My Semi-Annual Post Whining About My Semi-Annual Sale

So, if you've been around for a while, you've heard me talk about Lilybugs. Lilybugs is a huge consignment sale in my hometown. It's pantsin' huge. Seriously, seriously big. And it happens twice a year. And twice a year, I throw myself into an absolute panic by underestimating how long exactly it's going to take me to prep 200 or so items for sale.

This is that week, folks. The sale is Friday and I've got to have everything entered in the system by 10 on Wednesday and all the tags cut and pinned on by Thursday at noon.

And the panic is unpleasant. I won't lie. (Although I've found a fabulous alternative to ironing that reduces the panic, but more on that later.)

But one thing about this week that is pleasant is the rediscovery of a multitude of things I've forgotten.

I forgot that I have an incredible penchant for small children in sailor dresses. (I remembered because I have about 17 sailor dresses for sale this time.*)

I forgot Maren's white shoes from last summer that I was sure she would completely walk through because she wore them so much.

I forgot about Brynna's fascination with horse shirts.

I forgot about Brynna's phase of absolutely refusing to wear pants for any reason at any time.

I forgot about Maren's annoying monkey toy and how I had to hide it from her to keep her from playing with it 24-7.

I forgot how amazing Brynna looked in that navy plaid sundress and how terrible and skinny she looked in the other navy plaid sundress. And how the navy plaid sundress that looked amazing on Brynna made Maren look ridiculous and the one that made Brynna look anorexic made Maren look like Shirley Temple.

I forgot the joys of little kid crocs and the wonder of dresses with matching hair bands.

I forgot about the little hot pink jacket that's really just a long sleeved tee shirt that snaps up the front that both girls wore forever, it seemed, but that just seemed like the perfect topper for everything.

I spend most of this week, twice a year wanting to pull out my hair. But I'm always glad that I take the time to go through these items, one at a time, carefully, before passing them on to someone else to love. I hope that someone gets those white shoes who thinks they are fabulous and I hope that whoever finds themselves with that little pink jacket understands just how amazing it is. I hope that the crocs bring someone joy and that the horse shirts are met with a similar passion.

And for what it's worth, I hope that I bring home at least a few things filled with as much magic as those I'm taking.

*Only a slight exaggeration.