I organized my girls’ closet yesterday and put away all their clothes that were too small.  It’s always a bitter sweet emotion for me as I fold away their clothes because I can recall a memory with every article of clothing.  Their cream ruffle dress they wore to our dear friend’s wedding where they danced all night and laughed and didn’t want to leave.  Their bright fuchsia summer dress they wore on hot Summer nights when we would sit outside on our front lawn while eating our favorite popsicle and waiting for daddy to come home from work.  Some memories are not so pleasant, like a pink leotard Adi wore to her recital on her last day of Summer dance camp and right when I was unbuckling Ana from her car seat to go inside, she vomited all over her, all over the car, and all over me so we had to go home and by the time I washed both of us up, cleaned the car and the car seat and quickly drove back to the recital, we had just missed it.  I got back in the car after picking Adi up and cried.  The funny thing is, I remember thinking being a mother is so hard and this moment sucks, but looking back, I would go back to that incident without a thought in order to be able to kiss Ana’s bald head one more time, or to hear Adi’s sweet little 2 year old voice once again.  I need to remember that whenever I am feeling burned out or overwhelmed with motherhood, in 5 years, I would go back to right now without a thought in order to be able to enjoy my 4 and 5 year old daughters once more.  And thankfully most memories associated with the clothes are pleasant and happy memories and I cry every time as I fold their clothes and put it in a bag to be put away in the basement.  “Oh how I wish I could go back to this time when they used to fit into these clothes…’

Lately the girls have been into measuring their hand against mine to see how big their hands are getting.  Or standing tall and straight next to me in the mirror and saying, “Mommy, see? I’m almost to your boobies!”  And this is just a wild guess but I think I just might shed a tear or two, or two thousand when one day they say to me, “Mommy, see?  I’m now taller than you!” It’ll probably happen when they’re 8, so I better start preparing myself now. 😉