"Karen, do you scrapbook? It really is a relaxing hobby. You should try it."
"Gee, Cathy, I thought I was doing good to have my photos in brown paper shopping bags, organized by decade, stuffed on the top shelf in the hall closet."
I kept my daughter's baby book up to date until she became mobile and mistook it for a teething toy. I left it out on the spare bed in the nursery where it was easy to record each milestone: When she got weighed, slept more than an hour or spit up something in a new shade of white.
Heloise suggested saving old calendars and date books. This works great provided you don't lose your date book (that would be me). I do have a few years worth of old household calendars stuffed in the closet with the brown paper photo bags. I pulled one out recently and looked at all the scribbles, appointments, work schedules, meetings, and outings and wondered when I found time to eat. It also made me think my kids were sick a lot…or at the time I just had a pediatrician who thrived on follow up visits. There were numerous names and places crammed into those little squares I no longer recognize. Scary what a year will do this brain.
Memory loss aside, the saved calendars are better than nothing and do help spark some treasured memories. I just need to figure out what to do this year. I bought one of those giant black and white Month-at-a-Glance calendars about the size of a minivan floor mat and hung it on my kitchen wall. I like to be able to know what day it is from at least two feet away. I don't think it'll fit in the hall closet.
We keep receipts here in the Rinehart house. All of them. My husband's obsession with receipts made me nutty until I realized most stores now print the name of the item on the receipt, making them a virtual scrapbook in and of themselves.
Reading old receipts is like a trip down memory lane — when the kids got their first set of contact lenses, when the flu hit (Gatorade sales sharply increased), when the price of gas skyrocketed, where the kids went on field trips, what they got for Christmas two years ago, the DVDs we watched (and the late fines), how many Hank the Cowdog books we own, and when we traveled (airport parking and Dramamine).
Years from now I envision my grandchildren opening their parent's baby books. "Grandma, why'd you stop filling in mommy's baby book when she turned five?"
"I didn't stop, Karen Junior. Didn't you read all those receipts?"
