We can’t mark a milestone birthday in our house without some kind of visual tribute.
Over the years I have made birthday videos and slide shows, and if I’m being completely honest, spent way more hours putting them together than was probably normal. And this week as we prepare for son number two’s 21st birthday celebrations has proven no different.
Being a sentimental kind of person who loves photos and can never get enough of the old ones it’s the kind of project I love. Not least because of all the discoveries made every time of which I keep forgetting about.
Like how besotted I was with my two baby boys. Born just twelve months and three weeks apart, my days revolved around them and there was no more content and satisfied person in the universe. Even with that shocking DIY haircut I had at one stage. Why the actual fuck did I think I could cut my own hair?!
And that time I dressed up as Tinkerbell for fucks sake, to attend the fortieth birthday party of someone who had been a close and long time friend, only to have that night be the last time we saw each other.
And what a doll my baby girl was. Literally. She was my real life dress up doll, and so cute that even her brothers couldn’t resist.
And how much Mr 8-next-week has changed, being almost unrecognisable from his baby photos. He actually points to baby pics of his brothers and thinks it’s him. But being the baby by ten years and having being born firmly in the digital age there are probably four times more photos of him than of his siblings combined, of which probably half will never actually make it to being printed out.
And mostly how real we all were back then, in the days before Instagram and filters. Like, REAL, pimples and all. No trout pouts, no Anastasia’ed eyebrows, no 298 selfies to get the best one. Most of the time no makeup, no designer label clothes or “it” bags of the moment. You’d use up a roll of film, get it developed, and hope for the best.
A N D the best thing is that I get to do another one early next year when my daughter hits 18.
But the best thing in the world is when someone sends you old photos of yourself and other loved ones that you have never seen. When my grandmother passed away recently we all dug through lots of old photos, and this particular gem was sent to me by cousins.
Yes, the fat dungaree clad “boy” on the trike is yours truly. Little Miss Smiley pants in pink was the one to send it along.
Do you love old photos? Was it better when we took less of them?
I’d love to hear your thoughts.