Keepsakes

I am a pack rat.  I come from a long line of pack rats.  I won't mention which side that comes from because I do believe some of them might actually read this blog.  A lot of the things that I owned that would classify me as such were items of sentimental value.  Having lost three of my grandparents in a span of less than three years, it took me a while to get to a place where I could get rid of, say, the electric shoe buffing machine that used to be my grandfather's.

I have been able to repress my pack rat tendencies over the past few years.  Couple that effort with the remodeling being done in our home (leaving us less living and storage space) and I will say that I have a lot to be proud of with the amount of stuff that I have purged from this house.

One of my favorite way to keep an item without actually keeping it has been to take a picture of it.  Here are some examples of things I've "kept" over the years.

My grandfather's adding machine

Kissing angels that belonged to my grandmother

Cracker tin that my grandmother used to store
her homemade sugar cookies in for Christmas

       























Connor had been using an old phone of mine to take pictures of what I thought was random stuff. When that phone stopped working, he transferred this activity with requests for me to take these pictures with my phone. It didn't take very long for me to figure out why he was doing this.

It was time for us to leave the garden section of Home Depot.
He didn't want to leave until I had taken a picture of these fish.

Although he really wanted to eat this chocolate bunny he got in his Easter basket,
he waited until I was able to get this shot.

The last nacho in our lunch outing to Target.

Connor is dealing with the impending loss of something by taking a picture.  I get that he copied this idea from me, but the fact that he has the presence of mind to cope with this loss all on his 4 1/2 year old own just amazes me. Up until now, I had only been exposed to my eldest child dealing with upcoming disappointment with tear-filled drama.  But Connor recognizes that this parting of ways will be emotional and skips right to the acceptance stage of grief once that picture is taken.

Cut to yesterday, when Connor got a helium balloon from a restaurant.  Red. His favorite color. 

I want to preface this next part by saying that my children have NEVER had a balloon fly away from them. I am OBSESSIVE when it comes to making sure my kids have their balloons tied to their wrists. I learned how to make a slipknot for that sole purpose.  

After a side trip to a store, we returned to the car with the balloon waiting inside and, as if a vacuum had been switched on the second I opened the door, that balloon took off into the air and with it, my heart.  I was in such horrified shock (again, we've never lost a balloon before), that it took me a second to register the request my son mustered with his clearest choked up voice. "Picture it, Mommy," he yelled.  So, I did.

Now, as I'm typing this blog, Connor comes over and sees the picture that I'm posting. He insists that I didn't put the right word on his balloon picture. So, I let this little boy climb into my lap, put the caps lock on, and try not to tear up as he sounds out the word.

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