I'm pretty sure I've already said, the concept of boredom rarely, if ever, manifests in my life. I have endless projects to while away my idle time, when I'm not putting pen to paper. Some of these projects take longer than others and can run the gamut from scrapbooking, crafting home decor for various holidays, or even a good old-fashioned (if not entirely juvenile) session with a wide assortment of Crayolas and a coloring book. (Yes, the crayons have to be Crayola.)

The longest project I have ever undertaken recently came to completion and thus I write this anecdote, as I highly doubt any other will outlast its duration. I'm a big fan of unique gifts, and wanted to do something not just unique, but also one of a kind for my daughter's twenty-first birthday. Thankfully I didn't have to scramble to come up with an idea though, because I had decided back in her infancy what that gift would be.

Babies in particular go through clothes so rapidly during the natural progression of their growth that it's sometimes hard to keep up with them. While many moms and dads might hold onto some outgrown clothing as hand-me-downs for other children, or even retain a few special pieces as heirlooms for future grandchildren, keeping all the adorable clothes we would really like to hang onto tends to become impractical. Especially if the amount of storage space at hand is already limited.

Now, I don't know about you, but for me, tangible objects can hold memories and recall moments the same way photographs can--sometimes even better. Baby clothes in particular evoke not just holding that tiny newborn in their first hospital shirt, or snuggling them close in those cute onesies that only babies can wear, but all those milestones too! What was your child wearing when they took their first steps? How did they react the first time you brought them into a pool, wearing their first bathing suit? So many fun events occur, and there just isn't always a camera at hand, especially for moments like their facial expression when you carry them into the water and their lower body first feels that cold shock. (I mean, honestly, if you're juggling your phone with the camera open while wading into a pool with your infant, I hope you drop it...the phone not the infant.)

Such memories will likely not be triggered in your day-to-day life the more time passes by, but seeing an object linked to the event like the bathing suit your baby wore will bring it all back into focus in your mind's eye, and it's wonderful to relive those moments. This same principle applies beyond infancy and carries throughout the entirety of childhood. Random occasions, favored characters, even a preferred pattern all bring back different memories. My daughter, for example, loved horizontal stripes when she was little and one of her nicknames was "Monkey" which resulted in monkey-themed clothing. These trips down memory lane are not just for the parent either. Seeing such articles can have the same effect on a grown child. It's almost magical.

Imagine though, if you held onto all those clothes. Like I said, this is not exactly practical. So I decided a long time ago that I would repurpose these clothes into something new instead. Something that doesn't take up a ton of storage and could even be useful for the rest of her life. Starting with that first hospital shirt, I started collecting squares of fabric from her outgrown clothing. In the spirit of not being wasteful, I would use the rest of the garment to make doll and Barbie clothes for her to play with, but the squares were set aside. Once I had a few of those, I started stitching them together. That same first shirt from the hospital advising to "Please put me on my back to sleep" became the center, with other squares on all four sides and squares stitched to those squares. I don't own a sewing machine, so every stitch was done by hand. Working this way over the years, the end result was a one of a kind memory quilt.

My daughter knew that I had been working on this while she was growing up, but I don't think she though I would ever actually finish it. I backed it in fleece covered with flying pigs (her favorite animal) and gave it a border ruffle of stars to symbolically tie her childhood to a self-given appellation she gave herself in her teenage years. Twenty-one is such a transitory year in life, even more so than eighteen, I think. We become official adults, yet still recall vividly and even yearn for the simpler days of childhood. The quilt is a special reminder to always remain a child at heart, no matter how old she gets. It's a message she can certainly appreciate, and one I believe every adult should remind themselves of now and then.