Bear with me—things are about to get nostalgic up in here.
First, let’s establish one thing right off the bat: I am addicted to iMovie. It’s a hobby (slash obsession) I’ve had for around three years now, and I don’t see my fervor waning any time soon. The thing is, I love putting life to music. I think if I could have a soundtrack chip implanted in my body so that a score was constantly following me around, swelling dramatically at various moments I would totally do it. I’m pretty sure I could find a way to make even a video of a hot dog in a microwave ooze with pathos and longing.
Admittedly, this penchant for music video creating is fueled mightily by the two tiny people who live in my house. First smiles? Totes captured and synced up to a happy tune. First steps? Add some Eye of the Tiger to that action! Big brother feeding little sister a bottle? Some Coldplay should work nicely on the heartstrings for that clip, methinks. It’s a little out of control, sure, but it’s also created a treasure trove of memories for our family that, I’m not gonna lie, I watch over and over again. And sometimes when I play them back (especially the ones Iwatch with a box of tissues at the ready), I realize how well they’ve captured the feelings I couldn’t seem to express adequately with words.
Case in point: Telling my kids they would soon have a brother or sister. I knew for weeks before letting them in on the secret and I felt like my heart would swell and burst every time I watched them play together—something they probably clued in on, since I kept scooping them both up and smothering them with kisses out of nowhere like a maniac. (Pregnancy makes me emotional, you guys. And my kids are bearing the brunt of that. See also: my husband.) I just couldn’t help think about how drastically their lives would be changing, my awesome twosome, the Super Duo.
Since Rosie was born, I’ve seen Noah blossom into an incredible big brother—patient and kind, painstaking and serious in his role of Life Lesson Imparter, unfailing in his encouragement. (“Good job, Rosie! You’re such a big girl!”)
I’ve also seen his frustration at learning to share his things (and his parents) with a girl who has a very strong will and 3-year-old needs that require a good bit of our time—time that was previously reserved exclusively for him. In a lot of ways, she is the yin to his yang, the forte to his piano, the black to his white. Their personalities are different in an infinite number of ways, but he loves her fiercely, and she loves him equally right back.
So how could I not capture the moment I told them their pair would soon become a threesome? I couldn’t not. It’s just my thing. And besides, nothing I could ever write about how that moment made me feel would do it justice. My kids, arm in arm in a chair, the looks on their faces, the brotherly squeeze from Noah to Rosie once the news sunk in, Rosie immediately picking up her baby doll to cradle her like an infant—I didn’t want to miss a thing. So I made sure I wouldn’t.
And then, of course, I set the whole thing to music.
