THE DREADED YARD SALE

My youngest daughter decided to have a yard sale for the specific reason to sale all of my grandson's baby clothes. She is pregnant with a little girl and will no longer need my grandson's baby things. She and her husband have decided that this baby will be the caboose. I did not think I could depart with his things so I opted out of helping with this sale. Well guess what I did? I felt sorry for her because she was pregnant having to care for a two year old while watching her money box, and helping people at the yard sale, so I not only told her I would keep the two year old but I ended up spending the night, staying up until 11:30 helping her price things and eventually going to sleep with my grandson in his full sized bed (I am used to a king size.) He is not used to sleeping with anyone so he kicked, slapped, poked, and rolled over every inch of my body. When I awoke the next morning I felt like I had been beaten or either a steam roller had rolled over my entire body in the middle of the night. My grandson looked as if he had had a rough night too. He woke complaining with a toenail hurting. I started questioning myself. Did I get aggrevated in the middle of the night because his toe was up my nose and bit the whole end of his toe or did I in an unconscious state pull his toenail part of the way off while extracting it from hip bone? I began to get very concerned when thinking back over the fact that there was not one inch of his bed I had not slept on in the course of the night. At one point, I felt myself sliding backward off the end of his bed. As I caught myself before hitting the floor, I questioned how on earth I ended up in this twisted position at the foot of his bed. But getting back to the hurt toenail, I vaguely remember a child whinning and me pulling a toe from an entangled cover. The more I thought about it I realized he had a hangnail on his toe and it had gotten caught in his cover. Mystery solved, I think (I pray I didn't do anything drastic to it.)
My daughter was up, showered, dressed and looking very perky. I and my grandson on the other hand looked as if we had been in a battle and we both lost. She needed to go and put up one more sign so she left the two of us starring at eachother across the table. To my surprise, people started coming to the yard sale 3 1/2 hours early. I had on a tee shirt, Bama pajama bottoms and no bra, my hair was tossled all over my head, and I had very little make-up on and tremendous bags under my eyes. I gathered up my grandson and we walked outside. ( I couldn't leave her garage unattended.) Every woman will understand the image of me walking out amoungst 5 people, I didn't know , doing the bent over like an old woman walk so they couldn't see what a white tee shirt would reveal without a bra. Come on now, you know that walk, bent at the waist as far over as you can possible get, pulling on the shirt so it won't stick to your chest. I think I drew more attention by doing this rather than just walking with confidence out to greet these strangers.
There was one younger pregnant woman who was looking for little boy clothes. I felt bad but I could not bring myself to help her. There neatly hung on 3 huge racks were my last grandson's clothes. I stood at the end of the rack crying (like I didn't already look a mess.) I explained to the woman that these were just clothes to her but it was the end of a chapter in my life to me. I don't think she thought I was all there mentally. I told her I remembered him wearing each and every piece of clothing hanging on the racks and it pained me deeply to part with any of it. She had three little outfits in her hands and as I walked over to help another woman she placed them back on the rack and she an her husband almost ran for the car. I felt bad but I didn't want to close that chapter in my life. I am 51 years old and have closed so many chapters but not having any more grandsons was just too painful for me to have to deal with. When my daughter returned, I let her handle the yard sale and I enjoyed the rest of the day with my grandson. As I was playing ball with him, I realized that it was not a chapter ending but a new one beginning with all of the experiences of life I will be spending with, teaching, and enjoying my two grandsons. Well, the old cliche' is true, "Do you look at a glass half empty or half full?" All along I was looking at it half empty. I sure wished I had thought about this when the pregnant woman was holding some of my grandson's clothes.