I raised five children. Back when I was having babies we kept 'Baby Books'. For the first child I had a very well documented and photo filled journal of his infancy. In fact for the first child I had two books I filled, she says proudly. The second child's baby book didn't have quite all of 'life's little moments' in it, but it was fairly well filled.
I should interject here as a plea in my defense...my first four children were what we called stair-step children. For those not familiar with the term it means they were born one right after the other to put it nicely. Picture my children standing in a row. Now, visually go across the tops of their heads and you might think...stair-steps!
So the third and fourth babies had books with pictures slammed in haphazardly and maybe a mention of a tooth coming through or a trip to the emergency room. Not books I can take out and wistfully or pridefully show to their brides. For a while I could get away with saying I would have to hunt those up some day. Then the requests were made for the baby books and said contents for video shows at rehearsal dinners...no avoidance tactics left. Umm, the books are pretty lean and most of the photographs are in that chest of drawers in the guest bedroom. Sorry?
Six years separate the birth of my daughter and my youngest son. Giant step. My daughter has a baby book. It's pink! I purchased it myself determined to do better...sigh. I needed about three weeks to hunt it down when she asked to see her 'baby book' but I did find it. The family tree is filled out and the hospital generated pictures are in it. I couldn't answer to what else may be in there. I got so depressed after the first few pages I closed the book in total avoidance.
All this leads to an idea I had of trying to blog about all the dewy, misty-eyed moments I swore I was going to remember of each child's life with moi. Sadly there aren't as many as I would have wished. I can't decide if I've just grown too old to reach back and grab them; if the front of my mind is so close to the back of my mind there isn't enough space for them? I'm not sure the reason...but nobody's home when I go knocking on memory's door. I have a few...just a few of those sweet little 'Oh this is what I want to remember forever' moments. I like to think if they were born in the age of computers, scanning and blogs I'd have more. I like to think I would. Most of my memories are of chaos and shenanigans.
I remember when the three oldest boys broke all the plate glass windows in the house. They were four boys under the age of six. The baby was keeping me occupied in one room when the first window was shattered. My second born son wanted to see what would happen when he hit his bedroom window with a hammer. The second window went when my first born son chose to see what would happen when he threw a rock...while I was in the room checking out the first shattered window. When I went to check on the second window my third child switched things up on me. He went into my bathroom, opened my contact lens case and experimented with buoyancy. Would the lenses float in the toilet? Would they flush? They did. Float and flush.
That was when I called my husband and
Sadly I have more such memories that come with instant recall. Driving around oblivious to the fact I have athletic 'cup protectors' on the rear dash of the car. It amused my sons to see how many days I would naively drive around displaying an item of playground manliness for all the world to see. Or the day in the grocery I spent walking swiftly down the aisles muttering in soft tones we need to get to the next aisle. Someone's been down this aisle who smells overly ripe. Eventually, I saw and heard the snickers and gaffaws. My sweet young daughter giggling right along with them. It seems, name remains anonymous to protect the NOT SO INNOCENT, decided to see how long he could go without bathing before I would be able to discover his crime. The exact number of days his pre-teen body went without bathing I am gratefully unaware. Landfills smell better than he did that day.
So for now, I wistfully read all the sweet blogs of magical moments. I wish I had been able to capture my sweet memories as they happened. I'm working on finding them. I know I had many. I do get misty eyed looking at pictures of them when they were young. For now, tales like those mentioned above are what come front and center when I go back in time. Visions of thumping walls and bouncing roof tops linger in my dreams.
is the rub...