I have no idea if I will procreate again or not.
It seems that so many people have such a strong opinion of whether they would procreate again or not. They know what size family would make them happiest.
Well, congratulations to you if you know. Cause I’m two babes deep and I couldn’t be more indecisive. I don’t need to have any more children. But I also can’t swear that I will never procreate again.
The jury is still out.
So what to do with all their crap?
SO MUCH BABY CRAP.
People are so generous when you have a baby. It is amazing.
But then you end up with a baby fitness center in your living room. Outfits that still have the tags on them because you somehow missed ever putting it on your child. They grow so much in the first two years. Every companies sizes are a little different. You go to throw some 2T jeans on your 1 year old and they are high waters. Ridiculousness. First world problems.
Finally, I’ve had enough. Purge time. De-clutter your life and you will DE CLUTTER your life.
Alright let’s do this…..
Giant consignment weekend long sale on Cape Cod.
Day #1 ALL SIGNED UP. Pumped. Gonna sell my stuff! Thinking about buying a plane ticket to Cali to visit hermana with the money. Possible yoga retreat in January. Positive attitude for sure.
Day #2 Productive train still in motion. You sort through boxes in the storage room while the boys nap.
Step #1 Sort clothes & baby nonsense into piles:
-Stuff to give to friends that had babies
– Throw away.. because your baby had reflux and nobody needs that onesie.
-Also, pull aside all funny onesies you had the boys wear. Add “recruit Cassie’s Mom to sew a t-shirt blanket for each of the boys with these.” to your to-do list. She is a sewing magician. This will fulfill your memories portion of letting go of the baby stuff.
You are still very pleased with yourself. You give yourself a pep talk about how this is a good idea. Are we going to have another baby? Why would I ever want to buy all this crap again? But what if I save it and we are done having kids? Or we do have another baby and open up the pack n play just to realize that a couple of mice had used it as their winter heartbreak hotel? Then you have to buy new stuff anyways. Alright, hoarders pep talk complete. No need to think about family planning right now. Leave that up to Future Brittany. That girl will know what to do.
You have fallen off the great idea wagon. Your task of keeping 3 humans beings alive and one filthy dog has led you astray. You know have one week to do this. Every one is sick? Perfect.
3 DAYS left. You get out of work at 10 pm. You stay up until 1:30 AM. Inputting your crap into their system so you can print tags.
2 DAYS left.
You wash everything. Print tags of everything. Curse everything.
2 DAYS left after work.
You realize you have agitated your sciatic nerve. You have shooting pains from your lower back down your leg. You call the chiropractor and silently curse her name for not caring about your issues immediately. “Maybe I can fit you in next week??” Until then JUST Ice/heat/stretching/hot bath/ib profuen” is your advice then?
Thanks for nothing lady. I have an on call California nurse who could have told me that.
Husband laughs at you. Says, “You are murphy’s law.”
Tell me something I don’t know honey.
You pin 225 safety pins and tags onto baby clothes while sitting on a heating pad.
1 DAY left.
You recruit husband to help. You spend a decent amount of time wondering why you aren’t the type of woman who likes to do shit like this.
You shout to your husband, “You know we should get a wife. Someone who wants to clean our house.”
He says, “You know I’m going to trade you in when you turn 30 in April for a newer model.”
You reply with the same response you always do, “Sounds good. For my birthday present I want to watch you hit on 24 year old girls (age I was when we started dating) , drink wine with my friends, and heckle you from the peanut gallery.
Also, I like to add, “Fine, get a new wife. Just know that i’m not moving out and I hope cleaning is her “stress relief.”
Then we laugh.
ZERO DAYS LEFT:
Your Jeep is stuffed to the brim.
Somehow a horse has joined you.
You thank your lucky stars that you have such nice friends. Who come over and watch your kids when you need them. Your family doesn’t live anywhere geographically close to you, yet you have these people you can depend on like sisters. I definitely didn’t go out into the world looking for more sisters. I have two. They are the best. I had my sister quota filled. Yet, what a good thought to think that you can never have too many sisters.
Finally, you get to take a ride alone and dump off all your consignment load. Obviously you are getting down to gangsta rap like any normal Mom does when she’s alone. I mean if Pac needs to hit ’em with a little ghetto gospel, you obviously know what to do. Put your hands in the air if you’re a true playa. You can even blast you own old school theme song. You know what I’m talking about. Biggie Smalls singing, “I LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME BRITT PROC-TA.” (My self proclaimed anthem from 2005-2009.) Hmm.. gosh I was an annoying 19 year old woman. But oh well! Still fun!
That reminds me of something awesome. Eventually when my younger brother and sister got older and we all became adults, we just all became friends. Their friends, my friends. Who ever was around would partake in the sharpening of social skills. Anyways, we were out at night for shenanigans and my brother’s tiny small cat friend says to me, “Oh you hear this song. Your brother sings the funniest song about himself to this song… I love it when you call me Mark Proc-ta..”
Now I maybe be three sheets to the wind, but I realize that this little brother shark has been stealing my material and impressing young babes with this.
So I laugh and loudly say, “O-M-G!! Mark YOU ARE Sooooooo HILARIOUSSSSSSSS!”
He looks at me. We laugh.
Little brothers are great.
I highly suggest you get one.
Uh oh. Do you see now? Do you see how I could get derailed from a project? We are suppose to be talking about consigning clothes and I’m off telling stories about my brother. Who by the way, one day will be a kickass Dad.
But for now he’s just the Funcle (Fun-Uncle) who I left my baby with for 3 hours and got 5 phone calls. All of which, I could not pick up because I was at work. The messages would say something along the lines of.. “Hey Brit. Uh ya… so I put him in his crib for a nap like you said, but he’s yelling and I think he knows I’m out here.”
You say, “Listen dude. Yes, society gave you a disservice by not encouraging you to baby sit younger children just because you were male. But I’ll give you the abridged version: Babies smell weakness.”
You arrive at the mega super baby sale weekend fortress. It’s at 770 Main St. in Osterville, MA this weekend (10/17) for any of you local cape cod Mommas. Cape Kids Treasures is the name of it. It’s basically a giant weekend long sale of stuff that Mom’s were like, “Shit I never even took off the tags.”
I back the Jeep up to what looks like the loading dock. I take a minute to look at the display of OCD/ organization specialists who stand in front of me. Mom’s with crazy color coded labeled perfectly folded insanity. You smile knowingly at other Mom’s as they drag their assortment of Thomas the train memorabilia into the loading dock.
Now you just have to see what happens. Any money you make will be mailed this week. Anything that doesn’t sell, I clicked “DONATE ALL.” No I do not want to pick up any baby clothes from you. The clutter must go. It definitely can’t come back.
Will I be able to buy that plane ticket to California? To hang out with my oldest friend and put my feet in the Pacific.
I wear your granddad’s clothes…
I look incredible..