“You’re going to want to write it down. All of it.”
My friend, a mother herself, smiled knowingly as she presented the journal she’d fashioned from an old marble copybook. It bumped my pregnant belly as she handed it to me. Everything bumped my belly in my ninth month of pregnancy.
She turned out to be right. I spent hours hunched over that journal during my oldest son’s first year of life. When I flip through its pages now, it’s a testimonial both of his growth and of my transition–emotional and anxious–to mother. Is he OK? Am I OK? Am I doing any of this right?
When my second son was born, the journal was store bought and smaller in scale. The entries were just as fraught with emotion. They hinted at a growing maternal confidence. But they were documented much less frequently. He seems OK. Are we OK? Am I doing more right than wrong?
In the haze after my third son arrived, I scribbled down the details, “9lbs 2 oz, 23 ½ inches,” ripped the note off its pad and slapped it on top of his brothers’ journals on my nightstand. That’s the closest I came to a journal entry with him.
And, no. My fourth son didn’t even get the impersonal stats on a loose-leaf sheet.
Over time, I have accumulated a stack of sticky notes. Here is what they say:
“Paw-crits = paw-prints“
“Fun-quints = footprints”
“Ge-go = here you go”
“What o’clock is it = what time is it”
“Ya got crumbs = Do you need to shave”
“Leepeet = syrup”
“Lasterday = yesterday or any day before today”
All phrases coined by my kids at different ages. Journal-worthy. Indelible.
Individually, each captures a moment in time.
Together, it feels as though they are all that is left of my favorite years with my babies.
They belong in a journal.
Soon I will have one.
This is Childhood contains heartfelt essays about every year of the first decade of childhood. It provides writing prompts for those times when the words need some coaxing.
I finally took the time to write about my sweet third born. He was the inspiration for the book’s Age Six. I’m so proud to be a part of this collection and have my words sandwiched among those of so many beautiful writers.
This is Childhood is a perfect gift for Mother’s Day.
Somebody please tell my husband;-)
Because I still want to write it down. All of it.