Someday I’m going to organize my photo albums. What? Don’t look at me like that. I am. Hopefully by the time I get around to it I’ll still be able to see what I’m doing and recognize who’s in the pictures. If not, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and I’m on it. I was doing okay for awhile; the pictures in our first dozen or so albums were all in chronological order and captioned. Then I found out this kind of thing is just not even close to normal. I do aspire to normal a lot of the time. You can see where the albums once all tried to make sense of themselves before things went tragically askew. Now every album has missing links and blank spaces and a hodge podge of miscellaneous paraphernalia that falls out after you flip a few pages. Keeping organized albums while at the same time being a big fan of those collage pictures, where you fit a bunch of shots behind the little spaces to make one big conglomeration, turns out to be not a good mix. A lot of pieces went missing for those projects. My mom has taken that concept a step further and has whole albums that scan generations, in no logical order. “Baby so and so” beside her adult son graduating from high school. It’s weird. There doesn’t seem to be an easy cure for inherited weirdness. Anyway, as usual, I digress to the point of forgetting why I started this blog in the first place. That’s why I usually wait to slap a title on these things until I’m finished with them, or they just sort of peter out and end on their own.
A couple of pictures fell out of an album I was looking at the other day and they made me laugh out loud. Apparently I was the kind of mother who, when she caught her kids doing something odd, grabbed the camera first and asked questions later. I’d like to say the theme of this particular photo album is “how my daughter always was very good at getting her brother in trouble” but that is just too vague and could be an over-all theme for a dozen or more of them.
When kids are too quiet, it’s best to investigate. Awww. Just look at that little scrunched up pickle face! Since he was too small to open the fridge or the crisper drawer, I expect his sister did both of those things. But he wouldn’t have needed a whole lot of encouragement to help her empty it. Once his hands were full, what’s the next logical step? Put something in your mouth. Ooops. This wasn’t the day he tried tobasco sauce; that ominous day was still in his future.
What’s worse than too quiet? When there’s an excessive amount of giggling and shrieking.
Look! I finger painted my brother! He likes it! <sigh> Today it’s paint. Can permanent marker be far behind?
I don’t have a shot of the day my kids skated on eggs on the kitchen floor. I think an egg got dropped and broken by accident and one thing led to another. I was almost finished cleaning from one end of the house to the other, and came from that other end to this one to investigate once again. It’s lovely when your kids are able to entertain eachother, really. I can see that now. But then I lost it. I saw real fear in their eyes. A phone call from my mother at that exact moment may have saved their lives. One day you’ll look back on these things and laugh, she told me. Hahaha I said, practicing for the future.