A Little Story

Back in March Joel took a few days of paternity leave, some of which was spent in Brisbane. I used to be a machine when we'd arrive home after any extended time away. While Joel would unpack the car, I'd settle Leo and once he was happy I'd go about unpacking our bags, putting on a load of washing and organising dinner. Then Phoebe came along and slowly, slowly my opinions on keeping a tidy house have changed. Don't worry, I haven't let the house go. I've just finally come to terms with the fact that, for the foreseeable future, our house is always going to be in need of cleaning or tidying somewhere. With that in mind, the particular Sunday afternoon that we arrived home I decided that no, I wasn't going to rush and make a start on the loads (yes, loads) of washing that needed to be done. I was going to relax with Joel and the children and while away the afternoon. So the plastic bag full of dirty washing was left downstairs. 

You know where this is going don't you?

It wasn't until Tuesday that I finally made a start on the washing. When I was hanging the clothes up that afternoon I remember wondering where a particular dress I'd worn in Brisbane was (this blue/green one) but shrugged my shoulders and figured it must be in the coming loads. When it didn't show up in the second or third wash I tried to recall where I'd left the bag of dirty washing and what else, if anything, was missing. Some underwear, a bib, Leo's pyjama shorts (a shame but no great loss) and my dress. What I thought must have happened was that Joel or I took the rubbish out after dinner and seeing a full plastic bag downstairs thought it must be rubbish too and consequently tossed it out. The light may have remained off downstairs making this scenario even more likely.

This is what I thought next:

I should check the rubbish bin! 

Wait! The bins have already been collected!

Darn it!*

I really liked that dress. 

Oh well, it's just a dress. Don't be so materialistic, Jess!

I wonder if I should call the dump?

No, Jess. Just let it go. 

That Friday I was putting away some of Phoebe's clothes when I realised I hadn't seen her sweet floral romper.

She had worn it in Brisbane.

Darn it!* I thought.

It had been in the bag that was mistakenly thrown out.

My heart sank.

This loss was worse than my dress. Sure, it was just a piece of clothing but it was one of the (very) few items I had bought for Phoebe. I bought it shortly after finding out I was pregnant and feeling, even then, that Littlest was a girl. This tiny romper with the country flowers and little white bow on the breast held my quiet confidence that I was growing a baby girl. During my pregnancy I had imagined her wearing it, her tiny arms and legs unfurling in the days following her birth. She would live in this little outfit until it could no longer fit. It was simple and sweet, just like she would be. 

I cried. I told Joel and then I cried some more. 

Then I had an idea. 

I looked up the brand on Ebay and trawled through every single page until I found one person selling the same print but two sizes up. I settled. 00 is still going to look tiny when Phoebe's 12; not as tiny as 0000, but it would do. 

This is why I've not complained about the lingering warmer weather because guess what Phoebe has been wearing a lot lately? Admittedly she's probably got more wear out of this second romper than what she did the original so it's a happy ending despite the one detail I've thus far left out.

Our bin day is Thursday. 

*Not what I really thought. You can be creative.