It isn't because the high yesterday was 75*, or because the predicted high of today is only 70*--though these predictions were a factor. It isn't because I'm bored with summer clothes, or because Jackson has outgrown every 3-6 month article of clothing, including the beloved whale pants--though that did play a part. It isn't even because I'm overly eager in my good-byes to endless of weeks of 85* humid days, which I've never pretended to be fond of--though I can't say I'm being patient in bidding summer adieu, either.

Yesterday found me up to my elbows in children's clothing. The large bedroom belonging to my children was lost beneath a sea of cardboard boxes (you know the ones: the kind your mom used and, incidentally, the kind that's mold-proof), and I could scarcely be found behind the mountain of bags I was sorting through. Several lid-busting, side-bursting situations have now been
remedied, thankfully, and I finally have boxes for girl stuff besides the 3 that had only stored up to 18 month clothing, which means homes for all the 24 month and 2T clothing (and
corresponding shoes) that had been stuffed into garbage bags and shoved in
crooks and crannies of the closet up until now.

I had my pen and paper in hand, "just in case." I didn't really think I'd end up discovering an oversight in my clothing planning for the kids this fall and winter after receiving a sizeable amount of hand-me-downs and my shopping at Long Island outlets of late.

I was wrong.

Oh yeah… Snowsuits. Boots. Hats. Mittens… Oh. Yeah. I’m forever forgetting that stuff.

Why, you ask? Well, that’s simple: it's because I never liked playing outside. If as a
10-year-old girl I much preferred curling up with a book, can you really
picture me wanting to build a snowman as an almost-24-year-old mom? Uh… Nope! So it’s just not the first thing to cross my mind when thinking through clothing for
the kids.

Oh. And what about the underwear situation? Gabriel's been existing on 6 thin, albeit somewhat cute, pairs. Even if I can count the number of accidents he's had in his lifetime, they've still been washed to death just because there are 365 days in a year and he's been potty-trained for more than that length of time. The reason for not previously correcting this situation is somewhat humorous and extremely impractical: I'm an underwear snob. I’m not even picky about my own, but I don’t like buying
cheap underwear for my family. To this day, I’ve no idea where this quirk came
from. All I know is that it’s there. Unfortunately for me, I don’t live close enough to a Gap Kids or Gymboree to get the
nice stuff on sale; and since it would kill me to even consider buying the SpongeBob or Scooby-Doo briefs one finds at Wal-Mart, I just don't buy any at all.

(If you're wondering what to get the kids for Christmas, get
them some nice underwear. I’ll be thrilled and they’re too young to be
embarrassed.)

The other thing I always forget is sneakers. How could it have slipped my notice that Gabriel's big toe is almost poking a hole through his navy high-tops, let alone that I would have to do something to remedy this situation? He's got the ever-reliable ankle boots from Richard that work for church and all events decent. But playtime, once again, has been overlooked.

Jackson has enough pajamas for each day of the week (which actually might be good, at the rate he spits up all over himself), but he can't boast nearly as many socks. The hand-me-down coat will do the trick, as will the snowsuit (one down!), but what about a plain old pair of khakis? Cargo, chino--whatever! Just something that will match every shirt and sweater in his drawer and look decent for church, too. Sometimes I simply forget the basics.

Still, my afternoon of wading in clothes proved profitable. I'm not quite ready for fall, but then, we still have a solid month of summer left. And besides, that closet was a nightmare before, and now it's 4 stacks of clearly-marked boxes.

*sigh*