Now that I’m home alone without the ruckus and rumblings of boy noises around me, it gets might quiet here. On this melancholy rainy day I decided to leave my laptop alone and venture upstairs to make like the Little River Band and go reminiscing.
I pulled out old photos from annual jaunts to Key West with Shan and Chris. In almost every shot we had a beer or margarita in hand and no dark circles under our eyes. I also had thighs that didn’t touch and no back fat. Clearly it was before we had children. Back in the day I used to carry around a notepad and pen and jot down funny quotes that people said. This was particularly damning out of context, but I didn’t record our funny quips for that reason. It’s been fun to pull out those quotes and laugh about our conversations or wonder what the heck we were talking about. I have an almost play-by-play of our 12/31/99 party antics. Suffice it say, we partied like it was 1999. These were pre-Twitter days, but the notion remains the same. I have words, jotted in a tiny spiral bound pad, on frayed envelopes, boarding passes, and cocktail napkins, that take me back in a way that photos cannot.
It’s funny how we forget the everyday words that weave the fabric of our days. Words that shape an experience are left as empty cartoon dialogue bubbles next to images etched in our minds. Somehow it’s always the words we forget.
After I laughed at those old photos and walked down Memory Lane, aka Duvall Street, I pulled out one of the baby journals I kept for Bird and Deal. I started those books when the boys were born in 2003 and 2005 respectively (I even kept pregnancy journals for each.), pre-blogging times for me. I kept paper journals and wrote in ink. I like the idea that one day when I am long gone my writing will live on. My sons, and perhaps their sons, will read my words written by my hand. There’s a certain magic that’s lost in typed words littered with emoticons. Written words take you back somewhere in time.
I thought I’d share a few scribbles that made me smile. And I hope this brings the corners of your mouth turn to a sideways )0 key.
Bird, at age 3:
Upon seeing a priest in full robes, Bird remarked, “Who’s that man in the dress?”
Proving he’s smarter than I am. Bird, at not quite three years old:
“Do snakes have feet? – Bird
“No.” – Me
“So they’re not like salamanders?” – Bird
“How do you know that word?” – Me
“I don’t know. Snakes are salamanders without feet.” – Bird
Bird, just before he turned 3 already had an affinity for homonyms:
“Pee pee comes from pees…a different kind of peas.”
Also at age 3:
“Mommy, I’m not going to eat glue anymore.”
Bird, almost 4:
“Actually Mommy, I do know everything.”
Deal, at age 2:
“You happy, Mommy?” – Deal
“Yes, Deal, I am happy.” – Me
“You happy, Bird?” – Deal
“I’m never happy!” followed by a grunt – Bird
Bird, just weeks away from turning 3:
“Did cavemen wear shoes?” – Bird
“No.” – Mac Daddy
“Is that because they didn’t have mudrooms?” – Bird
Easter Eve 2007, when Bird was 3 1/2 and Deal was 1 1/2:
I wrote this: Bird and Deal, your father loves you so much that he is out at midnight in 20 degrees to hide Easter eggs. He is adamant you hunt for eggs right away in the morning and has even schemed to place eggs so it looks like the Easter Bunny dropped them on the way to our house. This is one reason I love your daddy so much.
And of course, there were gems like this one, scribbled after dinner. What Bird said at age three at the dinner table when we said our “thank yous,” where we all take turns saying something we’re thankful for from the day instead of saying a prayer before we eat:
“I’m thankful my family loves me.”