Talking About Tiny Babies. Read At Your Own Risk

As the countdown for the little one grows smaller and smaller I've been slowly chipping away at my lengthy to-do list.  Today's torture included washing all the new baby's clothing and putting it away in the dresser.

Torture????  Yes, you read that previous paragraph correctly.  Torture.

I remember washing and organizing these clothes the first time.  I was full of anticipation, excitement, wonder... all those emotions that are great when you are imagining.  This time around, there is no imagining as I can't help but think of so many memories with little baby Kenyon.

I hold up a little onsie with footballs on it and I remember how proud Wes was when he introduced his son to his high school football coach.

I find a stack of burp rags and remember exactly which ones were my favorite to use and always packed in our diaper bag.

I find little socks that have rattles in them and remember laying Kenyon on our bed and helping him kick his legs.  He would shriek with laughter until he was absolutely exhausted.

I find a onsie that has our brand on the butt and how proud Wes was to carry around Kenyon and prop him up on his shoulder where everyone could see the brand.

Sigh....  I have been crying so hard this afternoon I now have a splitting headache from an overload of happy memories.  My face is red and blotchy and I have a pile of used tissues by my side.  Wes walked in the house moments ago for a drink of water, saw the state of his wife and promptly exited without getting a drink.  (Although after seeing his hormonal wife in that state, I think he was ready for a drink.)