Baby Books

I have set up an obligatory tradition for myself. Last Mother’s Day I made a little 8x8 scrapbook for both my mom and my mother-in-law, recapping the highlights from Incrediboy’s first year. They loved them so much that I decided to make one each year until further notice, each spanning from one birthday to the next. I have begun selecting and printing the photos I will use for this year’s project these last few days. It’s a time consuming task, just getting the photos organized, but I had expected that.

What I wasn’t expecting was just how bittersweet it would be.

Babies change at a neck breaking pace in their first year. It really is astonishing to see that take place month by month. But at their first birthday, they’re still babies, really. But one to two is a different story.

All the while you are aware that they are changing. People tell you, and you notice yourself. But sometimes you don’t realize how much until you go back and say, look at a group of photos in a condensed progression. As I’ve sorted through 2nd year photos these past few nights, I was virtually shocked to realize my baby is almost gone – having been replaced with a little boy.

When did that happen? How did a chubby cheeked, fuzz headed, barely talking, fat roll laden, unsteadily footed BABY go to a lean, mop topped, jabbering, lightning bolt BOY, just like (snapping fingers) that? I have it all here in front of me in a few hundred pictures … But I still can’t pinpoint when it happened. It just … happened. Somewhere.

My verbal notifications have gone from “Ah-ba-ba-bah” to things like, “Momma, the moon is stuck in the tree!” HUH?

I feel like the people in that commercial that strap their baby boy in the car seat, and then when they get in and look back there’s an adult sitting in the car seat and the voiceover says, “Life comes at you fast.”

Strange how watching your child grow up can be so thrilling and so heart wrenching at the same time. I’m not a mushy person, but I have to think of the saying, “Mothers hold their babies in their arms for only a brief time, but hold them in their hearts forever” – and I just choke up a little.

Well, I should rather say, I never was a mushy person - I guess I am now.

Maybe that’s why scrapbooks have page protectors – to shield the photos from Momma's tears.