Dear Sam & Dear Luke,
I know you have seen the collection of big archival-quality binders on the family room bookshelf. Those are the family scrapbooks. The green ones include photos of fun family trips, outings and vacations (before your time, of course). The pink book documents Emily's first year of life--all with a red, white and pink Valentine's Day theme. Cute, huh? The blue volumes are a minute-by-minute account of Jake's first two years...including the box top of his first Gerber rice cereal meal. What can I say? He's the oldest.
Well, you know those two big manila envelopes sitting at the bottom of the hall closet? The ones all dog-eared and stuffed with random diaper coupons, immunization charts and scraps of blue wrapping paper sitting under a pile of old magazines and last year's science fair poster? Those are your scrapbooks, my darlings.
Please, don't feel unloved. I have had every good intention of making you each your own acid-free book of recognition. I have "it's a boy!" stickers and sailor-suit paper yellowing away in a drawer somewhere. But now that your 4th birthday is approaching, I am realizing that the scrapbooks are just not going to happen. Ever. Somehow, life has not slowed down the way I thought it would and when it does, the last thing I'm gonna do is pull out the scallop-edged scissors and page protectors.
I think you would rather have a happy, drug-free mother than your own silly scrapbook anyway, right?
So, this is my plan. I am going to put all your supplies into beautiful acid-free boxes. Then I am going to put them in a safe place--probably the top shelf of my closet. Then, someday, when the two Ms. Rights come along (and wouldn't it be fun if they were twin sisters named Lucy and Samantha?), I am going to give them each a hug and hand over your precious box of treasures. Trust me, they'll love 'em.
In the meantime, over the next few days, I will write down as many memories as I can of your miraculous and hysterical first year of life. You will have your own cyber baby book to prove that your mother really DID care.