108 days… and counting…

washing line

Another landmark has occurred… our first washing-lineful of babyclothes! What a strange and poignant sight… 🙂

By way of a little background info, we found a new carboot sale yesterday, just outside Hartlebury, at which we (by which I mean largely Jo) foraged for and acquired our most substantial cache of babythings yet – mainly clothes, mainly barely worn, mainly of pretty decent quality… and mainly a measly 10p an item! My personal contribution to the foraging was the pulling out of a bib with two grinning giraffes on it (with the words, “two very tall giraffe” (no letter “s,” for some reason)), an item which Jo informed me was a “bolero” (but which I only knew as a “cute little red velvety open-jacket-type-thing with little roses where buttons might otherwise be”), a very stylish Winnie-the-Pooh dressing gown… and, joy of joys, an immensely cute, cuddly (but admittedly a little grubby round the edges (and in the middle)) E.T! For only 10p! What an iconic and immensely must-have-able blast from my own childhood! One which Jo just thought was ugly and a little scary (and did I mention grubby?), but which there was no question of us not buying, especially for only 10p, and especially after I had demanded that the stall-holder sneak it into the bag with all the other stuff…

Anyway, in addition to the above, Jo, in the manner of an expert spelunker/archaeologist, donned her safety specs, brandished her crampons and plunged fearlessly into the biggest mountain of babystuff you ever did see… thus extracting uncountable bagsful of hats, booties, babygrows, shoes, bibs, shorts, leggings, pants, cuddly toys, bottles, jackets, an interactive Fisher Price talking-book-type-oojit, and… erm… many other things, whose specific nature I presently fail to recall.

The car boot (by which I mean our car boot) was veritably heaving with the aforementioned. We did, however, later notice that a few of the clothes whiffed a bit of cigarette smoke. Since neither of us are smokers and are therefore sensitive to such things, said items went straight into the washing machine and then straight onto the line, to hopefully become infused with the delightful aromas of nature, thus replacing the less-than-delightful aroma of nicotine. Which brings me back to the original subject of this piece…

The Monumental Significance of Washing Lines!

I mean…

It’s one thing to have them all tucked away in the “nursery,” along with the toys and the stock-pile of nappies, wipes and other accoutrements, but seeing all these tiny white clothes and things out on the line… that’s like we’re real parents! It’s like we’re declaring and blatantly displaying our pending parenthood in public! Okay, so everyone who we know now knows we are having a baby, but I’m talking about the wider public… people who just happen to be walking by and spot our babyclothes on the line and make all sorts of instantaneous presumptions based on what they have seen…

The people who live in that house are parents… they have a baby… they have just washed their baby’s clothes and are hanging them on the line to dry…

Cripes! I think I’ll have a sit down… and another cup of tea…

And think about why a washing line seems like more of a public declaration of parenthood than a blog… :-/

Fisher price talking-book-type-oojit

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