I had a fairly thought provoking conversation with someone this morning. She and her partner are new parents, 6 weeks into the life of a little girl. The topic was videos of the kids. She was asking me if we had them and remarking that they hadn’t taken many yet. I informed her that Hil and I treasure just about every video and photo of the kids that we have. So much so, in fact, that last night, that’s right, Saturday night, we sat on the couch for a good 45minutes watching old videos of the kids. I know that right now, you are probably thinking, hey, loosers with the 3 kids, if you are going to stay in on a Saturday night, the least you can do is step up and rent something on iTunes. Whatever. We know the stars of these movies and its fun to watch them. Although there were more than a few pictures when I had no idea which baby was which. They all look so similar. Anyway – there is no question about it, every memory we’ve logged is sentimental and has meaning to it. And before she went to bed, Hil took a few minutes to back up on the computer on the external hard drive – but I’m getting off track.
I remember that newborn time and how desperate I felt to preserve every minute of it. With Charlotte, every moment was one of fascination. Everything was new. Everything was a wonder. And it was no less so with Ruby, it just had the additional beauty of a second chance. With Arden, it was a little different in that, well, it was the last chance. And with each kid, I know that I said more than once, promised myself more than once, that I would get “that” on video so we would have it forever. The “that” could be any number of things. Peacefuly sleeping, tiny clenching fists, the quick pace of their breathing… for me, the “that” is actually those first noises. The groans and whimpers and grunts that are so tiny it would be easy to miss them and the only reason you catch them is because you are so close to the person making them. And I suppose that is the very reason that I don’t have a single one of those infant vocalizations recorded. They exist, perfectly, in my mind’s ear, or whatever the equivalent of my mind’s eye is, but other than that, they are nowhere. I just couldn’t ever pull myself away from the person who was making them for long enough to get my hands on the camera. Who would want to miss a single murmur? And, now that I am sitting here and thinking back on it, I think I’m at peace with the fact that we don’t have those early vocalizations documented in any way. Because, while the videos of Charlotte in her various tutus, or Ruby running naked on the beach will be fun to share on numerous future ocassions when I want to have a little fun at the expense of my kids, there are some events in life that are just so intensely and serenly and humbly intimate, that they shouldn’t be shared with anyone else other than the people who were there to enjoy them in the first place.
Have a happy family day.
3 Ginger Snaps 