Today was our neighborhood’s annual garage sale. With great anticipation, I emptied my “Mommy Closet” of tubs of baby clothes, swings, bouncy seats, snuglis, and onesies. There wasn’t enough garage for my sale, let me tell you now. Like all good Midwestern garage sales, by 10 am, the swarms of economically-smart Mommies had gone through my piles of “stuff”, and walked away with most of it in Wal-mart bags.

You’d think I’d be thrilled. Maybe overjoyed to have a few extra bucks in my pocket, warm with compliments at the adorability of my girls’ clothes. But I am not feeling anything other than a bit empty. I picked up one of the last remaining sleepers and pressed it to my nose. The Dreft still present in a way only Dreft can be. Hey, where did those tears come from?

I’ll be honest: I’m not what you’d call a “baby” person. When Sara put her binoculars to her eyes, grabbed a Cheeto and started wiggling her entire body at the LIVE! Elmo Sesame Street show, I actually cried tears of both laughter and joy. Yesterday when she clapped and waved at dolphins, my soul started singing.  Parenthood as I THOUGHT it would be had arrived. Bedtimes and books, trips to the zoos, discussions about birthday parties, and on and on. Every day is a cornucopia of The Silly and The Fantastic.

But still…there is a melancholy to the “no more baby” days, yes? I squeeze Chubs (Kelly) and she looks at me with her big eyes and overloaded cheeks. Never again will I have a person who says, “baaaboodaaagaa” as I feed them. No more itsy bitsy hats and papooses. No more swaddling. No more cheery playmat and swing. Without our infant trappings, we are just as I thought we’d look. Baby dolls littered about. Play purses and hopscotch tiles. I did not envy those new Moms who wildly grabbed up my tiny things…but, maybe…I don’t know…maybe I’ll just go hug Kelly one more time….