Memory Lane, Poor Cora, and Moving Forward
We're being snowed in as we speak. Again. Henry made it through the whole day at school, but I will be surprised if he isn't home tomorrow. Micah came home early from work, sick for a second day. While he tries to get some sleep upstairs, we've been running out of creative options for quiet activities. I pulled open the living room built-ins and hauled out every photo album, scrapbook, journal, and keepsake book I could find in there. I had visions of us all laying on our bellies by the Space Heater That Looks Like a Fireplace, making little comments about the past, admiring mementos, being grateful that we have so much preserved family history to enjoy. That was kind of what the afternoon looked like. They read the little books we'd written when the boys were little, fun little stories about them or stories they'd told me. The boys looked at their baby books, admiring the little trinkets I'd taped in there, the birthday invitations I'd tucked away. Cora shouldered her little way in and said, "Where's mine? Where is my book?" My heart broke when I found her baby book. I'd filled in the first page--the one that had all the information I could complete before she was born. Not a single picture. Not a single memory of her first days. Not a single weight or height recorded. No little books about stories she'd told me. No book with cute things she'd said. Poor, poor Cora. On the other hand, she has more hand-made doll clothes and accessories than I could have dreamed. She has more one-on-one time than the boys ever have. Maybe I've been lacking in the record-keeping, but there's still been plenty of memory-making.
I sat down with her baby book and by the time the kids had moved on to playing Lego, I had it updated. No pictures, maybe, but I'd taped her little trinkets in and written in dates and firsts and memories. Much better. Maybe her book of stories will be something more along the lines of a pattern book for all the things we've made for her doll, Dana.
Once we were finished with the albums, it seemed silly to put them back in the cupboard. There they were, all gathered in one place. I went to the basement and found a good, sturdy box. I packed each album in, all three kids standing around in awe. This was the moment they've been begging for: we were packing our first box. There's been significant speculation among them as to what would be in the First Box we packed. I guess it seemed fitting that it would be our memory books. They stood around as I taped the box shut, and wrote the contents on the outside. Then we all looked at each other and smiled as Henry said, "We've started packing! Woohoo!"
I'd call that, all around, a good use of yet another cold, snowy afternoon.
I sat down with her baby book and by the time the kids had moved on to playing Lego, I had it updated. No pictures, maybe, but I'd taped her little trinkets in and written in dates and firsts and memories. Much better. Maybe her book of stories will be something more along the lines of a pattern book for all the things we've made for her doll, Dana.
Once we were finished with the albums, it seemed silly to put them back in the cupboard. There they were, all gathered in one place. I went to the basement and found a good, sturdy box. I packed each album in, all three kids standing around in awe. This was the moment they've been begging for: we were packing our first box. There's been significant speculation among them as to what would be in the First Box we packed. I guess it seemed fitting that it would be our memory books. They stood around as I taped the box shut, and wrote the contents on the outside. Then we all looked at each other and smiled as Henry said, "We've started packing! Woohoo!"
I'd call that, all around, a good use of yet another cold, snowy afternoon.
