Sorting through my memories

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This past Sunday I spent my pondering time, which consists of me sitting with hubby (when he is around) on the veranda with a mug of something warm or a glass of something chilled and looking out at the garden. I spent that time, which I have set aside to think thoughts of gratitude (or get away from the tussle for the decoder remote controller) however you look at, stressing. Next Tuesday the card days begin.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids and all the lovely, not to mention crafty things they make me but after 15 years of receiving their homemade love-infused delights I am running out of room! I also refuse to be that mother who threw away her kids’ love letters (I have gotten those in the manner of “Mummy I love you, do you love me?” with the ‘yes’ or ‘no’ options marked out in bold) The first time I received one of those from my son – he was 8-years old – I phoned my social worker friend and she explained that he knows that I love him, but he was at that stage where love letters were being passed around in class and kids use what they know as inspiration.

I too, have decided to turn to what I know for inspiration. Our friends at The Furnishing Touch did a lovely post about integrating memories into the feel of your décor and design instead of keeping them in a pile or a drawer and cluttering the whole house. That way, not only does your space look better and feel de-cluttered but it also feels happier surrounded by mementos of love and filled with memories.

To start me off, I have put out the scrapbook of all the family firsts on the coffee table as light browsing. Would you believe that hubby and I took a photo on our first date? Bless that insistent old man with a camera! Of course my daughter has swore to never bring friends home again if the scrapbook stays on the lounge coffee table.

Here’s another project to add to my list (I am especially excited about this one) – Maybe, come Mother’s Day this year, the love letters I receive will have a nice wall collage to go onto.

A word of warning to my daughter who appears to have taken up sulking as a hobby: If said daughter keeps it up I will have that baby image of her lying on my lovely Sealy – with her muddy feet, hand and nappy – blown up and block mounted as the centrepiece of said collage.

 

 

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