Gianna’s 13th birthday is nearing. Along with the internal struggle of dealing with the fact that my baby will be a teenager in a couple weeks, I am also overloaded with the self-induced stress of putting together the epic creation known in our house as “The Birthday Book”.
The birthday book takes me days to make. These 75+ page books document any notable milestone or event from the past year of their life. The first day of 3rd grade, Halloween costumes that costs $50 to wear once, artwork I took pictures of so I could throw it away, soccer games, pet funerals, their undying love for sweets, new friends made, trips taken, funny shit they’ve said throughout the year. You get the point.
I seriously don’t know when these books turned into mini-novels about the girls’ lives. I didn’t intend for them to end up that way. But, like the game of Jumanji, I can’t stop until I’ve won. Which is when they turn 18 and I can congratulate myself on them surviving the dangerous game of being a kid.
Silver lining, Gianna only has 5 books left and Scarlett has 10. However, Baby Girl #3 is just going to continue this vicious cycle. I can only blame myself.
Why I Started
Like almost anything I commit myself wholly to in life, it began with guilt and over-compensation for something I lacked as a child. I started creating these books for my first daughter Gianna because it seemed wrong to stop cataloging everything about her life after the Year 1 Baby Book ended. You know the one. With the dental chart you never fully fill out, vaccination records, family tree that you have no clue how to correctly fill out, and little envelopes to put their first haircut and hospital bracelets in.
Let’s Also Blame My Shitty Childhood, Shall We?
I also wanted to create these books for my kids because my baby book is honestly a pile of heaping, steaming shit. It’s quite possibly the worst baby book in existence. I challenge anyone to show me one that is sadder and shittier than mine. What makes it especially horrible is that, for the most part, I filled out my own baby book myself.
In all fairness, my mom wasn’t equipped to keep me off the main road when I wanted to ride my big wheel let alone fill out a baby book to document my favorite food and number of teeth. In the grand scheme of things, you don’t need a baby book to live. It’s not food, clothing, or a roof over your head.
But, the mom in me feels sad for baby me when I see the photo-less pages and I read in my childhood handwriting that my favorite toy is a box. Yes, a box. This makes the children’s story I shared recently even sweeter, doesn’t it?
I am most definitely overcompensating for the sad little book I have, and the overall lack of photos from my own childhood. These 80 page books I create are probably overkill…but my girls absolutely love them.
Their excitement every year to read all about themselves is both adorable and somewhat narcissistic, but whatever. They will unexpectedly get their old books out once in a while to read through and remember what it was like to be 5, or what it was like when we moved to Florida. Or the funny little things they used to do as toddlers like smell someone’s breath to see if they’d been eating chocolate.
It might be overcompensation, and they might be a time suck, but these hefty logs are my gifts to my girls. I don’t buy them birthday gifts. I haven’t ever. They get these books and that’s it. Everyone else can buy them toys or clothes, but I feel like it’s part of my job as their mom to give them this. No one else can document their life like me….so I must soldier on.
Years from now, when I am gone, these books will remind them of their childhood and hopefully how much their Mom loved them to have spent so much God-awful time compiling the photos and remembering events from the past year. I know they appreciate them now…however being the dicks that they are, they seem to really love finding spelling errors in the books or occasions where I accidentally included a photo that doesn’t even have them in it.
I should probably stop making the books and drinking wine at the same time. That might help my attention to detail…
I loved this idea so much that I stole it. It’s seriously so perfect. As you said, when the girls grow up they will have them to look at and know how much you loved them! ❤️
Spell check: love find?
however being the dicks that they are, they seem to really love find spelling errors in the books
I Love reading their Birthday books Krissy and Big Vince Loves looking at all the pictures lol!!! I guess I’m one of those bad Moms though, I think Vince’s book only has a few pages filled in and never finished. Not sure where it even is, sorry Vince. The other 2 never even had a book, oops sorry guys. Oh well, I do know that I did get them to the year of 18, so does that mean I passed lol!!!! Hard to believe that Gianna will be turning 13, keep on writing, Love You!!!❤
I love that you do this! I remember seeing one at your house and thinking “man, Kris is an awesome mom!” Miss you guys…
Love reading all your informative comments