I took all of the pictures in this post last weekend. I was just loving the amazing January sky on Saturday and Sunday. It was crazy warm and beautiful in January? I'll take it! How much can you say about that in a blog post though?
That's nice to talk about and all, but this sweet child right here found something of mine last weekend that I have to tell you about.
We have been rearranging the unfinished room in the basement. We were attempting to fit more stuff in there. Along the way, I opened one of the many tubs that was labeled "Heather's Childhood." What was inside made my heart melt. I had so many things, like the Garfield I slept with every single night of my youth, the tin can holding my Strawberry Shortcake Miniature collection (that to this day still smell like sweet berries), and my Astronaut Barbie. I mean, didn't all young girls have the Astronaut Barbie? I mean, come on. She rocked.
But Jesse's eyes were drawn to this small little book sort of sticking out from under the stack. She pulled it out, and I couldn't believe I still had it. It wasn't just a book folks, it was my childhood diary. It was my Strawberry Shortcake childhood diary.
Luckily, we did not need a key to look inside. It looked like I had lost it back in the day and had to cut the thing open at some point. Or perhaps my brother did? I shouldn't blame him like that with no proof. Bad sister. Anyway.
It was 1983. I was 10 years old. 10 years old. I was 10 years old, and I had a diary. I didn't write in it that much, but what I did write was so fun to read.
All of my writing was in cursive. Cursive. Will they teach my kids cursive in school? Anyway, I am so easily distracted. It was just an observation.
Most of my writing was just silliness. I wrote about boys. I wrote about friends. I wrote about my family. I wrote if I got to watch the soaps that day. I actually wrote about a school project I was proud of. Nerd.
I was 10, and I watched the soaps. I fought with my brother. I noted when my Mom was in a bad mood, and then I would come back at the end of the day to clear it up and say her mood had changed. The world just ended if I wasn't allowed to go to the Show on Friday night. And goodness gracious if the cute boy didn't ask me to sit with him at the Show. I would be completely devistated.
If you didn't grow up with me, the Show was actually my small town movie theater. Our parents actually dropped us off at this age and picked us up when the movies were over. We hoped a cute guy would ask us to "sit" with them. We ate Watermelon Jolly Ranchers there. We giggled. We didn't actually watch many movies. There was a tall, mean man that monitored the theater isles. When he walked by, you were on your best behavior or else!
Life in a small town...thrilling it was.
Ok, back to 2012. I am 38 years old, and I have a 7 year old son and an almost 4 year old daughter. I will never drop either of them off at a movie theater on a Friday night unattended. I will, however, attempt to find them Watermelon Jolly Ranchers. Now that I have thought about them, I have to have them. They need to be the square kind in the little packet (similar to Life Savers). Do they make them this way anymore?
No, really, back to 2012.
On Sunday, we went to our favorite park again. First thing I noticed was...when did her hair get so long? This happened over night.
This "bench" was a real life Lincoln Log. Super Cool. My kids have Lincoln Logs. I had Lincoln Logs as a child. Honestly, we all liked Legos better. It's just the truth, but at least they understood what this was.
I can't believe that is Luke. He's so big. And that ear. That sweet ear. It will always be a little bit tilted, and I love it.
Now for my monkeys in action.
This tree was so high off the ground. I had to zoom in like crazy.
And Jonah was swinging with no fear.
Ha, just kidding. It was just a low, funky limb. It was still really fun to swing on. I'm totally too protective to let them hang from a high limb...or go to the movies alone...like ever.
It was a great day to be out. I love that we take the time to do this now.
But back to the diary...
I've learned something from my diary discovery. I will buy my kids diaries for absolute sure. I want the old fashioned kind with a little key. I want them to write whatever they want and store it in a secret place. And I totally want them to laugh out loud reading it with their kids when they are 38.
Because (Jesse in particular), I'm pretty sure that when you read how upset you were that Alex was not at the movies on a certain Friday night, and you sat with your friend Barry instead, who you actually didn't like but did just because he asked and Alex wasn't there for goodness sakes, and your friends Blake and Jimbo went back and told Alex and how very upset that made you...that you, my sweet daughter, will start rolling on the floor when your little girl says, "Who is Jimbo?" You will laugh so hard you cry. You will try to remember him and wish him well and wonder why in the world people quit naming their kids Jimbo. Your daughter will stare at you in mass confusion and you will tell her she is free to write on the pages that you didn't.
Wait a minute...I just said my children wouldn't be allowed to go to the movies alone. Oh well, they will not have this story, but I am sure, whatever story they have will be pretty funny.
Thank you Mom for buying me that diary. Thank you so much! I know you can hear me.
And in the words of my childhood Strawberry Shortcake, "Life is Delicious!" Isn't it?