I’m a Baby Book Failure. . .

We have a baby book for Charlie.  My mom bought it for me before my belly even showed the slightest hint of our expectant blessing.  It is yellow and green with a quaint little giraffe on the front.  I still remember taping our first and then our second ultrasound onto it’s pages as we awaited the arrival of our very first baby. 

After Charlie was born, I was so diligent about keeping track of all the ‘firsts’ and the ‘milestones’ as well as the ‘teeth’ and the ‘pounds’.  Each month I filled in the blanks with each and every exciting detail that consumed our everyday life.   I still remember how just days before his first birthday I worked carefully to put the final touches in his book in order to show off all his cuteness (and my togetherness as a mother) to his grandparents and aunts and uncles.

Less than a year after Charlie’s first birthday we were so happy to welcome a little girl into our family.  This time, we purchased the baby book after the birth.  Maybe this was a mark of things to come, but I decided it was best because I could now buy a cute little pink book to display the fact that our family now had a balanced male to female ratio. 

The only thing I remember about Chanelle’s baby book is that it was pink.  It’s sad, I know, but I think I may have filled out a page or two, but then everything went dark.  I realize that this will likely put her into therapy, but I’ve got my defenses ready for that.  When she complains about not having a baby book, I might tell her that at least I bought her a baby book–the thought didn’t even cross my mind when Meadow joined our crew. 

Poor Meadow. 

I know I’m not the only Mom who has ever done this.  (Although I may be the worst offender.)  I guess when Meadow was born I justified my decision by thinking that Running Chatter is the ‘new’ baby book.  At least for me it was.  The details of the 6th month weigh-in or the first consumption of pureed peas seemed to pale in comparison to the ins and outs of our daily life or the way my heart is wrecked again and again with the depth of the love of feel for them. 

So instead of filling in blanks onto pre-written pages I chose to write from my heart.  I did that, nearly daily, for a long time.  But anyone who has young kids who are becoming less young, understands that life gets busy.  Pictures are stored on my computer and stories in my heart–just waiting. 

As my writing in this space has waned, I’ve felt that slight nudge of guilt–similar what I feel about the baby books.  No baby book, no blog, no scrapbook, no record–certainly there is no way I will be able to afford the therapy they will need to get over my motherhood deficiencies. 

In all reality, I know they don’t really care.  This blog?  It’s for me.  I mean, it’s for them, too.  But right now?  It’s for me.  I like to record.  I need to record.  I want to remember–I need to remember these days.  And right now?  There is so much to remember.  So many treasure I want to carry with me for the rest of my life.  The simple stories of our simple days and especially, all that they are teaching me. . .

It’s hard to explain.  I don’t really understand it myself.  How in the middle of my day, when I am barely able to keep my eyes open and longing for just a moment of peace and quiet (outside of a room that contains a toilet and toilet paper), and yet still I feel this deep feeling of contentment and a quiet knowing that says there is no other place in the world I’d rather be.

It hit me as I watched them carefully chase down 11 toads and place them in a net.  I stood back and watched in awe as I realized this is a little slice of the world that I have been exposed to only because this is what they do. . .

This is who they are.

They have helped me to slow down and to see the beauty in the everyday and this is the greatest gift they could have given me. 

And let me tell you this–life with Charlie, Chanelle and Meadow?  There is something to notice (and smile at) everywhere. . .

Summer Rain. . .

Pure Joy. . .

Adventure. . .

Humor. . .

Spontaneity. . .

Did I mention Adventure?

You see, even as I feel tired and exhausted and over-whelmed much of the time, I am very much aware of the lingering reality. . .

Anything that I might give them in this life will pale in comparison to all they have given me. 

Now that’s worth writing about.

Happy Thursday, Friends. . .