Jealous of the Man With the Bibs

I was doing laundry at 10:3opm--thankfully, not the full family's weekly load (translation: 6 loads)--just the whites that turned pink a few weeks ago (bleach didn't magically fix the problem) and the dress that my daughter needs for her school play costume for tomorrow's dress rehearsal.  So, as I waited for the dryer to finish, thinking how crazy it was that I was standing there at 10:30pm, my blog unwritten, I looked at the man next to me, who was folding tiny pink items, including bibs saying things like "don't forget the cupcakes."

Now, I fully acknowledge that he, too, was doing laundry at 10:30pm, and by the looks of the shirts he was hanging, this was probably the end of a long day for him too.  I resisted the urge to tell him to enjoy the little teeny clothing age, but I found myself thinking how simple things were then, when I chose what the kids wore and the toys they were begging for (actually at that age, they were too young even to be begging) were smaller and cheaper and simpler to say yes or no to.

If, of course, I really think about that age, in my household, it was an age that I saw only part of--I was working many hours, with a full-time nanny who was with my small people for 10 hours a day, five days a week.  Oh, and did I mention, she was the one generally doing the tiny laundry, even when it was poopy?

It's not that I don't like my children--I definitely do--just in that moment, the simplicity of bibs and onesies and baby smell, and children who are not wide awake when I'm doing the 10:30pm laundry seemed so appealing.  But we can't go back in time--gosh, if we could, so many things might be different.

The other day, I had a phone conversation with a person who is researching One Life to Live's history, and it was fascinating how, as I talked to him, I could actually feel that every part of my time there had its advantages.  I guess kids are like that too.  Every age has its own strong points.  My kids can now help with chores and have interesting conversations, and not be dangers to themselves every minute of the day.  They just don't wear onesies and smell like babies (which probably keeps them a whole lot better adjusted at school!)  So these days, I will have to settle for enjoying tiny clothes vicariously, with the help of people like the man with the bibs.