I’m scrapbooking.
Telling you this feels like I’m confessing that I still suck my thumb under the cover of night. Which I don’t. Unless highly stressed. But still… I feel like I’m betraying my childhood covenant to "Tom-boy-ish-ness". Scrapbooking seems so wrong; so feminent; so, so, so … crafty.
But I have a nephew and now a niece. And they have scrapbook-worthy faces. Their pictures scream for blue matte layouts and adorable phrases like "Cute as a button" and "Little Princess". (the latter is for Morgan, my niece, in case you were wondering.)
I’ve finished a short baby book for Morgan and am beginning the same for Blake. I was able to organize all my pictures today by date to ease the process. Now I just have to spend ridiculous amounts of money on cute little stickers, pretty paper and tools that make you look like you really know what you’re doing.
Here is a little sample from Morgan’s book:
I will wake up in the morning (or later this morning seeing how it is 12:30 am right now) and wonder if I really confessed such things to the general population or whether it was a dream. And this post will confirm it for me. I am no longer a closet scrapbooker. I will not, however, carry a bag around with pictures of Blake and Morgan making up the design or hang a colorful flag outside my door for every possible season and holiday that exists. There are some lines I shall not cross and if I do, as my friends, please force me to seek help.
This weekend I’m headed to Crossover in Camdenton with some youth. Great line-up of Christian bands. I am suppose to take some pictures for possible publication so I’m excited about that. Photography is hobby I can claim with great pride. Especially since I recently received a very, very nice 35 mm camera as a gift to develop my photo skills. Let’s just hope that in the middle of taking pictures I don’t subconsciously create in my mind a page layout for a scrapbook.
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