I know my boys are growing. I spend alot of time bemoaning their growth at each milestone, shocked that they have evolved from babies into boys. But one of the hardest testaments of their growth for me to accept is the clothes seasonal changeover.
Yes, I am talking about cleaning out their closets. And yes, cleaning out their closets does make me cry. Every. Single Time. Every. Single. Season. It's a shocker, I know.
It never gets easier to accept.
I packed up Griffin's summer clothes today and waded through piles of fall hand me downs to stock his dresser drawers. I was hesitant to put many a shirt or pants in the give away pile because I didn't want to believe that my baby couldn't manage to fit into that darling little 3T outfit. But, he can't. He won't fit. And I have to give it away, because my baby is wearing size 4 clothes. He isn't a baby anymore.
It shouldn't come as a shock to me. I know this child. I see him grow. But it's the smallest, most concrete evidence of his milestones that make it the most difficult for me. It is such a push pull, this game of parenthood. I enjoy each new step for my children. I like the ease gained at their growth and independence, but also feel melancholy too.
It is impossible to express how a part of me can enjoy their growing up and the other part of me wants to cry at any sign of it.
This is how I came to be crying this morning while sitting on the floor of Griffin's bedroom amidst many a stack of toppling over clothes.
I still have two more boys' closets to go. Let's hope I handle them better.
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