In The Blink of An Eye

As of Memorial Day 2011 I have a 9-year-old.

Holy cow.

This is the last year that my oldest son, Addison, will turn a single digit. Next year he’ll hit the big 1-0.

The scary thing for me right now is that I clearly remember being "10."

I remember the camaraderie I felt with my softball teammates, the fun I had at summer camp, the invigorating feeling of the cold crick water as I searched for crayfish, and the arguments I had with my parents about getting my ears pierced.

I could never have imagined being a parent at that age, but here I am with a 9-year-old who’s doing many of the same things. He plays baseball, builds tree forts, loves cub scouts, enjoys playing kickball and going to the community pool, just as I used to at his age.

Thinking back to when I was 9, I can recall those memories. Yet, when I think back to the days of my pregnancy with Addison, the four long months of bed rest I endured, the first sweet years of his precious life, and his first days of school, I find it difficult to remember the ‘little’ things.

How is it possible that I can remember so much from when I was a young girl, but so little when my own son was a toddler?

It was probably because I was drowning in the newness of motherhood.

I’ve always been sentimental. At the age of 7, I started writing in a diary. Something inside of me wanted to document the special moments in my days. As I entered junior high, diaries gave way to more detailed journals. I spilled my heart into those pages, as I endured struggles with parents, boyfriends, co-workers and friends. It was my escape. It was also my history in the making.

What I didn’t realize was that it was setting the stage for something very important. My love of journaling motivated me to keep very detailed logs of my boys’ lives from the time they were in utero.

I thought it would be important to document every first, every developmental milestone, and every funny thing each child did or said. I’d write about places we’d been, things we had eaten, and interactions between brothers and others.

It was like brushing my teeth. Every night, just before I’d turn off the light and lay my head on the pillow, I would pull out my “Addison Journal” and my “Weston Journal” and document the little things that happened that day.

Yes, it was work and it took some commitment, but now that I look back, it’s one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Here are a few of the memories I’ve recorded that I would never have remembered otherwise:

• I love how Addison cuddles up like a little frog when he sleeps on my chest.  – 3 months.

• I love how carefully Addison picks up his Cheerios one by one before he eats them. – 9 months

• I love when Addison points to things and says “Wass-ah?” (what's that?)       – 12 months

• It’s so cute when Addison brushes his hands together when he has finished a task like picking up his toys. – 17 months

• Quote of the Day - “Dad! Don’t go through other people’s trash. The trash men will do it!” Addison - age 3 (My husband occasionally likes to dumpster dive for old electronics and other science supplies for his classroom.)

• When Addison was 3, when I’d tell him I loved him, he’d respond in a goofy way by saying, “I silly love you.”

• A moment of frustration – at age 4 Addison dropped something on the floor, and I told him to be a little more careful. He responded with, “Just stop that you stinkin’ rat.” It shocked me, but it was kind of funny too. Where on earth did he come up with THAT phrase?

• Addison exclaimed Thanksgiving 2005 to be the “Best Thanksgiving Ever!” When I asked why, he said, “Because there’s fruit salad, and I LOVE fruit salad!”

Every one of those memories would have been forgotten had I not jotted them down. I took those words to heart when people told me to cherish the special moments.

I wanted nothing more than to have children, and I could already tell the days were passing by too quickly. Taking time to write those things down each day seemed to help capture every fleeting moment as best I could.

This year, as we celebrate our Addison’s last single-digit birthday, I’m so happy to know that regardless of memory loss, regardless of old age, I will have a full history of my boys’ lives.

And I will continue to document their successes, failures, and unique moments as they grow older.

Not only will it be a treasure for me to reflect upon, it will also be a valued piece of history for my sons’ wives and children, and maybe even grandchildren as the generations grow.

If you are a parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle, consider doing the same.  Even if it’s just once a week, sit down and reflect on the precious moments you’ve shared with your young family members. If you know someone who is having a baby, buy mom-to-be a journal.

It’s one of the most invaluable gifts you could offer.