I lifted the chest and pulled out E's baby book. I flipped through the half written-half empty pages; reliving his precious first year...er six months that I wrote in the book.
Oh look he rolled over at four months.
His favorite book was "Itsy Bitsy Spider".
My first born.
I then glance over guiltily at the fresh unmarked pages of Conner's book and sigh. I am already behind. As I pulled the book out and looked through the pages, I realized that time is flying and memories are not quite as sharp as the day I brought him home.
Newborn outfits don't quite look like the ever would have fit on his pudgy little body.
Last night as I was giving him a bath, his little hands were grabbing everything they could.
The soap bottle.
The sprayer nozzle on the sink.
He is growing at an alarming rate.
How is it possible to record everything and preserve every memory for the next decade of his life.
4 months, 4 and a HALF MONTHS, ALMOST FIVE MONTHS????
It couldn't be.
Last night my eldest played his guitar for me while we sang songs.
ASKS GIRLS OUT.
Rides his bike down the street with his friends.
9 years, 9 and three QUARTER years, SOON WILL BE 10 YEARS.
So I write.
Trying to preserve every memory for them.
I am so blessed.
I get to be their mom. I get the bumble my way through awkward conversations, late dinners, household chores. Teaching them how to love and laugh. Struggling the thin line of holding them close and teaching them to fly.
Playing army in the dirt in the sand pile (hopefully it won't be filled with cat poop like last time). Riding bikes. Baseball. T-ball. Camp-outs. Match-box cars. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
This life is good.
This life is mine.