A couple of weeks ago, I went to talk about blogging to my sister-in-law’s MOPS group in Portage, Michigan. I had started blogging because of a speaker I had heard at a MOPS meeting, making it especially sweet to prepare. I still remember the speaker talking about the value of writing about your experiences, either in a journal or in a blog, and I jumped in a few months later. In my very first blog post, I wrote,
So, I decided to start this blog to find that “circle of quiet” that I desperately need as I careen through life. I find it difficult to stop and reflect amidst stinky diapers, Dora movies, ironing, grading papers (you get the idea) but I want to. Honestly, I can’t imagine anyone wanting to read what I have to say, but at the very least, it is a lot cheaper than therapy.
And here’s my first “reflection”…
Yesterday, I was playing with the kids up in my daughter Madi’s room…just goofy stuff like dancing, reading books, and giggling. Madi wanted to “put me to bed”, so I climbed into her playhouse where she takes her naps and settled down for a minute. My son Parker proceeded to climb in and lay down right next to me with his head on my shoulder and started looking at a little board book. When he was finished, he got up, crawled out of the house, found another book, and came right back in and settled back down next to me. Wow, did I have a “love-ache” for my little buddy-cakes – I hardly dared to breathe so it would last as long as possible. Of course it passed, and he went on to other adventures, and I know there will be plenty of other “moments”…but this one particularly struck me…motherhood never disappoints…
I read the post at MOPS meeting and immediately teared up, not because it was the most significant memory ever, but because it captured the main reason why I blog. Time takes memories, strips them of their details, and pastes them into a giant disjointed decoupage collage. Writing, particularly in a blog format where I can’t just lose the scrap of paper or misplace the journal, allows me to go back and remember those moments. Bringing back a picture in my mind of the sight, sound, taste, and feel of being jammed into the playhouse with Parker snuggled in the crook of my arm? Yeah. It makes me cry. Pictures are great, but there is something deep and rich about the written word that can bring a memory to life.
Remembering this made me a little bit frustrated that I had not taken the time to write much the last couple of months. Life has been crazy busy, as usual, but my “A” priority task list was a little bit longer than usual, which means that everything on my “B” list just didn’t get done, including writing anything for me personally. I think too that when I am “in the thick”, I lose a little bit of my motivation, my umph, my creativity…not sure why.
But here I am…and I still don’t want to forget all those little moments from the last couple of months.
I don’t want to forget that Parker says “flike” for “like” and that he listens to Patch the Pirate Goes to the Jungle for hours, and that he covered the living room floor with newspaper and taped them together to make an “earth”. I don’t want to forget his intensity for getting things right, even if it means starting over again…and again. I don’t want to forget him running the bases at T-Ball, his helmet tipping over his eyes, or his “fruit soup” stand where he hung signs up and down the sidewalk for everyone to buy his smushed up fruit and applesauce. I don’t want to forget him staying with me at the art card tent, listening to Kevin’s puppet show at least four times, jumping around and doing the motions each time, and our sweet little “date” eating cookies and drinking milk on the side of the park.
I don’t want to forget Fiona’s obsession with playdough, how she rolls it up and hides it all over the house for me to find later. I don’t want to forget her love of tutus, insistence that she does her own hair, and that she wants to wear pajamas for naptime and put on a new outfit after she wakes up. I don’t want to forget all the nights I spent sleeping on the couch with her, and the weird feeling of being both relieved and a little sad when she started sleeping all night in her own bed. I want to remember how she constantly tries to touch my laptop screen to make it work, and her love of somersaults. I don’t want to forget how she wants to help me…with everything, loves to do puzzles, and has the loudest voice and laugh I have ever heard.
I don’t want to forget Madi’s half-read books lying all over the house, and that she emphatically says that she “loves creativity”. I don’t want to forget how she figured out how to do “power kicks” for soccer and seeing her dribble the ball up the field. I don’t want to forget her excitement for school and how she wrote a letter to the “new girl” at school on the first day. I don’t want to forget her sensitivity, and how she told her friends that they should be nice to a girl at recess even though she really didn’t want to play with her either. I don’t want to forget how she came to the ArtFest with me and sat and watched the juggler and magician all by herself. I don’t want to forget the heart-squeezing feeling of her growing up, and hearing those new questions like, “Mom, what is a crush?”
I don’t want to forget, and thankfully, blogging helps me remember.
