Hey there, cutie!
It is such a wondrous experience to watch your children grow. They start out as these tiny little beings, all warmth and drool and cuteness. They wear these tiny outfits that melt even the most callous heart. “Mommy’s little Angel” and “Daddy’s Rock Star” (you remember). They grow like tiny little weeds. One day you put your favorite onsie on them and the next it doesn’t fit at all. Or worse, you “save” a favorite outfit (save it from the icky, sticky messes that comes out of the precious souls) way too long and when the next occasion arises it is two sizes too small.
But that’s okay.
When you have a baby you pretty much stockpile every cute thing you can find until 12 months. Not to mention the haul from the baby shower. There are clothes in drawers and closets that you cannot fathom the little tiny bundle will ever fit into. You are set.
After a year they begin to slow down a bit and the clothes last a bit longer. Some you actually see more than three times. Some you become tired of even looking at. It is wonderful release from the constant shifting of the closets that you are used to. You feel justified in actually spending a little money on the clothes since they will be worn and loved more than a month or two.
I am guilty, guilty, guilty of spending too much money on my son’s gear. I love to see him looking like a tiny version of a man. Little shoes, little hats, the whole nine yards. It’s this incredibly guilty pleasure that I have. I adore to have him in the cutest items imaginable.
Well…this morning we were up bright and early for speech. I groggily grabbed the outfit I had set out the night before from the dresser (yes, I’m that mom) and tried to pull it over his head. The shirt barely came to the top of his pants. Huh? I have no idea why but my brain immediately went to “user error” and I checked the seams to make sure everything lined up properly. Yep, fine.
I may hate laundry with every fiber of my being but I am good at it. I haven’t shrunk anything college. I fastidiously check every little tag just to make sure it is all dryer friendly before I even purchase it. Ain’t nobody got time for ironing or dry cleaning toddler clothes. Still half asleep, Jp losing his patience with me taking so long to get him dressed, I moved onto the next shirt from the closet that I could lay my hands on.
Same length. Oh-freakin’ no. No, no, no, no, NO!
The kid had a growth spurt practically overnight. Great. Now all of his shirts are hilariously short (think Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm Street). The poor guy has apparently been cursed with my long torso and short legs because his pants still fit just fine. His whole closet is full of midriff baring belly shirts. He looks like baby Hulk only less green. And sweeter. 🙂
This isn’t the 80’s anymore…not a cute look.
On the way to speech in a ridiculously short T-shirt I lamented the comical nature of this tragedy as we are only a few short weeks from receiving our tax refund. Just a few measly weeks. Why, oh why, couldn’t he have waited just a few short weeks to shoot up 3 inches? I will be able to wiggle a few in the budget to get him by (hello, consignment store!) but the cost of replacing his ENTIRE closet is going to be ridiculous. Coats, sweaters, shirts, dress shirts…and before you say it, yes, I checked them all.
Why don’t I have backups, you ask? Because he has been in the same size since 18 months! I was starting to think he was going to never grow again. Wait…that should have been my clue, huh?
Oh, hindsight…why must you be 20/20?
I'm just living minute to minute, hour to hour, day to day.