I don't know about you, but I love my kitchen door jamb. Always have since becoming a mom. It's perfect for keeping track of my children's heights over the years. Sure, I had a Peter Rabbit Growth Chart, and a Veggie Tales chart, but nothing is like the door jamb. Granted, I can't just remove the frame when I move, taking it with me, but it my children never outgrow the door - or they haven't yet.
I just know that Brown Eyed Girl is going to give me grief for this. Look at this picture! What a scribbley mess! That M at the bottom is Maybelline, right after we moved in, at 5'6". Her mark hasn't budged in the last year. Then there's O for Oatmeal Head, at what looks like 5'7"-ish. I was complaining, about then, that he needed to stop growing. Partly because I'm 5'8", partly because I get tired of buying the boy pants. This isn't Florida, where he could wear his long shorts through several growth spurts. That first mark was a year ago this coming Sunday.
Above that is Oatmeal Head in May, two months later, at 5'8". Officially as tall as his mother, and 13 years old for only two weeks then. If you look, I marked and marked all summer and fall - probably every time I ran out to Ross to buy another two pair of four dollar camouflage pants - until two weeks prior to Christmas, when he came in at just under 5'11".
Tonight the Hunny and I were in the kitchen when Oatmeal Head walked in, all showered and looking for someone to bug - the boy has a perpetual grin - and grabbed the tape measure from the junk drawer. I had a pencil in hand, so I had him back up to the door. What a relief to find that my eyes do NOT deceive me! No need for new pants! Hallelujah! He's still only 13, and still just under 5'11"!!!
The Hunny was looking at the scribbley mess of a door, looking at all our heights, when Oatmeal Head says, "I'm the tallest one, except for Dad." pointing to the highest mark on the wall. See it? See the highest mark? I did my best to get a clear picture of it, but it's hard to read. It doesn't belong to any of us.
See, here's something that some of you already know about me: I'm very much a can't-see-the-forest-for-the-trees person. Which is to say, I only see what's directly in front of me, and only if I'm looking for it. NOT VERY OBSERVANT. I step over things because ... well, if they're on the floor, they must belong there. Right? The sock on the floor - it's there for a reason. It is not up to me to question why. Alright, I've learned to pick up socks. Sometimes. Occasionally. It's hard work for me to recognize that things aren't where they belong. Drives the Hunny abso-freakin'-lutely nuts.
Another thing you probably DON'T know about me is that I tend to be a little sentimental in general, in somewhat queer ways. The people who lived here before we did, who rented this house before the bank foreclosed (we got a great deal), left the marks of their own children's growth. I don't think that I am the one who scribbled some of them out. I would have just painted over them at the beginning if I'd wanted to be rid of them - brushed some Kilz over them. But I left them. I know those people will never come back here. They certainly won't ask for the door frame. I truly hope that someone in the family recorded their growth spurts in a book before they left. But I couldn't bring myself to cover the record of someone's family, even if it's growth measured in feet and inches.
So way up there at the top of the door is not the Hunny, but Bob. Bob. Who the heck is Bob? He's about 6'2", whoever he is. And it was amusing to hear Hunny and Oatmeal Head laughing about poor Bob. What's not so funny is that Oatmeal Head will likely be taller than Bob before we move out of this house. Let's see ... how many pair of camouflage pants do you think I'll have to buy by then?
Until I write again ...