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Some of us scrapbook, others use a plastic tote.
First times, milestones, memory markers-the things that are etched in our hearts and minds forever-we all go nuts over these, tediously creating scrapbook pages, carefully toiling over entries in baby books or if you are like me, just stuffing them in a plastic tote box full of playbills or pictures. All kinds of people, me included, are sitting; waiting to see what new first memory will happen that we can store so that in the future we can pore over our cache of joy and reminisce.Yet, sitting back in the dust of the firsts are the seconds, thirds and fourths. They don’t get a lot of glory, but they still invoke the same feelings of joy, maybe tears, and a pride no different than that a first time brings to the moment.
There is no difference in the joy felt after the birth of second or first child. Maybe the anticipation isn’t the same, but there is no disappointment. For the third and the fourth, for me, it still held true.
First words bring squeals of surprise, especially when it resembles our coveted title, Ma. But the words that come after string together ideas, a piece of what our little ones are thinking about their new and ever-changing world.
Pictures of the first day of school dot the social networks, children dressed in their first-day best, sporting brand new backpacks, and maybe uber-cool lunchboxes. Yet, the next days of school are what bring the flurry of activities showing progress, growth and the burgeoning interests of our offspring. The second, third and more days are the meat of the year-where the events that are filling the scrapbook pages really happen.
The first tooth lost is indeed exciting, the revelation that a tooth fairy exists, and a child’s own story to tell his classmates. Really, though, each tooth loss-or in our house, extraction, my children are like amateur dentists-is a really big deal. To them-and I won’t lie-me. It’s a reminder of time passing, the reality that they are growing up and soon, there won’t be any baby teeth left to lose.
My eyes welled with tears the first time I watched my daughter march in the band at a Friday night football game. Many games later, I still hold back the tears. The first school spelling bee my son competed in, I sat on the edge of my seat, gripping my chair and my breath held. The same with the second and third and with each loss, we had consolation ice cream. That makes everything better, whether it is the first or fiftieth time. Each event in Scouts brings a flurry of emotions to this sappy mom.My kids are older and I have fewer firsts to memorialize, but each subsequent event holds an importance in our lives. The development of their personalities, a glimpse of what they might want to be when they grow up and stories for them to tell their families, if that is where they choose to go.
For me, every event, however it is numbered, is another treasured entry in one of my large, plastic tote boxes-which I will hopefully and joyfully, share with my grandchildren when the time comes.
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