Not to long ago I had an idea. There are all these things my husband and I say to each other when we talk about our kids for example; how big Charlie’s heart is or how fantastically Van laughs, and I thought; wouldn’t it be nice for them to know these things later in life when it might really mean something.
So I trotted down to the supermarket and actually remembered to pick up a couple of dollar Mead marble notebooks while I was there. One for each child so that I may begin writing to them. Anything and everything. Whatever comes to my mind about them, themselves, their lives and their family and how much we love them and why.
I have seen this recommended for pregnant mom’s to document their feelings and experiences being pregnant but this being done it seems more for the mother, for that one day after the baby is born to look back and relive those sometimes glorious, sometimes horrible times. These books will be for my boys, for when they are adults and for when I am long gone. Their everlasting piece of me.
I have been thinking about the appropriate time to one day give these, what I am assuming will become numerous book over the years to them. On their wedding day? When they go off to college? Have their first baby of their own? but then I thought, they probably would all want them at the same time so that one doesn’t have it and the others do not. After all I wouldn’t want to foster any adult jealousy, especially when they will be old enough to drive cars and purchase guns. But maybe I’m giving my impact on my kids more importance than is real when I envision them shooting each other over handwritten words from their mama. Perhaps the “right” time will present itself sometime in the far off future.
When I was a child I used to agonize every night recounting everything that had happened that day so as to commit it to memory. I didn’t ever want to forget anything and in my adolescence I frequently thought about writing my memoirs which in itself would be absurd coming from an eleven year old. Oh the life I’ve lived, the things I’ve seen these last eleven years. You just don’t even know!!! I was actually pretty good about remembering even the minutest of detail without ever committing the information to paper, and then I had babies who stole all my brains. If you want a real glimpse of the zombie apocalypse just find a mother with a newborn whose brains have been devoured by her little bundle of joy. That would be more accurate than any horror movie.
So even though I’m starting Charlie’s book on the eve of his fourth birthday and Van’s as a nineteen month old I figure, it’s never to early or late to start. To put down in writing all the wonderful, embarrassing, genius and ridiculousness that is my boys. I can’t wait to see their faces when that day actually comes when they do receive them. I can only hope it’s as amazing as I’ve imagined it and that no one gets wounded.