I have this problem, I'm sure most moms can relate. Husband, kids & me go shopping, we go home with something for everyone... except me. It's my fault though, I'd rather spend money on him & them than on me.
So while we are at the mall last week we went to a jewelry store to see if we could find my wedding ring. I've been looking for it for over 10 years... long story, but I want the style back that we were married with, not this ugly anniversary band that I was forced to have. We found the ring... as close as we could anyway. Jason was ready to throw down the Discover card and get me a whole new solitaire and wedding band, but we can exchange the current band, so why not? Need the receipt, though. Went home, found the receipt. When we went to the mall Saturday - guess who forgot the receipt? Dumb me.
So we go in there anyway, because I made the comment that Jason got a new hat, the girls got stuff and I had nothing. Not whining at all, just stating a fact. (if you know me, you know this is true... I don't get bent out of shape if I don't get things for myself) Jason always says, it's my fault I don't get anything because I don't get myself anything. He doesn't say no to me, never has.
So, Jason insisted I was getting something. Again... he was ready to get me my wedding ring. Nope, I wanted the exchange deal.
He wouldn't let me leave empty handed. Isn't he just the best? 
So this is what I got......
Not huge, not expensive, because thats not who I am. It's simple, pretty and just right.
While picking out a new solitaire/wedding band that I didn't get, the salesperson AND Jason were trying to get me to upgrade my 1/4 carat solitaire to 1/2 or even 3/4.... no. It's huge, its too big... let me keep my 1/4 carat dammit!!!! Why do people think the most expensive makes the most happiness? 
When I was 7 years old, my mom died. No, I don't remember a lot about her and the memories I do have of her are no longer in motion picture view, they are in snapshot view. Meaning, the memories have faded enough that I only see "stills" of memories. I don't know if that makes any sense.
My mom was 46 when she died (young, yes, and a heavy smoker - she died of a heart attack, which is one of the reasons I NEEDED to quit smoking). One memory I have of her is her sitting in a lawn chair waiting for me as I got off the bus. I was in Kindergarten or 1st grade maybe? Maybe it was 2nd grade... she died the December I was in 2nd grade. I can see her sitting there in that lawn chair and I can see myself running across the front yard towards her, but the woman in the lawn chair isn't a 45 or 46 year old... she is a woman in her late teens/early 20s. And she's black & white. Why is that? Simple, yet complicated.
There are very few pictures that I have seen of my mom, the mom that I knew. Two or three maybe? I know what she looked like... dark brown short hair, a little heavy in the face... but can I picture it in my head? No. All of the pictures I have seen are when she was younger, and in black and white, so the mother in my memories has changed appearances. It strange, I know.
There are also only a handful of pictures of me growing up. There is one where I am about 6 months old, then another when I'm about a year, the next one I think I'm 4 or 5. My family wasn't a camera-happy family, I guess.
This is why, I believe, that I am obsessed with pictures. I take pictures of anything and everything. Maybe because I'm afraid I will forget things, I don't know. Maybe because I'm afraid that if I die, my girls will have a still picture memory of me and I want it to be a current still, not one from years ago.
My living room is filled with pictures... pictures of the girls in different stages of their lives, pictures of my nieces, nephews, friends, my pets... anything I can frame.
So because of this obsession the husband went out and bought me a Canon Rebel Digital camera a few years ago. This is way more camera that I will ever need, but I was thrilled to own one!
So every now & then I will take some off the wall picture... just because I can.
Everything is a potential picture... and every picture has beauty in it to someone.
Cheerios? Pretty boring, huh? But my daughter had Cheerios for breakfast this morning before school... not a scrapbook type memory, but it's still a memory. It's a memory of me being there to wake them up in the morning, get them ready for school, help them find the Tamagotchi that they lost the night before and promise them that if I find it during the day I will pause it so it won't die. (because this mom can't figure out how to feed it or clean it's poop up.) It's a memory of me being at the window as they walk down the sidewalk to the bus. Something simple as Cheerios can say a lot.
