March 21, 2010
I spent part of today weeding through the endless piles of clothes in my son’s room. He’ll be two in six days. I don’t know where the past two years have gone, but I know today, I packed up a lot of memories.
Like the “Trouble shirt” – it was a simple blue and white stripe T-shirt his grandmother brought him from a trip to the States. It wasn’t anything special or fancy – oddly enough, as I packed it up, I realized that the matching pants were the ones he was wearing (or more likely not wearing, having abandoned them for yet another newly discovered pair of swimming trunks). The t-shirt just reminded me of him last summer – camping in our little RV up in the Mountains. His bum firmly planted on a rock at the side of a majestic mountain lake, refusing to move until we took his photo. I love that shirt and the silly grin he made for the camera phone pictures I took (as we’d not brought our real cameras). Or his “Bean Boots” (like Robeez shoes). He has three pair – one for 0 to 6 months, one for 6 to 12 months and the third and final pair being 12 to 18 months – he outgrew the last size a while back. I remember sliding his tiny, helpless feet into them the first time – with his matching Bean jacket – my beautiful and perfect son – I was so proud.
Then there were the receiving blankets. Seven of them – his Gran made them all. Brightly (and all too often “girly”) coloured soft and well worn flannelette. Memories tumbled around me like socks in the dryer – wrapping him up late at night, covering him as we dashed from car to store, the late night nursing sessions on our living room sofa.
And now as he runs through the house screeching “go outside” covered in chocolate pudding and wearing a pair of too big dinosaur swimming trunks, I think I’m OK with putting those memories to bed – after all, I’ve got many, many years of memories yet to come.
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