Little Moments and tiny socks
Yesterday we had no electricity in our complex and the wifi was down, which honestly meant that there wasn’t any hope of me getting work done as my WIFI requires the electricity.
So, instead after school lessons, I decided to sort Hamishs cupboard. I’ve ordered some new clothing and it was time to remove anything that doesn’t fit him any more.
I do this a few times a year and I’m not incredibly sentimental about it. The normal process is a few boxes nearby and we add whatever it is to the relevant box to gift on or throw out.
I’ve done this at least four times this year alone. I do this to everything – clothing, books, toys, outgrown school materials. There was nothing special or new about my spring cleaning process.
So,
Why was I sobbing a few hours later when retelling this story?
Because of socks!
Socks?
Yes, socks …….
Let me explain.
I love buying socks. It’s honestly normally the first gift I buy a baby and the first thing I think to add to add humour or that touch of cuteness to a fun day or holiday.
However, I also hate wearing socks. They are uncomfortable, scratchy and choke my feet. Hamish has inherited my same intolerance for socks but this has never stopped me buying him way too many pairs of superhero socks.
Over the last 9 years, we’ve supported every version of socks that have Batman, Spiderman, Hulk, Superman, etc beautifully woven between the threads.
Just this bundle alone was 32 pairs. Ridiculous…I know !
No one needs 32 pairs of socks , let alone 32 pairs of superhero socks …unless of course your mother can’t stop buying them. ( just saying)
Anyway, I digress . . . Each year, when I sort the cupboard, I bundle up the mostly new socks and gift them on and each year I add to cart several new pairs.
And so my superhero sock cycle started and continued.
Until this year!
As I sat on the hard tile floor sorting through these cute reminders of just how little Hamishs feet were 6 months ago and how a small a pair of size 12- 1 Superhero socks is , my eye caught sight of the latest additions to the sock drawer.
Their ominous shades of nuteral colours glaring at me like a traitorous creature hiding in the shadows.
The sleek black socks and the smart white socks. The Springbok supporter socks and the branded Mr Beast socks that honestly cost me way more than 9 years supply of superhero socks. All lined up waiting to re-enter the cupboard as the new chosen heros.
But I’m not sure I like them very much just yet.
These new socks don’t play superhero anymore. They don’t grab their Cape and loudly scream and jump on my couch to catch a villian.
They seem to carry a different story, they scream I’m growing up and unlike their Superhero predecessors who don’t care if their pj pants are the outfit of the day nor if their socks match their outfit.
These new socks friends are more grown up. They all match and they have a whole new personality. One I don’t know fully yet.
Not quite tween but also not little boy any more.
And
So, my mom heart broke a little and I gulped back as warm salty tears stung my eyes watching a life time of superhero socks grow up , knowing that this is the last time I’ll be sorting out a draw of mostly unused but far too cute not to buy, Superhero socks.
This is 9.
It’s grown enough to know himself and express his likes and dislikes. It’s finding his style and expressing his identity through the clothing he chooses and it’s his mom realizing that there are so many things we will start to let go of as his world makes way for new things, new opportunities and new interests.
As I sit here with my cup of coffee, reminded that we never know when it will be the last time our child does thing, I’ll shed my bitter sweet mom tears and maybe, just maybe I’ll keep one of those pairs of Spiderman socks to look back on.
