too short, whose skirts too short. We give up and come home with one of everything and hope for the best.
We are normal. Chris. Well. She is fascinating. And insane. And frightening. But it’s ok, come sit by me where it is safe. This pile of old clothes in garbage bags is soft and comfy. Tomorrow Chris will post something just as fascinating but a little less frightening. We’ll be ok until then.
Wait, we do have the hope chest.
Not sure I understand, but… I understand?
You don’t understand, for probably three reasons. Did you actually read Chris’s post?
spreadsheets, wow talk about organized. I’ll stick with you over on the comfy garbage bags thank you very much. scary lady, very scary organized lady with the spreadsheets make her stop!