I like to give other people grief about their hoarding abilities, but I'm pretty sure it's entirely my fault that all of Alexis' clothes are still in our house.
And I do mean *ALL* of her clothes ... every last thing she has ever worn in her entire life.
Before we moved to the giant house with too many bathrooms just shy of three years ago, our itty bitty townhouse posed many storage challenges. At the top of that challenge list was Alexis' closet. It was literally one foot wide. LITERALLY. As in, I went to IKEA and bought her closet and it was only one foot wide. She had four drawers and a tiny little hanging bar, which means I had storage space for exactly the clothes that fit her at the time and nothing more.
I was AMAZING at keeping her closet under control. I was also AMAZING at putting all of the clothes that she had outgrown into storage tubs and sticking them where they wouldn't be seen. And then we moved and I was AMAZING at ignoring those storage tubs ... and allowing them to multiply.
Yeah. So. I probably should have gone through it all a long time ago and sold what was worth selling, gave away what needed to be given away, and blah, blah, blah. I didn't. I just hid it out of sight.
Until this past week when I made up my mind to sort through it all and consign it at the Just Between Friends Consignment Event. And by "all" I mean I made it through about half of size 3 and size 4 stuff and then gave up. That alone put me up over 150 items and took me two full days to sort, wash, de-wrinkle, hang, and tag, so I decided that was PLENTY.
At this very moment, if you walk into our dining room, you'll feel like you walked into a really weird Gap Outlet. I, uh, apparently shop at Baby Gap a lot because there are piles and piles of Baby Gap jeans and sundresses and t-shirts. I didn't have the guts to count just how many pair of Gap jeans the kid has outgrown because I'd have to punch myself in the face when I passed ten.
I'd be punching myself a whole bunch of times.
The good news is that I only came across a few things that I had some sort of emotional attachment to. I tucked a few dresses back into storage, but was very happy to get rid of 99.9% of the clothes.
Alexis, on the other hand, WAS NOT HAPPY. She walked in on my epic purging activities and promptly started picking things up.
"I love this shirt!" she declared.
"This dress is sooo cute!" she said.
"I remember this!" she cried.
With each declaration of adoration, the kid followed up by saying, "Can I keep it, please?"
She wanted to keep all of the clothes. ALL OF THEM.
I let her try a few things on, in no small part because my favorite part of Tommy Boy is when Chris Farley dances around in the little coat. It was fun having her reenact that scene multiple times without knowing that she was doing it.
Each time she would reach the point where she would be forced to admit that the dress (it was always the dresses that she dared try on) didn't fit, she would crinkle up her face, give me a very respectable I Hate You glare, and begrudgingly place the item back in the "sell" pile. "I guess you can sell it, momma, but I get to keep the money" she would say.
You guys. YOU GUYS. The Hoarder Gene runs strong in that kid, but I think maybe I found the cure. It smells just like money!
Anybody have a hoarder they need me to cure? My rates are extremely reasonable.
