Gluttony

I’ve written numerous times about my slight addition to baby clothes. It’s a problem that is, for the most part, under control, but which, on occasion, becomes a raging insanity that results in boxes full of unworn clothes and barely treaded shoes that are too small for a Bean.

Last week, I went through my their clothes to see what needed to be kept, what needed to be returned, what could be saved (for future Beans?), donated and/or sold. By Wednesday evening, my basement was unrecognizable. When Daddy Bean came home from softball Thursday night, I warned him not to find me in the basement (not that he could even see me, as I was up to here in Carter’s), for fear that he would finally see the scope of my addiction.

It was like every episode that I’ve seen of Intervention. Or like Cops, when the suspect swears there are no drugs in the car, but I and the officer know that there is a pipe stashed in between the seats and a baggie in the glove compartment. The suspect always looks shocked when the loot is discovered. That’s how I felt when I looked at all of the clothes. Plastic tubs were spewing pink and purple everywhere. I was tripping over sleepers and onsies. It was a mess. I knew I had to do something about it.

I sorted through what I had, setting aside some of those that had a bit of sentimental value (and a kick-ass pair of Baby GAP jeans), tossing some of the stained and saving some of the cuter things that I wanted to keep for sisters, friends, neighbors. The rest were bagged for donation or photographed, tagged, and put out for a woman who was due around the time the girls were. When she stopped by, she was amazed by my selection and commented on how beautiful the clothes were. I agreed (almost) smugly, as I stood there in years old jeans that were too big for me and a $7 tank top. Yes, as with most moms, my wardrobe has suffered as a result of the birth of the Beans.

Last night, when I went upstairs to grab pajamas for the Beans, I had to do a double-take at their closet. There are two rows of clothes and for the first time since they were born, it isn’t brimming past full capacity. In fact, the bottom row is only half full, after I removed all of their blanket sleepers. I hate to admit that I got a bit of the jitters. I felt like a junkie missing his next fix, constantly thinking back to that empty space in their closet and how it just doesn’t seem right. This morning, I shoved aside my projects to peek at Gymboree, GAP, Janie and Jack and Old Navy to see if any fall clothing had starting coming out. To my chagrin, I could only find a couple of cardigans and jackets at GAP, just enough to make me want to take a detour on my way home but not enough to fully satisfy me.

What is wrong with me?!? Just last week, I chastised myself for such gluttony! I think about the money I could have put toward the Beans’ Michigan State fund and I cringe.

DaDa just asked me what I would have done if I had been blessed with boys instead of girls. I thought, certainly I could be more reasonable. There are never any clothes in the boys’ section, I remember when I was shopping for my nephew. She may be right and maybe I’ll find out some day. Until then, I think I need a bigger basement.