Dork Fest, and Who is That Kid?

Well, it’s happened. I should have known. I’ve heard stories but never thought it would apply to me. “I’m not like that,” I scoffed. “I won’t ever forget,” I reasoned. “Hah!” says the universe. And so it is. The crime? I have boxes full of photos of Quinn and Logan as babies and toddlers and young aged school kids, and I can’t for the life of me tell who’s who in a good portion of them! I’ve even asked Q & L to help try and identify who’s who, and we still don’t have consensus! The farther away from their infancy we travel, the more elusive their identities become. The other affront?! Jim and I are looking OLDER. Umm, hello, when did those lines appear, and when did Jim get so much grey in his hair. This is that slow crawl to old age that you hear about but never believe. But photos don’t lie, especially photos that aren’t digitized and “photo shopped.” There is no denying that time has marched on, in spite of our acknowledgement or recognition. I guess the only positive in looking through boxes of old photos is seeing that at least my wardrobe has improved. Holy smokes I can’t believe my complete lack of style! And to think Jim still found reason to fall in love with me even though I was wearing oversized t-shirts and baggy jeans and those silly Dr. Marten knock-off brand boots. Can you say cringe fest! Yikes. And my hair! I was being butchered for years and he never said a word…Sweet man. Regardless of our complete lack of style and our inability to recognize our own children, looking through boxes of randomly sorted photos does remind me of how rich and full our lives have been, and for that I’m grateful. Even if I looked like a dork.