Okay, that's a bit melodramatic. Really.
But, Dude! Seriously!
*sigh* Here's the deal. Fynn's five and a half weeks old. She's been out of newborn clothes for about four weeks. Last night it became apparent that she is also out of at least one brand of size 0-3 month jammies.
This kind of makes me sad.
She's my last baby, and she's growing so freaking fast! Thinking about the future makes my head spin. Mad has almost always been one to whip through the sizes. When she was 8 months old, she was wearing 18-24 month clothes. She's not quite two and a half, but wears size 5. Corey's age always matched up with the sizes. At 18 months, he was finally ready for size 18 month clothes... but just barely. I figured that was pretty standard, and must have been how "they" came up with the sizing standards For now at least, Fynn is growing faster than Mad did!
The growing is exciting. Thinking about how well she's doing with mama's milk makes me happy and fills me with peace and a sense of being needed.
But the clothes. I can tell you stories about Mad in most of the clothes. Yesterday I came across another box of baby clothes. As soon as I opened them, I knew when Mad wore them. The little striped outfit she wore the first time she rode in her big girl car seat (at just under five months old). It happened to be the day I went back to work, so yeah, I could tell you the date. (Yikes, I just realized I could break it down in terms of how many years and days. Okay, I can see it's beginning to look less like sentimentality and more like a sickness, haha.)
The jammies Fynn was wearing last night (because yes, I did cram her into them)... the first time she wore them her diaper exploded just as it did when Mad wore them. And I know who gave us almost everything.
And she's outgrowing them. Already.
And we're not having any more babies.
And I will be giving them away (most of them... we save one thing from each grandparent and one from us).
But I want to hold onto them and keep those memories right there.