A word of caution to moms....
Don't start something with one you can't finish with three or four or seven.
I did and I'm a little overwhelmed.
You see I have these picture books.
My girls love them. They will flip through them for hours, talking and reminiscing. There is one for each year they've been with me. Well, kinda.
I'm not super fancy. These books are full of pictures and mementoes collected as we lived life. There are no stickers, no embellishments, just a piece of scrapbook paper, a Sharpie and an exorbitant amount of smashed pennies.
You see, when Hannah first came it was easy. I had one child, one book each year. Then Ashley came and it was a little tougher, two children, two books. Then Amy came. Amy doesn't have a book. Yet.
I was the third and final baby in my family. The oldest, my sister, has a baby book filled with pictures and locks of hair and memories. My brother didn't fare as well, but his book had some pages filled out. Mine was still wrapped in cellophane.
But I'm not saying a word, because that's exactly what's happening here.
Hannah should be on book nine.
She has six. I have no idea who those girls are in the bottom right photo.
Ashley should be on book six.
She has four. I have no idea who the girl is in the bottom right photo.
Amy should be on book three.
I have no book to show.
Looking back would I have done something different? Possibly.
Maybe I would have gotten digital books. Maybe I would have just filled a book as we went, not having one for each child or one for each year. Maybe I would have just done memory boxes, collecting the memories without having to organize them. All of those would have worked.
But I'm glad I didn't. Because the girls love their books.
I think part of that is because they were adopted a little bit older. Because they remember the years when no one took their picture or or kept their movie tickets or saw their name in a recital program.
I've continued to collect the memories and take the pictures.
Now to get those memories into books....