None of this makes my butt look big, right?

A few of my friends and quite a number of stranger-bloggers I read post wonderful, poetic things about the moments of their lives, including the miraculousness of their children. It really never occurs to me to share those things. Truthfully, it rarely occurs to me that I'm experiencing those things. And by the time I get to the computer I'm aggravated with said miracles, so I vent instead.

I recently read a post from one Mommy blogger (I'm new to this, have no personal connections with any of these modern marvels and have read WAY too many Mommy blogs lately to credit this accurately. So, I'll paraphrase...) who wrote charmingly of her marital status hinging on the status of garage storage availability. Which comes to mind almost daily around here as M'oney has issues with our home's storage capacity/things-I-want-to-keep ratio. I've kept just about every child-related article we've acquired since the birth of M, 6 years ago. First it was stashed away for the possibility of a second child (that "better be a girl or cross-dresser from day one!"). Then, when The G came along, quite a lot of it was resurrected and, due to a considerable size and growth rate differential that somehow always comes to bear at the change of season, quite a lot was added. Now, it's all been put away for the someday child of my younger sister. Having been to the infertility clinic for the conception of both of my girls and having endured the asinine things people can and will say about your sex life, your life plans, etc...while going through the emotional - not to mention hormonal - joyride that is, I try not to question my sister too much about the plan behind timing of the conception, arrival or whatever of this someday child ("that better be a girl or a cross-dresser from day one!"). However, the 3,600 square feet plus attic & garage are not enough to contain both M'oney and the stored bounty. Sorting through it all the other day in an attempt to satisfy M'oney with yet another configuration - this time, it's a real winner that has all of the storage boxes out in the open where we have to look at them, instead of in the walk-in closet in the basement (????) - it began to dawn on me that this might be an absurdly large amount of stuff.

The rationalizations began to cascade from my subconscious. Which is when I knew for sure there was an issue. But I turn to you, kind Internets, for codependence in my hour of need!! And I know you'll help me on this. 'Cause I've been reading your blogs, too...

This isn't a problem, right?? For the first kid, this was shoes through age 3. For the second one, this collection lasted through about 18 months (family feet!). Because I know my sister is reading, I'll mention that the 3 single shoes to the bottom right have partners; they're just not in the boxes I've most recently been through. Which amounts to everything from birth to almost 2T...

While I'm feeling up to the abuse, I'd also like your commentary on this:

Speaking of my sister's someday child...M's friend Kn has a friend she refers to very often by the name of Arissa. I don't know the child. I don't even know the correct spelling. At first, I thought it was Kn's speech. Then I heard her Mom say it that same way - Arissa... All I know is that every time I heard about Arissa, I pictured a little Asian girl in ethnic dress with ponytails sticking out from the sides of her head. I know, it's bad. But no worse than the number of times I've laughed since meeting Arissa at Kn's birthday party. She IS Japanese!!!! Who's worse, me or her parents???