Last weekend I spent an evening out with the kids. We had a great dinner and ice cream and started having one of those spontaneous conversations that can't be planned or rehearsed. Both of my kids now know about the "facts of life" and that night the conversation turned to my experiences of their births. I really wasn't ready to get into the gory details of a Casearian section, so I turned it around a little. I told them how Dad was right there with me and got to hold each of them even before I did. CJ said that must have been the worst days of my life. I told him oh no, those were the two BEST days of my life and I had waited all my life for those two days.
When we arrived at home the conversation was still going on so I pulled out the baby scrapbooks. They have seen the scrapbooks before, but it's always new when you bring them out after a little time has past. They see them in new ways. They loved the pictures of me right before going to the hospital and of Kentster in his scrubs and hat. Most of all they loved seeing pictures of themselves right after birth and coming home.
It was one of those moments you know you'll never forget. We kept looking at the pages. Kenzie's books don't go beyond her first birthday (she's 8 now) and don't go farther than CJ's third birthday (he's 10). While looking at the pages I sighed because I just can't seem to find the time to do more scrapbooking. I was also very pleasantly surprized at just how good the pages were. I wished I could spend more time scrapbooking.
Then I had a thought. I love doing crafts and creative hobbies every weekend, but I wouldn't trade the kind of "quality time" I shared with my kids last weekend. I would rather be making memories than recording them.