what to write in a baby memory book when you're exhausted
you don't need a paragraph. you need a sentence and a date. here are ten that count.
the baby memory book is the artifact of a fantasy version of you. the one who slept. the one who used watercolors. the one who knew, on a tuesday in march, that this was the week to write a paragraph about how baby's laugh sounds like a tiny machine that makes the dishwasher jealous.
that's not the you who has the baby. the you who has the baby has fifteen seconds and one functional hand. so here are ten one-liners that count for more than a paragraph, ranked by minimum cognitive load.
the list
- today she did the thing with the foot again.
- first time he laughed at the dog. dog unimpressed.
- screamed in target. survived target.
- found her hands. has not put them down since.
- said something that sounded like 'pasta'. is pasta.
- slept four hours in a row. we cried.
- looked at the ceiling fan like it owed her money.
- tried green beans. green beans tried back.
- first night without the swaddle. one of us wept.
- the noise. you know the one. she did it again.
one sentence beats a blank page every time. you can fill in the why later. you cannot recover the what.
if a sentence is too much, take the photo and add three words. Kaiary will hold the rest for you — voice notes, the date, who was there. you do the noticing; we do the keeping.
