cleaning up and clearing out

I took a deep breath, opened the big plastic crate of baby clothes and looked inside. Good stuff could be passed on, worn out and stained things put in the Vinnies bag, but the really beautiful things had to be held up to my face so I could cry into them.

We cleaned out our shed and got rid of all our baby gear. An admission, if ever there needed to be one, that our family is complete. There will be no more little Squibblog babies. A decision that I am sure is right, but which hurts anyway.

Tiny cardigans against my cheek. Hand knitted (and monogrammed!) booties lovingly made by friends, placed in a special bag because I can't bear to part with them. I can't bear to think that my babies are not babies anymore or ever again.

It wasn't just baby stuff in our shed though. It was chock-a-block with crap. Bolts and fixings for washing machines long dead, old TVs, cables that are now museum quality, cooler bags from computer vendors who all decided we needed cold bottle carrying equipment the same year. Tax documents from the nineties, record players, baby monitors. Stuff, stuff, stuff all turfed or sent to a better place.

Hopefully by the end of today I will be able to throw out the giant box filling my dining room because the kitchen sink will be installed. Benches sanded and sealed, new tap installed. Dust everywhere.

We have experienced two types of tradies getting our kitchen sink in. The handyman who cut out the hole for the sink and then sanded and sealed the benches. An elderly Cypriot gentleman who wanted to chat about home remedies and the antics of children, concerned that they not breathe in the sealant fumes (we spent yesterday playing in the garden because the house was out-of-bounds). Nothing was too much trouble for George, no precaution too time consuming.

Today we have George's friend Alfonce the plumber. He is a shake-your-head style tradie. Nothing is quite right, everything is very complicated and hard. Hardware stores rip you off, benches are too thick - difficult to drill through. Even things that obviously only take a couple of seconds have to be dissected in detail, risks explained, complications enunciated. While I sat and chatted to George about his grandchildren yesterday, today I have scuttled away to the office. 'Working'. Hiding, really.

Comments

[Megan]

I refuse to believe my babies will ever grow up.

Soft squishy pink chubby babies forever.

[helen Sharwood]

I sympathise. If you are ever looking for Soy's first booties, sailor suit, or tooth (yes, tooth), first go at name writing and lots more.....

[Nat]

If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure all plumbers major in depressive pessimism in their final year as an apprentice!! Our plumber even admits it!!

[pamela]

Kitchen sounds wonderful... shed sounds - well, empty really and the box in the dining room either made a great temporary cubby or a place to deposit tiny cardigans.

I think I need George in the future.