Every quarter the walls of the house seem to cave in and it means three things: pest control, general cleaning, and storage. How timely that we got a new hairy puppy in the midst of all this.
All of it happened quicker than usual and I was relieved to get to the storage part by the end of the week. I found myself on the floor of Little Libra’s room reorganizing her wardrobe. We promoted dresses to shirts, leggings to shorts and pulled out the new stuff that finally fits. Then we proceeded to demote going out clothes to play clothes and play clothes to the donation pile. The midriff t-shirts went into storage as did the diaper showing dresses and the trip causing capri pants. As for the shoes, there were too many. I wish I could add some water so they’d just grow one-inch longer.
When I labeled my last pile ‘Little Libra circa 2 years old,’ I thought about my own wardrobe and realized that I never throw anything to a donation pile but nonchalantly file them away as “the pre-baby clothes I will wear again one day.” They’re technically old clothes but would feel new since they’re associated with a thinner, care-free, and single version of myself. They would certainly feel new to the person I’ve become in the past two and a half years. If I could fit my married, mothering, worry-wart self into those clothes, maybe I’d be reminded to be that cool pre-baby person again. She was fun. I miss her.
So for date night with the hubby I put a little bit more effort. I fit into my old jeans, donned some platform heels that I have no reason to wear as a mom and topped it with a loose bohemian top that I acquired when I was “slightly preggers.” I even added some accessories from my partying days then surveyed myself in the mirror. And for the first time in a loooong time, I recognized myself. Nice to see you again. It’s been a while…
Then I realized that this pleasure didn’t stem from the satisfaction of physically fitting back into my old clothes. It came from seeing my Mom Self rock an outfit better than my Single Self. The old jeans look better with more of a hip and ass (Was that from the baby or the workout required after the baby?) The top was more filled out and more proportionate to the rest of my body. (Breastfeeding benefit for the bust challenged!) The person in these old clothes is wiser, tougher, and more seasoned. She stood a little taller too. Is it because she can systematically recycle things, maintain things, store things, fix things, make things and most importantly take care of things like a couple of humans (Hubby and Little Libra)?
All this time I thought having a baby changed me, even killed a part of me. The truth is having a baby transformed me into a better version of myself. My old jeans were meant to be Mom Jeans. Great to finally meet you.
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If you’re thinking of donating some old things to a worthy cause, check out www.virlanie.org
Blog Source: Child’s Play Manila
