She ooo'd and awww'd and then said, "Mommy, where's my book like this!?"
I started to sweat. Quick, think fast. I could lie..."honey, there was a fire, a flood, the dog ate it"...but I didn't lie. "Mommy has it started, it's in my closet." She rushed to my closet. Oh I've got it started all right. Her name is written in it.
She ran to her dad. "My book like sissy's isn't started, it only has my name." (I suck.)
My sweet husband tried to bail me out, "Well mom is going to do it, you know when she did your sisters? When you were born. So Lily was almost 3 years old, so see...moms not that far behind with yours." (I don't feel like he's helping me at this point, I can feel the sarcasm. She's broken. I've caused this pain. Then "his help" gets worse.) "Do you want to help mommy do it? Cut the paper and pick things out to go in your book?" Her eyes light up, and she yells, "YES!" GREAT, now I'm behind on this scrapbook, and have a full time project manager to dictate my every movement.
I've GOT to get her 1st year book done, so she'll always have it. They will both have one book that I actually spent time cutting & creating. Then after that, it's printed blogs for me. Someday when my kids feel let down and think they have the suckiest mom in the world that never documented anything in their lives, I'll be able to say..."look girls, look....Mommy blogged, SEE - I do CARE!"