Guilt

It has been about a year since I've posted anything about Rocco.
I'm a horrible Blogger.
We have been very busy and Rocco has had an exciting, eventful year.

Kingston YMCA

Rocco took swimming lessons at the YMCA.  He did not take off swimming like a fish.  But he did not hate it either.  I would highly recommend swimming lessons for baby.  It was a fun activity for the two of us to do together and made him a little more confident in the water.  

Mini March to support cystic fibrosis

Rocco started 'school' at The Children's Workshop of the Catskills.  When he first started at 18 months he was either crying when we dropped him off or when we picked him up.  But he quickly adjusted.  He loves his teacher Miss Karen.  He brings home sweet little art projects to hang on the fridge and he even walked in his first walk-a-thon fundraiser.  

He got his first tattoo....

Moved into a new house....

And he turned 2!

Unfortunately, Mommy has not been recording these life events because she lost his baby book.  

I obsess over it.  I feel so guilty.  

Up until we moved out of our last apartment in November, I was updating the baby book religiously.  

The dates of when all 16 teeth came in were written down.  Along with who came to see us in the hospital, his first foods, favorite books.  Photos.  Footprints from the hospital.  The movie ticket stub from his Mommy and Daddy's first date.  

Gone.  

My hope is that it ended up in a box that went with Eric and when he is able to sort through his things he will call me excitedly and say, "Kelli!  Stop freaking out!  I found it!"

It brings me back to my childhood.  The nightstand on my fathers side of the bed had all of our baby books in it along with mementos my parents chose to keep.  

I remember my pastel baby book with pictures of baby animals in unnatural colors.  Pink sheep.  Yellow bear. 

There was a period of time where I was very intrigued by what I was like as a baby.  I would leaf through it.

The first few pages were full.  My mothers handwriting exactly the same in 1975 as it is today.  In it was how much I weighed.  Who my first visitors were.  What kinds of baby gifts I had.  There were some weights.  There were a few 'firsts'.  And then the information started to trickle off.  Each  page I turned had less and less information in it.  

As a kid I remember having this feeling of insignificance.  I questioned whether or not I was important.  Why would my mother stop writing about me?  Didn't she care?  I now know as an adult, that people get busy.  I barely have time to pee let alone blog.  I would assume my mother, who had a total of 3 kids, had even less time than me.  

And as a mother I know that in the beginning, every single second is the most important moment in the world.  At the time it is.  The first coo.  Roll over. Tooth. Solid poop. Uninterrupted nights sleep.  But over time you realize...it really doesn't matter when they get their first lateral incisor.  And that 'favorite song' is completely irrelevant now.  Because your baby doesn't remember it.  He/she has had a dozen favorite songs since then.

Maybe that is why it is important to keep a baby book.  So we can remember those moments.  

So...what do I do?  Pray that Eric is going to find the baby book because I accidentally packed it with his things?  Rummage through the dump because it is entirely possible I threw it out during the chaos of my move?

Get another one?  It wont be the same....I have no fucking clue when Rocco got his first lateral incisor. 

I just don't want Rocco to feel insignificant.  I don't want him to think I didn't care enough.  Because I live to be that boys mom.