The hand-me-downs domino effect

It started with some hand-me-down clothes.

Wait, wait. Back up. EIGHT GARBAGE BAGS of hand-me-down clothes, size newborn to 2T — EIGHT BAGS. Two of the bags were eliminated early in the game for being not from this century but not yet old enough to be called “vintage.” That leaves us with six bags of clothes that make you go “Awwww.”

We kept probably three bags’ worth, and the rest we’re donating and holding on to for friends and garage sales where we’ll charge grandmas 25 cents a pop and buy a pizza with the profits at the end of the day … All that work, a year or two of holding onto bags of clothes? WORTH IT. We’re getting extra cheese and extra mushrooms. It’s worth the hassle of stepping over the bags in the basement to get, oh, ANYTHING.

So, we’re down to three garbage bags full of clothes, some that fit Alice, some that fit Violet, and most that are somewhere in between the two extremes. Currently, Mount Oh My God Are These Really All From Your Sister Where Do They Store This Stuff and Who Do I Need To “Know” To Get An Attic Like That is sitting on the floor in front of our bed, because the one measly little hand-me-down dresser from my youth — its three drawers split between Violet and Alice — crossed its arms and said “Hell no, I’m not putting those in here.”

So, now we’re up to three bags of clothes and the need for a new dresser. Time for the girls to stop sharing: We knew this day would come, OK.

But then I start looking through all these clothes, and I’m getting weepy, right? “SO CUTE and Violet’ll only wear it like ONCE and outgrow it and MY BABIES ARE SO OLD and I’LL NEVER HAVE ANOTHER ONE.”

So, without tears I convey that to my boss at work, and we work out a deal to use my remaining maternity leave time to my advantage, meaning I get Mondays off and can work the rest of the hours Tuesdays to Fridays.

Sounds dreamy, doesn’t it? I know. I know. I held myself together long enough to get home and shriek like that time Aaron T. called me in the seventh grade and sorta, kinda said he liked me. ME! YEEE! I was THAT thrilled, like OHMIGAH.

But now that means I’m working four days earlier in the morning til later at night, and now the whole one-car family schtick is becoming less schtick and more son-of-a.

So now Dave’s talking about a second car.

For those keeping track at home — pencils up — that brings us to three bags of clothes, one new-to-us dresser and a car, should I agree to that.

Now.

I’m a journalist, not a mathematician, but I think the value of the bags of clothes maaay be a little less than that of the dresser I sent Dave out to find at a thrift store and a car …

BUT. If the hand-me-downs keep coming I may be able to FILL the dressers AND have that yard sale-for-a-pizza. Right?

Someone help me with the math.