i forget to remember

The other morning, on the way out the door, I noticed that Britton had on a thoroughly awesome outfit. Notice the flowered tights, pink headband, twinkly shoes, and princess necklace.  This girl is so impressed with herself, and I can't blame her one bit.  I have to let go of control when it comes to what she wears, but that's fine as long as she's weather-appropriate.  

And then it occurs to me that I only remembered this outfit by looking at photos on my phone.  Monday's pictures became Thursday's memory moment.  There was a time, not so long ago in the grand scheme of things, where I actually had film developed into a stack of photos.  Now I have photos on my phone - my 25 year old self is wondering how we got here.  I have a friend at work who tentatively admitted to me that the only photos that exist of her ten-month-old son are on her phone.  I get that completely.

When I was visiting Jessica last weekend, I admitted that I couldn't remember Britton being Emily's age.  Emily was wearing an old outfit of Britton's, and I couldn't remember Britton being small enough to wear it.  And Jessica said that she doesn't remember events so much as she remembers the photos of those events.  That struck me because it is the best description ever of how my memories are.  This isn't an issue of spending too much time behind a camera (or phone, for that matter) and not being present in my life.  This is an issue that so much of my life is taking precedence over my brain space.  Between 10 hours of work a day, remembering grocery lists and library day and making dinner and reading bedtime stories, and sitting down to catch my breath before crashing on the couch, and sneaking 10 minutes here and there to quilt or watch a non-Dora show, or whatever, my brain is getting filled up and pushing out all these great plentiful memories of my daughter.

Last year, I kept a "sentence a day" journal - where all you wrote per day was one occurrence, even only one sentence if that was enough, and it almost always revolved around Britton and her day.  I lost the journal habit when we moved, but I need to get back to it.  So many things happen that I want to remember.  Like the morning we were going to daycare and I went a way Britton didn't want to go and she got snippy about it, and then upon getting to school, out of nowhere, she apologized "for being rude."  The first time I'd ever heard the word "rude" from her.  Or the other night when she asked me if her baby brother wears clothes in my belly, and if he has a mommy in my belly with him to take care of him.  If I don't write these memories down, they will be gone forever.

And it scares me because soon it will be two kids fighting over memory space, and years of childhood not yet reached, and I'm just hoping that I don't have to look at my phone to remember it all.