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    How much for those memories?

    There’s a big consignment sale happening this week-end. This was an exciting prospect for me as S2 has outgrown the NB, the 0-3 and the 3-6 clothes in his closet (which is a good thing given he’s 6m old).

    Being the rational purger that I am, I’ve been trying to unload unused items on a pretty regular basis. I figured this sale can be a good way for me to clean out s2’s closet, while looking for 3T sized items.

    As a general note, I have to say that prepping items for the sale was a major pain in my rear. You have to tag EVERYTHING, meaning that I spent 3 hours going over each item amongst the 3 bins of outgrown clothes and then enter each into the sale’s tagging system. THEN I spent another 3 hours attaching said tags on my items and then hanging everything.

    I did mention pain in rear, right?

    I labored over deciding how much each item would be worth: what is it worth to me, vs. what is it worth to someone else. My mental price tag included the memories of my sons wearing those clothes: what milestones they met in those items… what monotonous activities they did in those items. Even never-worn items with tags still on had an emotional hold on me. But buyers wouldn’t see that. So all of a sudden the outfit S2 wore for his 3m photos was sporting a $2 tag around it.

    Of course, I pulled out the clothes I couldn’t part with. I “tried” to limit myself to 5 items in each age group and put them in a plastic bin. Yes, I’ll likely never open said plastic bin again, but those few outfits will stay with me. FOR-EVER.

    The whole preparation process was emotional. Dropping off was emotional, but I didn’t realize how much more difficult it would be to be IN the store watching people look over the boys’ clothes and choose them. Yes, this was the intent all along, but watching an older lady pick-out the gray sweat GAPĀ  outfit (that had NEVER been worn, btw) made me want to walk over and rip the hanger from her hands. Of course I didn’t, but a part of me wanted to.

    Ugh. This growing up thing is not cool.

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