It's the End of an Era

Pearl is the last baby. So, as she gets older, I have been shuffling off baby clothes here, there, and everywhere. We have gotten rid of our baby carseat, and lots of toys. The bouncer is gone, along with the bumbo. And yes, if we end up with a 'bonus' child, I will laugh right along with you as I buy or borrow all these things again. But, since we are not planning on more, I thought it was time to free up some space.

Most stuff I am happy to get rid of, some stuff is more sentimental and harder to part with, and then there are the things that I don't think anyone would want, and yet they were invaluable at the time. Like my collection of burb cloths.

I say collection, because we have enough that people might think we attempted cloth diapering at one point. As if. I hate laundry enough without loads of...well, you know. I am pretty sure that up in heaven I said, "Oh, you can send me down whenever, as long as they have disposable diapers." Okay, maybe that is a little far-fetched. I'm sure I would have survived in the dark ages before washing machines, but trust me, I am not above enjoying my technological advances now.

When I was pregnant with June, I got some of those cute, fancy, burb cloths. And for those of you who crochet around the edges, I still think they are adorable, but that kind of fabric was not made to soak up the loads of liquid that can come forth from a small body. June broke us in the hard way. Sometimes I wondered if she was gaining any weight, since she seemed to spit EVERYTHING up. Grandma mentioned that she changed her shirt every time she held June. That is just the way June came. And so I stocked up on burb cloths. They were the friend you took everywhere. We put several in the baby bag and cursed ourselves when we forgot them.

So we ordered a different model the second time around. Robyn was not a spitter...Hallelujah. But for some reason she had trouble figuring out the whole nursing thing. She drooled, to put it mildly. So, the burb cloths saw plenty of action, since I always had a few tucked underneath me while I fed her.

Ivory was probably the only one who didn't need the armada of burb cloths, but it was short lived since both Pearl and Daisy were terrible spitters. (Three out of five kids—not the best odds.) There were times that I would look around for a burb cloth and they were all in the wash. That tells you how many we went through, almost daily. I would often do a load of only burb cloths so I could catch up and stem the tide of spit up.

And lucky us, Pearl lasted the longest, well past a year, spitting up. But recently, I found that I don't use the burb cloths anymore. I am not constantly scrubbing the carpet, or changing outifts. So, I guess it is time for them to go. But oddly, it is very hard to part with them. They have been my close companions these eight years. How do I tell them thank you? And will the next person to see them realize their value or just see a bunch of useless white rags. I know, it is strange thing to get emotional about, but I think I will miss all my burb cloths.

p.s. This is my 800th post. Just thought you'd want to know.