Memorializing life brings me some strange comfort. Ever since I was a little girl, I had a compulsion to write down even the most mundane details of life so that there was proof that it happened if I ever needed to look back.

I didn’t want to lose moments. I sensed how fleeting everything was. I was and am super sentimental. Pictures of my kids mean everything to me. I can hardly throw away y’alls’ Christmas cards if there are pictures of your families on them. Last year, I told Kevin that I threw them out but he found them in the bottom of my sock/underwear drawer.

I admit I am lazy about cooking and cleaning but when it comes to taking pictures or staying connected with friends (though it is getting harder), I am diligent.

In elementary school, I would write down what percentage of my day was Happy and what percentage was Sad. Sometimes, I would start new journals with a physical description of one Jihee Lee lest I ever suffered from full-blown amnesia and had no idea who I was.

As an adult, I don’t get to indulge as much, but I still try to do brief “time capsules” like “Hurricane Irene Hardly Strikes,” “33 Miners Rescued while I was 33 weeks pregnant,” “March Madness Begins,” or even about friends’ milestones like “J’s first car” or “Dr. J’s Match Day!” In the era of Facebook with quickie records via status updates, I hardly old-skool journal any more but I miss it.

Sometimes, when life got too frantic or swallowed me up, I would fret that I didn’t get to record more and the husband would reassure me, “If there’s anything you need to beat yourself up over, it’s NOT that you didn’t do more memorializing. Uh, trust me.” (Those double negatives are confusing to read while Micah is getting comforted with an extra episode of Little Einsteins and baby bro is entertaining himself in his crib after waking up moments ago. I’m gonna have to go fetch him right quick.)

Today is 11.12.13. That is too fwine of a date to go without at least a mini-memorial. I haven’t been able to write REAL posts lately but here is a brief time capsule of this special date:

First time driving since that car/driver struck me two Mondays ago.

First snow of the year (I think?). Micah and I took turns catching the falling snow on our walk over to our parking spot.

“Mommy, the snow won’t let me catch it in my hands!”

“Because it’s falling on your nose, Micah!”

“Mommy, it’s on your eyes now!” He had so much fun he didn’t want to get into the car.

First time getting That Call from school. Had to go pick up a suddenly sick Micah after we had been fussing over sicky baby bro this past weekend.

Second son walking so wobblingly (?) from couch to the safe haven of my bressessess, exactly like his ever-cautious brother at this age. They are so opposite but so similar in this way of not yet walking at 13 months because they not tryna faceplant. Memories of Micah trying out his first wobbles, walking from Daddy to Uncle AO while some football game was on in the background.

Getting to discuss love and forgiveness and being countercultural with some women.

Tonight will be snuggling with my Sick and Less Sick little boys while their dad is at the first of his office holiday parties. They will be coughing directly into my nostrils and open mouth and wiping Beethoven-like slobber all over my already crusty shirt while I chase them with Kleenex boxes, but I’m ready for it again. Daddy desperately deserves a break after taking extra good care of all of us. Some symptoms of depression reared their ugly heads after that driver didn’t see me. I don’t even like to call it a car accident as two cars were not involved. Just one car and my body.

11.12.13. Consider yourself memorialized.