When you are the parent of young children, you feel like they will be innocent and needy and dependent on you for at least another fifty years. Of course you will remember all those mundane, silly moments, how they looked, and the cute things they said. I know this is true because I was once in your shoes. And the truth is, the moments go by slowly, but the years fly by; the four year old is replaced by a twenty-five year old adult, which of course, is wonderful (imagine the alternative?!). Wouldn't you love to go back again though, just for a few moments, and savor the essence of your sweet, young child? If you will invest an hour or two of writing, once a month, it will all be there for you to revisit someday. 

When my kids were small, I bought a simple, blank book for each of them. My goal was to put pen to paper and periodically, describe a slice of their lives as they grew up. Sadly, I only kept this up for a few years, but at least I have those years! In this day of social media, I know its so easy to just post a picture on instagram. Will you have that twenty years from now, to hold and savor and relish, when your child is an adult? There is something powerful about the simplicity of your descriptive words, hand written in a book about your beloved offspring, that overrides any form of technology. 

To provide further motivation, here are examples from each of my kids' books. Beyond painting a picture of each child's personality, these entries are a study in birth order, as well as a documentation of my evolution as a parent. I apologize in advance to my children, for the highly personal nature of this writing. Just reading these entries now, conjures up images in my heart, of your sweet, young selves, and makes my eyes fog with tears. God gave me just the kids I needed and gave each of you the flawed, human mother, who loves you more than life itself.

September 28, 1994

Dear Christopher: My New Year's resolution nine months ago was to start this book. I've known for some time that all those important things you do and say everyday will slowly dim in my memory and be lost forever, unless I commit them to paper. Being a parent is one of those jobs where you really do lose site of the forest for the trees. I want to remember you in all your innocence, one month shy of your fourth birthday. You have such a spark in you; you always were that way, even as an infant. You wake up thrilled every morning, that there is a whole new day ahead of you. You often say, "I'm SO excited!" Your enthusiasm and energy know no limits. I hope you always embrace life with such vigor. 

You have your dad's kind heart. You really identify with others' feelings. A month ago, you and I were going to have our first big adventure in the movie theater. We left Lauren with the babysitter and went to see The Lion King. Well, when the daddy lion gets killed in a stampede and the lion cub thinks it's his fault, you sobbed so loud we had to leave the theater. You were sure that you wanted to see the rest of the film, so we went back in. After exiting two more times, I said we would finish seeing it some other day and carried you sobbing all the way through the mall to the car. Your wife will love you someday for all your sensitivity. 

Its exciting to see your powers of deduction and reasoning developing. Last Sunday at church, someone had covered the front of the sanctuary with various colored balloons, to celebrate our new Sunday School material. You got so restless during the sermon (just like I used to at your age! I could never sit still either.) To distract you, I told you to count how many green ones there were. You counted ten. Now how many yellow balloons? You counted eight. This was good for at least five more minutes! How many red ones? You started counting, then looked at me and said, "You're tricking me, Mom."

April 18, 1995

You are 4 1/2 now - you will correct people if they say that you're 4! We've added a baby brother to our family: Derek is one month old. You adjusted quite well. You always tell me how nice our baby is and how much you like him. When people ask you who Derek looks like, you say, "he looks a little like Lauren and a lot like me and he is SO cute." :)

Last night our family was out for a walk and you said when you grow up, you want to be a farmer. Dad asked if he could come work on your farm. You thought for a bit and then said, "No, Dad. You're just a doctor." We love how you put things in perspective. 

November 18, 1996

Dear Lauren: (at 3 1/2 years) I could fill volumes about you! You bring out such intense emotions in me. With you, things are hot or cold; there is little room for adjustment or flexibility. I know that your strong personality traits will serve you well some day. Right now, I am trying so hard to train you well, so these "little problems" don't bloom into big ones down the road. Some days I feel so discouraged - that all I've done is butted heads with you all day. I try to be consistent. A lot of kids will put their toe over the line once or twice to make sure the parent will follow through with the consequence. Not you - seems like every day you call my bluff and every day we struggle with the same things: Will you cooperate with teeth brushing and hair combing? When you wake up from your nap will you go into a screaming fit if I say "hello" to you before you're ready? (And every time you do, you get carried back to your bedroom and have to stay there until you are willing to be pleasant). It wears me out. 

You are so beautiful and charming when you chose to be! Your preschool teacher, Mrs. Donna and your Sunday School teachers think you are quite fetching. You are so observant, too. Not a muscle twitch, a scent, or a candy wrapper rustle misses your attention. 

You have such a unique way of wording things. Here are a few samples of Lauren-isms. You were recalling a story Dad told you about his own growing up years. You said, "They had so very many children that the potato chips didn't last very long." Last month, we went tent camping on Chilhowee Mountain. We had all settled into our sleeping bags on that cold, dark night. Suddenly you sat up, and rather than admit you were a bit apprehensive about our surroundings, you said loudly, "Now nobody mind (or be scared); I am right here!" Last week, you didn't go to Wednesday evening Pioneers Club at church. You were so sorry to miss your class. For your bedtime prayer, you prayed, "Dear Jesus, help my friends at Pioneers Club so they don't miss me too much because I didn't go tonight."

April 29, 1997

Now you are four years old. Amazing! You told Mr. Jay Floyd, one of your Sunday School teachers, that now you can stay inside the lines when you color, since you are four. The other night, you didn't want to sleep by yourself. You said that you get so cold. I told you to pull the cover over yourself. You said, "No, I need to feel some skin, like yours or daddy's, to keep warm."

We had a tea party for your birthday. There were ten little girls here, in hats and dress up and gloves. It was too cute! We all sat in a circle on the floor and had an imaginary tea party. After more games, we ate in the dining room. We drank pink lemonade from dainty cups. We ate fancy sandwiches and cookies and fruit. The cake was covered with pink and purple flowers and had your little china tea set on top. For your gift, I filled a big box with dress up finds from the thrift stores: hats, gloves, dresses, night gowns, shoes, earrings, etc. You LOVED the dress up box!

You've stopped screaming when I comb your hair each morning (this was such a source of frustration for both of us!) After several mornings of cooperation, I asked you about it. You said now that you're four, you don't have to scream anymore. 

April 18, 1995

Dear Sweet Baby Derek! You are one month old already. I've been planning to start this book since the day you were born. Life is rather crazy at our house right now - quiet moments are hard to find. Christopher is 4 1/2 years, Lauren is almost 2 years, and you are newly hatched. You are such a cuddly baby and usually quite content. I love to bury my nose in the top of your head; smells like a piece of heaven. 

Sometimes I feel slighted because I don't have time to sit and hold you and talk to you like I'd like to. With three small children, there just never seems to be enough of me to go around. I hope I always remember how sweet your little face looks with its bright blue eyes and chubby cheeks. In two weeks, our family is moving to Chattanooga, TN. This has been a hard year for our family - coming to the decision to move. We want Dad to be in a work situation where he is around to see you and Christopher and Lauren grow up. 

June 6, 1996

This is the poop story. (Sorry DJ - hope this is more funny than embarassing. You were only one!) One morning, several weeks ago, I had put you in the tub to soak while I brushed Lauren's and Christopher's teeth. Suddenly, I heard "noises" from the tub. Sure enough, you had unloaded in the bath water. I got you out and got you cleaned up. Then I gave big brother duty to watch you in his bedroom while I scoured out the tub, bath toys, etc. Suddenly Christopher yelled from the next room, "He did it on my carpet!" Not only had you pooped on the carpet, but you had stepped in it and the cat was high-stepping around in it as well. By the time you were cleaned up and the carpet cleaned, I felt like I had been through a war. 

May 21, 1997

You are finally displaying some of the "terrible twos" behavior. You have been so easy going and compliant all along, I am glad you are being more assertive (even though it does make me weary sometimes). You say, "ME do it", quite often. The other evening, I said you couldn't play anymore because it was time to get ready for bed. You stuck your lower lip out and mustered up a good pout and muttered, "not fair."  

October 1, 1997

You are quite the singer, Derek. Every night, our whole family sits on the bed by the rocking chair and I take turns rocking each of you kids and we sing. Recently, during our bedtime routine, Christopher had requested the song, "Give me oil in my lamp, keep me burning." You thought for a minute and then you said, "Give me sugar in my bowl, keep me burning." We all howled. 

Enough of my walk down memory lane. What I want to do is motivate you, parent of young children, to buy a blank book, and to write one or two pages, once a month, describing your child. It will be such a gift for you (and them!) when they become adults. My dear friend, Sharon, is keeping a journal like this for her granddaughter! What a priceless treasure that will be someday. "Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart." -- William Wordsworth