Recently, while tearing my house apart looking for one particular baby picture of my daughter, I happen to run across her baby book in a box of keepsakes.
This box also contained the RSVP cards from my wedding; the balloon, candle, and napkins from my baby’s first birthday; and at least 100 old birthday, baby, and greeting cards from friends and family. What can I say? I’m sentimental. I like to save stuff.
I loved reading what I had written almost 18 years ago. It was like being transported back in time to our tiny apartment in Stillwater. I remember being eight months pregnant and sitting on that awful navy-blue couch filling out “The World As It Was” page. I especially loved reading about the day she was born. I still remember that day so vividly, but reading my own words – the words of a 25 year-old new mother – reminded me of the profound joy and privilege of bringing a child into the world. Something that occasionally gets lost in the everyday activities of having a senior in high school.
Anyway, as I was looking through the baby book I was really proud of myself for documenting all the details of the first year of my baby’s life. (I was a scrapbooker even before there were magazines, websites, and entire Hobby Lobby departments devoted to the hobby.)
One of the pages that stood out to me was where I recorded the dates of my baby’s firsts:
- first smile – May 20, 1993
- first tooth – November 27, 1993
- first step – February 4, 1994
I have a new milestone to add to the list:
- first college acceptance letter – October 8, 2010
Looks like I’m going to need another scrapbook.