Stephen and I are foolishly (or brilliantly) in the mist of 4 or 5 moderate to large home improvement projects with no extra money to spend. The simplest and cheapest project is converting our unused office into a family room. We began by moving the boys trundle into that room and buying bunk beds for two 4 year olds in August. So now there is a big old “couch” in there just waiting for the finishing touches—throw pillows, blinds, built-in shelving, new custom closet door, and a fresh coat of paint. But first, we have to rummage through all the crap that has been hiding in that room! A slow and painful process that involves stacking crap all over the house as we go through it. It is a challenge for two people that hate crap.

Last night I finally decided to tackle the keepsakes—two large drawers and one file folder brimming with letters, cards, photos, playbills, graduation announcements, art projects, locks of hair, and dried up belly buttons. Armed with 4 over sized Tupperware boxes and a knack (or a sick, crazy love) for organizing, my goal was to divide Henry and Wyatt’s keepsakes into two separate boxes.

This morning they wanted to revisit the boxes again. From my room I could hear them sharing their objects with each other. Wyatt shouted with excitement as he showed Henry an art project from New School.

Remember making this, Henry? At New School?

Of course Henry did. They apparently remember lots of things! Who knew—four year olds have memories from their days as three year olds.
Then Wyatt went on to tell Henry the story of Henry’s birth—this story gets told a lot because Wyatt came home and Henry stayed on for another night. But they have it memorized, they don’t remember it. At the end of the story Henry asked me if he was scared at the hospital all alone. I don’t know if Henry was scared. I was scared shitless, I can tell you that. His question made my heart ache. They are so beautiful.

And then Wyatt picked up a copy of one my many ultrasounds.

This is from when we lived in mom's vagina.


Dude, you never lived in my vagina. You only came out that way. You were in my tummy or, I guess, my uterus.

Ah, the beauty of life.