I’ve started a special memory journal recently. Remember when, is a common phrase in our house. The boys love hearing stories about the things they got up to when they were younger. We have so many stories that we tell time and time again, we really have made some amazing memories over the years.
I was thinking the other day though, that there are so many stories I haven’t ever told them. Without being morbid (though obviously I am) I thought to myself what if something happened to me, and these stories are never told to them. Or as time goes by I forget them. For stories after my youngest was four and his brother six, Si will be able to tell them in his words from his perspective, but not from before or in my words.
So I’ve decided to write them all done in a special journal for them and also for me. It will be something lovely to look back on in years to come and will also be something sincerely personal for them to share when they’re all grown up.
When ever my time does come, the chances are I won’t have a lot of money or worldly goods to give to my boys, but I’ll be leaving them something much more valuable to cherish. My memories and theirs, pages full of laughter, cheek and happy times.
I’m planning to write how I felt the first time I saw them, my proud mum moments, just anything I can think of that I want them to remember and to know.
I’ll definitely be including the time when one of my children had to be sawn out of a mini wooden seat their little chubby leg had squeezed its way through. I’ll be including the time when they both snuck out of bed before I got up (I am a ridiculously heavy sleeper) and made a breakfast picnic…. basically picture everything from the fridge and cupboard poured all over the dining room table and then four pints of milk poured on top of it – gravy granules, milk shake powder, frozen peas, fruit, yoghurt and more.
They managed to fit most food groups on to this table, the mess was epic and despite how proud of themselves they were for making ‘breakfast’, I put a lock on the kitchen door. A week or so later, they climbed through the serving hatch and did it all again. I was somewhat impressed with their stealth skills and ingenuity – this is much more polite than what went through my head at the time….
Stories like this now make me smile so much, all of these plus others that I won’t write on here as they’re just for us, plus the boys would kill me…. will be going in this journal. Hopefully one day, I can sit with my future grandchildren and read them the stories of what their Daddies used to get up to.
I’m not going to put it in any type of order at all, I want it to be an eclectic mix of memories as they pop into my head. I want them in future to read it and smile, laugh and remember.