In the midst of the Christmas chaos, I found sweet solace. I spent the better part of three days largely ignoring my husband's family and watching "old" movies of my children. I hadn't cataloged any of my tapes since my youngest was born 7 years ago. It was incredibly nostalgic but somewhat depressing as some of the taped events I couldn't even recall. I had forgotten that my mother had taught my youngest to call his older brother, Bubba. How could I forget such an idiotic yet endearing name?
Most of the footage was of Christmas, Birthday parties and vacations. Oddly enough, there was an inordinate amount of footage of my boys bathing. There is something about their little, nekked, chubby, bodies I just want to preserve. It is the epitome of innocence and lack of inhibition. (They watched the tapes with me and my oldest is quite embarrassed now). In one instance, my boys are bathing together. My youngest, who is about 18 months and so chubby he's never laid eyes on his manhood because his Buddha belly is blocking his vision, reaches over to my oldest and grabs his manhood, well, because it looks like something to play with. He's right, but you have to play with your own. Of course he eventually learned that but that's a whole different post.