A few weeks ago I was visiting an old friend who is a recent new Mom. While her handsome little man was an absolute doll and I wanted to scoop him up and take him home in my pocket, her delight in sharing milestones was sweet, memorable, and downright annoying.
Love her. Hate her enthusiasm.
Call me shitty, but I can’t tell you what my daughter’s first word was or when she lost her first tooth, or even when she started to walk. Because her baby book wasn’t updated after her first three weeks on earth. And Ryder doesn’t even have one.
When my friend whipped out her perfectly scrapbooked ‘Baby Diary’ and started to explain to me the exact minute her son first smiled, burped, pooped, giggled, and even squeezed her finger, I had to force back the urge to stab a pencil in my eye just so I would have an excuse to get out of there.
Why do we insist on keeping track of these boring things when it comes to our children? Our children aren’t boring!
I was asked the other day how much my son weighed and I honestly couldn’t answer. A little too much for me to carry him longer than 2 ½ minutes without a hernia? A little bit less than his toy box? Maybe twice as much as the largest bag of potatoes at the grocery store? The last time he was weighed was three years ago when the Doctor’s at Children’s Hospital needed to pump him with drugs and they wanted to make sure they didn’t kill him. That was nice of them, actually.
I don’t really see a need to weigh him unless I am shipping him overnight by FedEx to Grandma and even then it would only be to determine if ground service was more cost-effective. And the next time the Doctor’s don’t want to kill him. I’d be all over the correct weight then, too.
There are WAY more interesting milestones to be tracking than the first time our children roll over, cut a tooth, or eat solid food, so why record the day your child pulled himself up on the couch when you can record and relive the exact day they peed directly into your mouth? Now that’s an entertaining milestone!
So, if I could have garnered the enthusiasm to actually make (and keep up with) a baby book… these would be my entries:
That time he shit on your face. Don’t be shy. It happens to us all. For me, I was distracted changing Ryder’s diaper on the couch when, as I was slowly wiping his ass with the wet wipe, he decided to spray mustard from his asshole all the way up my chin. Lesson learned: Wipe fast and keep your face turned to the side at all times.
The first time she fell off the bed. I was super over protective with my daughter, so I remember in great detail the first time I walked away from her and she rolled off the bed. Traumatizing for a first time parent, and completely no.big.deal to the baby laying on the floor trying to eat the carpet lint post-fall.
Babies first meltdown. And not the one where he’s crying in the mall because you haven’t stuck your boob in his mouth for 45 minutes. The REAL meltdown. The one where arms are flailing, shoes are kicked off, and every single person within 5 km has stopped breathing to watch you fumble with embarrassment. Or in my case, walk away and pretend you don’t know the little shit.
That time she grabbed your wine glass and cut her finger. Guilt, right? As a gentle reminder that wine glasses should always be kept out-of-reach and not on the bedside table, record this date, highlight it in bright yellow, and re-read that entry on a regular basis. In fact, visit it every time you’re laying in bed drinking the last of the bottle and about to fall asleep.
The first time he climbed out of his crib and painted the wall with his diarrhea. That was fun wasn’t it? When Ryder did I the first time, I was asleep, so I noticed in the morning after it had dried up real nice on the walls and cream carpeting. Good times. Did you know that dried up diarrhea only chips off with a screwdriver and a whole lot of patience? I do now.
Toddlers first swear word. Don’t blame yourself, it’s going to happen whether the trucker mouth is you, your neighbor, or the random stranger in Walmart who chose the exact moment you walked by to scream “Shit” at his own misbehaving toddler. Mark it down and be sure to note the word. It’ll be a wonderful story to share at family gatherings. For me, “duck duck goose” will ever and always start with an F.
Baby books are boring guys, but I think with the little tips above you can really spice up your own memories of your children’s milestones. I know I have a lot of material for my daughter’s wedding day. Do you?