little that she didn't even bother to write down those incredibly important firsts? Both of my brothers had entire novels written about their first poop or sprig of hair complete with lockets tied with ribbons and even envelopes of first teeth. To this day, she can't tell me my first word, how old I was when I took my first steps, and the stories of the type of baby I was change depending on the need of the moment. She never could seem to remember my birthdate and would often ask me, when filling out the paperwork at the pediatricians office, "Hey, you, when is your birthday again?"
When we had Jack, the shrink-wrapped baby book was even more appalling. I was so enamored with my first born son, I had his pees, poops, and feeds graphed for a solid 4 months. I couldn't imagine there would ever be a child born to me that didn't get every single milestone catalogued in both word and picture. Then Caroline came along and while it was a bit more challenging to keep up with both of their milestones, I was excited about comparing the differences between them. Every other month or so, I would get their baby books out together and compare and contrast and still chronicle as much as I could.
Then we had Sam. Sweet, nothing-really-bothers-him, just-feed-him-and-he'll-be-happy-so-his-nickname-is-"Snacks," Sam. Thank God this was our third kid because he's just about perfect in every way and had I known babies could be like this, I would have returned his siblings back to the hospital in less than 24hrs from
discharge demanding a refund. Sam is always smiling, loves to snuggle, falls asleep without a fight and wakes up laughing. He has never met a food product he didn't like and generally is entertained by anything not attached to his own body. He's rough and tumble and is fortunately around the 90% for his age, which puts him about the same size as his 2 1/2 year old sister helping tremendously with his ability to hold his own against her gremlin-like tendencies. He has been slow to become mobile, thankfully. He didn't really crawl until around 7 - 8 months and just only started cruising the furniture in the last month or so. He still isn't really walking either, which is just peachy with us since the speed (and happy slapping-stomp sound) of his crawl is frightening.
Now, given my angst over my own baby book, I have made a concerted effort to chronicle these firsts of my third baby, but I have very quickly gotten over my aforementioned pissiness surrounding my mother's lack of records on my behalf. There's just no damn time anymore. I totally understand now, with three babes in tow, that it has nothing to do with how much love or adoration there is for my child. Nor has the novelty of hearing him laugh or crawl or speak for the first time worn off (by the way, dear boy, your first word was da-da, following quickly by uh-oh and aah-choo and thank you). It's just that those first words are said while Thing One and Thing Two are trying to see who can yell "penis" the loudest or color with permanent marker highest on the wall and so the moment to take serene focused videos and pore lovingly over a babybook just isn't possible anymore.
So, dear Sam, there just aren't ever going to be the plenitudes of photos or videos or journal entries on you
Happy happy birthday, Samuel James.
I love you.