Pass It On . . .

I love the idea of passing down something that all my children will have shared in their infancy. The very thought satisfies my need for nostalgia, tradition and history.

Twelve years ago one of the Queen's dearest friends sewed a blessing gown for us from the same fabric she used to make my beloved wedding dress. My original plan was to have all my children blessed in that dress. Unfortunately, the Hubby put the kibosh on that idea after enduring only one blessing day with Big C in a dress - never mind that many an historical male figure have been blessed or christened in intricate, beautiful dresses. Thus, Hannie B wore the dress and RedDog did not. It has been made very clear to me that the son in my womb will also NOT wear the dress.

My next plan was to have all our children sleep in the same crib - the very crib the Hubby and I in our naive soon-to-be first time parent state agonized over purchasing and built together while managing to only have one fight. Alas, a month ago I assembled the crib by myself and promptly broke it upon finishing the job. Apparently five years in storage made some of the parts brittle and useless . . . my child bearing body can relate!

I'd love to pass on a cherished blanket, but as noted in a previous post, blankets become individual safe havens to my kids and cannot be shared.

So, now I am down to this - a classic sterling silver baby rattle that was a gift from dear family friends Mike and Eleanor upon the birth of Big C. This rattle has been dented by tiny but strong jaws and pock marked by new baby teeth. It has had the drool of all three of my children covering it. It is as fascinating to the kids today as it was when they were babies. They love to use it as a dumbbell when playing make believe with their multitudes of muscular stuffed animals.

Yesterday I commandeered the rattled, gave it a good shine and put it away for baby #4. Maybe when he's done with it I will have it framed. Or maybe it will go to a grandchild someday. All I know is that I'm deliriously happy that one more set of dimpled hands and rubber band wrists will grasp this metal rattle and joy in the noise it makes.