Garage Sale

My kids are pack rats. Ridiculous pack rats. They hate to get rid of anything. It can be 12 sizes too small. It can be torn to bits. It can be missing essential pieces. It can be something they haven't played with in years, and they do not want to get rid of it. O especially. She is terrible. I find what I would describe as bits of paper stuffed into the crannies of her room. She considers them treasures. It's hell on earth for a clean freak like myself, a person who regularly needs, needs, to purge.


I'm telling you. This is the longest we've ever lived in one place---2 years. Having moved every one to two years since I was 18 and am now 40, I am accustomed to cleaning out the closets very regularly. There's nary a dust bunny in hiding around here. I gave him away to Goodwill before he was even born.


So one day we decide, against my better judgement, to hold a garage sale. Stuff is piling up in the garage and instead of donating it all to Goodwill, my normal approach, we figure we'll try to get a little extra cash for it all because there's some good stuff in there---a baby jogger, baby backpack carriers, stuff like that, expensive stuff.


We decide to hold this garage sale early--very early in the morning before the kids wake up. We are blessed with children who sleep in when allowed to do so. We open up shop at 6:00am. We sell a host of stuff. The wooden highchair goes. Both baby backpack carriers go. The double jog stroller goes. Tons of baby clothes, cloth diapers, toys, it all goes. Some of the household crap goes too.


Then, around 8:00 am, the kids wake up. They charge outside and see what we're up to. Fortunately, most of the stuff has already gone. Unfortunately, only the crappy stuff remains--the stuffed animals, the Happy Meal toys, the stuff we really wanted to get rid of.


The girls freak. Literally freak out. They both start crying hysterically and grabbing their possessions and hauling it all back into the house. We mostly let them since we're still dealing with potential customers. But they are very upset. Very.


I pause for a moment to ponder what it must feel like to wake up and realize that someone is selling a bunch of your stuff without you knowing about it. Hmm. Probably wouldn't feel too nice.


The next day I realize the girls are playing a little too quietly and go to check on them. On their train table they have set out a bunch of stuff they hauled out of MY closet. My stuff. Out of my closet. My closet is off-limits without permission and they know it.


Me: "Girls! What are you doing?!"


Girls: "We're having a garage sale."


They're selling off my stuff.


I can't help but laugh.


Way to get back at mom!