When I was growing up, we had a cabinet upstairs with our baby books and a bunch of old pictures in it. I would look through that stuff on a regular basis.
I never get tired of looking at old pictures. Especially old pictures of me.
The first 10 pages or so of my baby book were filled out in great detail, the next 10, sporadically written in, and then the rest is totally blank. My brother’s book may have had his name written in it, but that was pretty much it.
I remember vowing not to be like that when I had my own kids.
So before we even got married, when Number 1 was 6 and Number 2 was 4, I started making scrapbooks and photo albums for them. Every time I had pictures developed, I would make at least 2 copies.
I put all the doubles into albums for the boys so when they went off to live on their own, they could have the albums to take with them and we would still have pictures. I have all their swim and ski lesson report cards, karate promotion certificates, notes from teachers, school report cards, notes and pictures they have made for me, all organized into cute little books.
When Number 3 was born, I documented just about every second of his life. I took pictures of his first shit (not kidding). His first time in the stroller, first time swimming, the exact date of each new tooth and it’s exact location in his mouth. I have newspaper clippings from the day he was born, every single thing that touched his or my body in the hospital.
His baby book is literally bursting with so much stuff packed into it that something falls out every time you pick it up.
Number 4 has a decent baby book. She’s been documented for at least the first 3 years. Her book will still close all the way — no pictures of poop in it, but all the major life events are written down.
Number 5’s book is still wrapped in plastic. Somewhere in my office I have a 2010 calendar, and inside it the days when she got her first teeth are hastily recorded.
Number 6 and 7 don’t even have a book. In fact, I just discovered that Number 7 has 6 teeth, and I have no idea when she got that 6th one.
And damn the invention of the digital camera!
I haven’t developed a picture in about 2 years. There is not one single photo of Number 6 or 7 displayed anywhere in this house. If my computer crashes, they are both totally screwed.
On that note, I guess I should probably go crack open Number 5’s book and start making some shit up.