We are having a garage sale tomorrow and Saturday. I think this will be our third in sixteen years. Every time I have one, I remind myself of why I don't want to have one. All depends on what you make. Last time, we made $25. That was after all the hooplah you make to get people there. I suppose it was $25 I didn't have before.
This one is particularly difficult, as I am selling a lot of baby stuff. The strollers, the infant carseat, the playpen, the crib... all up for grabs. With all of our renovating in the basement, our storage space is at a premium there. Plus, surely someone else can use what we are storing in the basement.
However, the finality of that is... it's really the end of the baby road (unless God has a strange sense of humor). I "got" that intellectually, but moving the "stuff" of infancy hammered it home.
Don't get me wrong. The thought of being preggers again sends chills up my spine. I was not a happy pregnant woman. I have never been good with nausea, and having a period of my life when a doctor says, "You need to sit and prop your feet at work," was laughable. But I think there's some trigger in a lot of moms I know that makes the realization that you are done with that part of your life a little bittersweet.
So, here marks the day that JoLynn said, "It is finished." Hmmm.
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