It’s not how it sounds. I’m not holding a small army of babies hostage in the basement (yet), but I am currently going through the first “I can’t possibly get rid of this” spell of my stint as a mother.
It all started when my sweet boy outgrew his newborn diapers and my husband dove into the diaper cake for the first slice of size one diapering fun.
“What are you doing???” My ears are still ringing from the high notes I hit while screeching this from across the nursery.
“Umm… changing D’s diaper,” my husband said, removing the rubber band from the rolled up diaper.
I explained to him in my most non-neurotic tone that the diaper cake was a decoration, a piece of the nursery, and was never intended to be functional. He said that it took took up half of his dresser and was at least a week’s supply worth of diapers. We would be wasting money-and valuable real estate- by letting it be.
To this day, he still thinks I am crazy and mentions this instance to me each time we encounter the poor cake… which is down to its last layer.

Then came a few days after the cake-astrophe when I was sorting his onesies by size and sleeve length. I encountered two sleepers which were never graced by D’s presence. They were the newborn size, so their ship has sailed. Fortunately, we plan to have more kiddos, so our next one can get some use out of them. Needless to say, this upset me greatly.

Our last trip to Babies R Us was very exciting for me – I was on a mission to buy the wee lad a set of stage two nipples for his bottles. This came after a middle of the night feeding that took nearly an hour (he’s a lazy sucker- he didn’t want to wake up enough to effectively eat). When I was scouring the aisles looking for more baby stuff to buy (which is totally necessary, right?) I came across the 3-6 month pacifiers. Oh. Emm. Gee. I did not realize there were pacifiers for different ages, although it makes a ridiculous amount of sense to me now.

I picked up a two-pack of the new suckies- one, dressed up like a baseball, the other like a football. I brought them home and sterilized them for the D-man, and no sooner than I was ready to place one in his oh-so-sweet mouth, I saw his newborn paci sitting next to him.

My heart sank. I have to put this away. Now.

I had to sit down and compose myself. Why was I getting all bajiggity over a pacifier? Because I realized that I would not give D’s old pacifier to a future child, so its purpose in the world had been served.

And I was sad. Where did his first three months go?