What is Wrong With Me?

I try not to ask myself "what's wrong with me" very often because I really don't like to think about it. And, well, because that list would take a very long time.

But, as I was hanging up clothes in my laundry room, I realized something...

Let's go back a moment. Growing up, I never really felt like I had enough "decent" clothes. Mostly because my mother and I never saw eye to eye on what qualified as "decent"

Also, because as 5th of 6 kids and 4th of 5 girls with a dad that works for the public school system, we weren't exactly rolling in it.

Apparently, I have decided to overcompensate this fact for my kids.

Exhibit A:


This is 40 (yes, forty) of my boys shirts. Please keep in mind a few things:

1. I only have 2 boys.
2. This is not all of their shirts. There are more hanging in their closet, in my closet, and more than a dozen that need to be washed.
3. Bryon will wear whatever I put him in.
4. Timothy would wear the same shorts and GREEN SHIRT every freaking day if I let him. (don't worry, I don't. much to his disappointment)

So, I ask again, what is wrong with me. My kids don't care, they don't need them, and yet, well, I keep buying them shirts.

Last time I checked there were only 7 days in a week.

I clearly have issues.