I suck at scrapbooking.
Don’t get me wrong, I make amazing and beautiful pages. But what I really suck at is actually carving out the time to set out my stuff and work on the scrapbooks for my kids.
I figured, the books were really for me anyway, right?
So then, I switched the digital albums. Way better because you don’t have to see my messy writing and I can mess with them while I am pretending to work (the same time I update my son’s baseball team stats and Christmas shop).
And even still, sometimes there are small memories when I am not at my computer and I want record them in the moment, so that the worrying and nagging thought in the back of my neurotic mom brain that I will forget, will subside. I worry I will forget what my daughter smells like fresh out of the shower, or the overwhelming pride I felt for my son when he hit his first homerun.
Or that somehow, they will forget. Forget how much I loved them. You know, I am fully aware that the day will come when they decide to spend a few years hating me. My son is 11, everyone tells me that day is right around the corner.
So, now, I email them.
After all, it’s 2011, emailing is the new scrapbooking.
I set up email accounts for each of my kids, like email@example.com, etc. And now I send her emails. All the time. I email pictures of her with her best friend and why I love the friendship that they have. Knowing that it is not likely that they will still be friends in 20 years. But today, I love their little bond. I love their honesty and the way they look out for each other. Or when she got her first report card, or was in the school play.
I email my son when I see him love and care for his sister. I send him pictures of him taking care of his dog or working with his dad. There was the time their great grandma died. I want them to know just how amazing she was. How much they loved her. And how very much she loved them. They were too little then to really remember her when they are adults.
Some emails are super long. Some are just a picture and one line. The emails serve as a dialogue that I would have with them when they are 30, and we are friends sitting on the porch with a glass of tea.
And one day, when I know they are old enough to appreciate them, I will give them the email address and password. The emails will be there, waiting for them, in date order. I hope they can read through them and laugh and enjoy every moment of entry.
More than anything, I hope it reminds them that I loved them every day of their lives. That I was present, and that I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Curvy Girl Guide Contributor, Tracey, lives in Southern California with her perfect husband and two perfect kids. When she is not busy being perfect, she works full time, raises her kids, feeds the dogs, volunteers at school, serves on the board of her little league and coaches her daughters softball team. She also is quite busy redefining the word “perfect.” And to all those girls that made fun of her in school, they can suck it.