Peppermint was part of the team at {we are} storytellers with me, and she's become one of my most favorite scrappers. I love her minimalist design and gorgeous photos, but I'm most drawn to the way she tells a story. Her voice combines wit and sarcasm with insight and reflection, and each layout beautifully captures a piece of her life in a way that's truly unique. I think she just rocks, and I pretty much decided, when I first met her, that I want to be Peppermint when I grow up. Just sayin'. :)
There came a fateful day late in 2008 where I was asked to take a few minutes to choose a few of my favorite layouts from that year, and since I’m all about delegating I felt it was only fair to tear my son away from a pile of Legos and make him do it. That’s why I’m here – to ruin all his fun. Perhaps you all have children who come willingly to their scrapbooks, but that wasn’t my boy. That would all change one day, but more on that later.
As we flipped through the images I started pointing out to him all the interesting techniques and design concepts I had used on each page. You can imagine how enthralled he was. “Ooo, what about this page? I had really great depth on my shadows here, and notice how the composition flows from one side to the other? Is THIS one a favorite?” Not. Even. Kind of. Turns out my boy didn’t really care about shadows. Can you imagine? I was already opening up my browser to Google the nearest DNA lab, because obviously there was a mix-up at the hospital 8 years prior. I’d had my suspicions all along because he doesn’t like cookies either, but this drop shadow thing was the final straw. Oh sure, this one looks exactly like me, but something is horribly amiss.
About halfway through 2008 I joined the creative team at {we are} storytellers, which is where I first met Audrey, and to say that I joined the team as a “reluctant journaler” would be an understatement. I was utterly convinced they would not turn me into a storyteller, but there was something in the water there that eventually had me writing on my pages with ease. And wouldn’t you know it, once Nicholas arrived at the halfway point in his album the post-it note markers started flying. He plowed through the first half of 2008 in about 10 minutes, he spent over an hour in the last half of 2008 – and it wasn’t the shadows that were drawing him in.
At that exact moment my entire scrapbooking philosophy changed. I vowed then and there that in 2009 I would create more meaningful pages. Not just meaningful to me – meaningful to him.
The thing about 7 year old boys (and 8 year olds, and so far 9 year olds, too) is that you probably have a ton of things you want to say to them, but only so much they’ll listen to. So when I started journaling on my pages I thought about all the things I wanted him to know one day - entire streams of thought that didn’t always get verbalized because his favorite show was starting in five minutes. I will admit that there’s a lot of sappy, mushy mom stuff in his albums.
But I try to temper it all with a smattering of odd-ball commentary on the puzzling things he does, or the funny things that come tumbling out of his mouth – the ones he didn’t know I’d be preserving for all of eternity.
I don’t always need a picture, I just need a moment. I’ll paint the picture with words, because there are things I never want him to forget.
As time went on, telling the story of our lives became more of a deep-seated need for me than a casual idea. Putting a thought down on a scrapbooking page allowed me to release it, free from the fear that it would be gone forever. Four days after the loss of our family pet, I created this page with tears streaming down my face – but it gave me a sense of closure to know that I could look back on it at any time. I still choke up to this day when I open it, but I wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything. This is part of our history.
Nobody is safe in my new kingdom of storytelling. If you’re in my life, chances are you’ll appear in my scrapbook at some point in time - even if I don’t have a picture of you. In this past year, telling the story of our lives has actually become far more important to me than whether I actually have an image to go along with it. Have words, no image necessary. I bet our snow plow driver wouldn’t guess in a million years that he’s a part of our family history, but his mere existence (and apparent vendetta against Tom) is a big part of our lives every winter! I’ll want to remember that when we’re sixty years old, believe it or not.
And that’s what it really boils down to for me – what I want us all to remember. All of the conversations Nicholas never thought I’d memorialize for all time. All the little ways that I marvel at the person he’s becoming. The happy times, the sad times, the people who come into our lives and stay forever and those who pass through too quickly. I want to flip through pages describing our favorite pastimes, our favorite technology (at the moment), the stories of who we were, who we are, and who we want to become. Those pretty pictures and well placed elements of early 2008 are no longer enough. I want the history of us.
About Peppermint: I'm a 30-something mom to an 8 year old boy (Nicholas), a clinically
diagnosed reality TV junkie and a lover of all things technological.
I'm lighthearted - getting lighter by the year, which is the one thing
I appreciate most about growing older. I love to laugh and do so as
often as I can. I'm a champion of the underdog. I tell it like it is.
My life is an open book and I treasure the lows just as much as the
highs. Life is beautiful, and scrapbooking allows me to put it all on a
page.
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