"Memory ... is the diary that we all carry about with us." — Oscar Wilde

In the corner of my boys' closet are two paper shopping bags — each filled to overflowing with the tiny garments of years now gone by. There you will find the most beloved of the baby clothing. The striped onesie immortalized by innumerable photographs, the "Kiss Me I'm Irish" t-shirt that made my friend burst into laughter when she saw my bigger boy Jonah wearing it as a 3 month old with a cheek to cheek grin, the "I love my Mommy" sleeper suit. I've compiled these precious items with the intention of having them made into a keepsake quilt. On each, I plan to have embroidered a memorable word/quote from each of my children. A long while ago my husband and I decided that on Jonah's quilt we would inscribe the word, "baku." It was Jonah's very special way of saying "thank you" for what — at that time — seemed like a long time. His use of that kind of language is a distant memory now as he marches briskly and boldly through his fifth year.  

Lying in bed the other night I was ruminating about these two bags of clothing and the mountain of other baby and toddler accouterments in Jonah and Adrian's closet. Questions swirled around my hazy, half-sleeping mind about where these baby items should next live and whether or not they might get any further use in our home. I was wondering if keeping them nearby would keep my boys little any longer. I was wondering and ruminating and suddenly I was pondering the quotes to be embroidered and I realized that I couldn't remember the quote I had chosen for Adrian's blanket. I thought and I thought and I couldn't remember it. Adrian — as a baby — suddenly seemed like another lifetime ago. All I could see in my mind's eye was his confident, vivacious three-year-old self standing before me with his chocolatey eyes and the tilt of his head — looking at me in wonder. I nearly sat upright in bed. I was wide awake now. I kept flashing in my mind to the little, blue 5 year, one-line-a-day memory book now tucked away on an overflowing bookshelf. At one time, I had been so diligent in filling this little book with the precious lines, the exquisite moments of my life — of my so full, so fun, so frustrating, so funny, so fulfilling life with my two little boys. And now it has gone empty for months and months. We have been so busy living. We have been so busy living, I thought, as I sunk back into my sheets somewhat relieved.

The quote on Adrian's quilt will be "Deet-Deet." It was his very own phrase for nursing and he sung it out joyously so very many times. I remember now. How could I have forgotten? He still says it sometimes. He thinks it is funny, now. I hope it doesn't embarrass him too much in the years to come. When it does, I will tuck his blanket away for safekeeping and relish in the memory of this unforgettable time.