Selling the remnants of DINK life

I’ve spent the morning packing up the last of my expensive, foreign clothing to be sold. I’m not going to lie, I started to get misty-eyed. As I pulled each ruffle from the closet, the lump in my throat got bigger. These had been more than just clothes to me. I had loved these clothes. I had ached for them, burned for them, felt a mad, fiery, enraptured passion for these clothes. I had traveled, worked, lived, breathed for these clothes.

What was I doing?

Then the phone rang and I remembered exactly what I was doing. My husband works like a dog all week long. He’s one of the first people at the office every morning. He never takes a sick day. He’s constantly looking for ways to preserve his usefulness and upgrade his skills. And he does it all without complaint so that the peanut and I can stay home together.

I’ve run the numbers and done the math. If we stay diligent and true, we can have our house paid off in eight years. Eight years, that’s it. Our expenses would drop to a piddly $800 per month. We would have options. We could sleep at night knowing there would always be a roof over our head.

Could we get it done faster if I had a job? Probably. But my husband won’t hear of it. He’ll work harder to preserve the values of this family. And at the end of the day, he comes home with a smile. He grabs the baby in his arms,  puts his hand on the small of my back and pulls me in for a kiss. Obviously tired but never a complaint or an unkind word.

If it means reaching our family goals a little faster, if it means less burden placed on his back, then that’s why I’m doing this. And, hey, if I still love fancy dresses in eight years, goodness knows we’ll be able to afford them. At that rate, I could buy an entire new collection to rival this old one in a matter of weeks.

So I guess I’ll go back to packing. I can’t say it won’t be hard, but I think at this point, it’s the right thing to do.  I’m keeping the candy pop dress pictured, though.  It’s like a pretty, polka-dot souvenir of a bygone era of my life.