Gavin just turned seven.
As I was debating about writing about his birthday and rather upset with myself because I made the best-est ever banana cake with a caramel cream cheese frosting — at his request — but I didn’t get any pictures, (and this is a really long sentence) it occurred to me that because of this blog I have actually done a decent job at documenting my little guy’s life.
So the fact that I missed a picture of his cake. And the fact that the picture of him blowing out the candles was out of focus and blurry, it’s okay. I have my guy. Right here. Since he was about two.
As mothers there is always something, sometimes just the smallest little something, that we beat ourselves up over. For me it has been that I’ve never been very good at taking pictures or video of my kids. I don’t have pictures of them all over the house. I don’t have photo albums and I definitely don’t scrapbook. There are entire family vacations where I didn’t even take out my camera – often because I left it back at the hotel or forgot it was in my purse. I’ve missed birthdays and first bike rides. I don’t have pictures of the first lost tooth.
But I have this.
I have stories. Almost five years of stories strung together with a bunch of recipes. I’m crying as I type this. For the first time I’ve realized that my blog is not completely selfish. Certainly it is to a degree
To some it might appear to be an enormous waste of time. I’m a busy mom. I work. I have other things I could be doing with my evenings and weekends. But it so much more than just a bunch of recipes. It is not just about me. If I wasn’t writing here, I wouldn’t have a place to keep all of this.
Of course, when he is a teenager he may hate that this is public. I get that. But I doubt it will be any more humiliating than pulling out a photo album to show his first girlfriend.
For for now I have a record of this…