Why I Love Those Ratty Hand-Me-Downs

Chip walked past me this weekend wearing a pair of pajama bottoms that once belonged to his older brother. I actually did a double take to look at who was wearing them. It seemed to me that just yesterday, Reese was seen romping around the house in those black and brown plaid flannel pants. Is it really possible that it has been already been four years since they belonged to him?

That does not seem right. I remember those things being wrapped around Reese's legs and rear just last winter. Only it wasn't last winter, or even the winter before. It was many, many years ago.

It has been many years since I had seen Reese and Mark laying around on Saturdays, cracking up at SpongeBob and Patrick, wearing those pants.

Many years since I'd find Reese sitting at our breakfast table, chomping on multi-grain cheerios with bananas, wearing those cozy bottoms.

Many years since he would run through our house, trying to slide down the hall in his socks, wearing those black and brown pajamas.

Now, Reese needs to wear men's pajama bottoms! No more shopping in the kids' department for him, and long gone are the days of character jammies. One more year, and I'll be confusing his pants with Mark's.

Many moms with a lot of kids grow tired of looking at the same old clothes year after year...after year. You would think that because I have three boys, I would, too.

Obviously, I don't love everything that is involved in handing clothes down from one brother to the next. I'm not immune to the annoyances involved in digging through closets and drawers and bins. Once in a while, something goes straight to the donate pile before I can force my last kid to wear it. I have just found that while I'm going about this necessary chore, I blast my Jimmy Buffett music and find some happy moments.

I love reminiscing about the times my growing boys were younger. I love remembering when they were smaller, still fitting into those cute little sizes. Even though their once-favorite characters lose popularity, (what do you mean the Wiggles retired?) and styles change, when I pull out something I haven't seen for a while, I smile.

I smile when I remember that when Chip was three, he wore a striped shirt every single day for a year.

I smile when I find the bright red shirt with two eyes and a nose that Reese wore during his Elmo-themed birthday party.

I smile when I come across the old favorites that have become soft and comfortable, the "nice" clothes that were hardly ever worn, and their annual 4th of July shirts.

I love all of it.

This year, Marshall, who's way over four, has been wearing a bright yellow hoodie that Reese received as a gift when he was about two.  (The size difference in all three boys is a whole different story). When I see Marshall running around outside, I remember all of the adventures our boys have had while wearing that sweatshirt. There are stains on the sleeves that will never come out, but, really, I just don't care.

 

 

They have always been on the move, having a blast, and easy to spot at a moment's notice in that sweatshirt. Now, my older boys want black and grey jackets because they don't want to stand out anymore. I'm fine with that, because I know they're growing up. I still love to remember the days when they were tiny and carefree and weren't worried that they looked like a banana from the waist up. I'm also thankful that I have one more year when my youngest son will still fit in that really awesome yellow sweatshirt. He'll be wanting to wear neutrals soon enough, I'm sure of it.

As another season draws to a close, I'll begin to prepare bags of clothes to pass on to my little niece and nephew. I'm happy to pass on our clothes so other children can breathe life into the pieces of fabric that clothed our kids through life's moments: through first days of school and missing teeth and riding bikes and just being kids.

Sometimes when I unload the blessings our family has of this warm, clean clothing, I hold on to just a few pieces that are especially sentimental to me.

Mark thinks I'm a hoarder.

I think I'm just a mom.





 

Many years ago, a friend of mine told me that having your kids wear bright clothes at busy places will make it easy for you to find them. It's one of the best pieces of parenting advice I've ever heard. 


How do you feel about hand-me-downs? Do your kids' clothes have any special memories for you, or are you just ready to be rid of them by the time the kids are done with them?

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