Baby book? What baby book?
Back in October ’09, the hubs and I took Boo to have his pictures taken at the Picture People. To be more precise, it was Halloween day. And all the Picture People people were dressed in costume. Here’s the story…
So this really nice girl with wings of some variety takes the pics and then afterward, this other girl sits down with us to go through the whole picture selection/purchase/sales pitch process. Girl #2 is dressed as Pippi Longstocking. Picture something like this…except live and about eighteen years old:
Scared yet? Still with me? Okay. So I can’t remember what leads her to say this, but she makes some comment about my putting certain pictures in my baby book. And I reply matter-of-factly, I don’t have a baby book. And Pippi says, Well, you might wanna get on that. What I want to say: Hey, Pippi, I’m twice your age and #$@* #%*. What I say: Hmm.
No, I don’t have a baby book. To me, baby book equals work, organization, clutter (egads), and did I mention work? No, people, I don’t have a baby book. I have a small Rubbermaid container with crap in it should I ever want to lift its lid. Oh, and I have this blog. Here I record my memories, because I sure as hell won’t remember squat next month, let alone next year or (gasp) ten years from now. And I want to remember; really, I do, because I have a really crappy memory. Really, really crappy. Crappy crappy. Bad.
And so knowing this, I’ve taken to the computer. I’ve put my digits to work. I mean, my computer is already taking up space. Why get a book to do the same thing? Besides, I totally know that if I ever completely lose my mind and decide to have another child, I would never follow through on a second book for that second child (thus clearly rendering him/her a second class citizen with years of therapy bills ahead). And at least with this blog, I can go back, read these posts, and remind myself just how joyful and easy motherhood really is and why the hell not do it all again, right?
Which reminds me…I totally need to do a post on my labor and delivery (sans graphic details…no worries). Boo Boo’s first birthday is next month and yet, ironically, that memory has stuck. Go figure.