Not everything is for sale
Last week, we participated in the big yard sale at East Franklin.
While our yard sale was not located on County Road 93, we had a good turn out, and were able make a few dollars in the end.
While we all love to make a little dough, I felt as we were selling our memories of our babies because we decided to sell our baby clothes.
During the yard sale, I walked over to the pile of baby clothes and started going through them. I immediately began to feel my heart break. I know it's silly to hang on to things your children have outgrown, but somehow selling them didn't seem right either.
As I went through the clothing, memories flooded back of the time when my boys were babies. One particular onesie made me almost break down in tears.
It was a yellow onesie that both my boys wore when they were newborns. There is one particular memory about this onesie I wanted to share with you.
It was when Jordan, now eight, was about six weeks old. Jimmy was working all the time, and I was a stay-at-home mom. On this particular night, I remember giving Jordan a bath in his baby bathtub, drying him off, putting all the lotions on him, putting the onesie on him, and sitting down to feed him his supper before bedtime.
I remember sitting there and watching him drink his formula. I remember it being quiet in the house. We were alone.
I remember putting him on my shoulder to burp him and smelling the wondrous smell of baby lotion, and then it hit me. This was a moment I would remember for the rest of my life.
A moment when I could look at Jordan's childhood and cherish. One that would always be with me.
At that moment, I realized that my child would not always be a baby, and that the tender moments will become scarce as the years pass by.
In that moment, I was not just happy but elated to know that I had a child whom I would always love and protect.
Looking back at that moment now brings tears to my eyes because I know that my feelings on that day were right. Over the years, I have made a number of memories with my boys, but that one was the first real-life memory of motherhood.
It was the first time there were no cameras around, and no audience as there had been when he was born and we brought him home from the hospital.
I guess it's needless to say that the onesie was not sold and made its way back to my house.
Now I find it so amazing that something so small can transport you back in time-at least in our minds.