He Can Tell His Own Story

Much of the content of my writing surrounds my children, especially my son, Peanut. Prior to beginning a blog where I could share my stories about him, I took photographs, wrote stories on scraps of paper, and logged entries in his baby book so that I would remember his details. Even with visual and written chronicles of his time hear on Earth, I continue to question "where has the time gone?"

My stories of my son have evolved over these past 19 months. The first stories I have of Peanut are full of despair and frustration. He started life as a screaming newborn, whose cries I could not quiet. Those first stories were scraps of paper I kept detailing my diet, his naps, his crankiest times, and the colic tricks I had attempted that day. I spend my evenings, once Peanut was finally calmed and sleeping, pouring over my writings and looking for a pattern or an answer to why he continued to cry. An entire day would pass and I would realize that I had not eaten or showered. I had spent the entire day searching for calm in all the chaos.

As Peanut got older, the stories became joyfully less dramatic. As an infant, I was able to record his first smile. His first laugh was not because of one of my comedic performances, but from the ceiling fan. I recorded his other firsts, too, like when he rolled over, army crawled, really crawled, and pulled up on furniture. Our time was spent happily together playing, reading stories, and going for walks on beautiful days.

Once he reached the one year mark, I began blogging as a way to share my stories. I've told stories of his sure brilliance with fashion, his devil-like behavior at story time, the heart-wrenching goodbye to his morning nap, and his new! ability! to! climb!

Since adding a new member to our family, I have not shared his current stories as much as I would like. Time continues to escape me. These stories would tell of the hysterical laughing that I can elicit with just the promise of a tummy tickle. Now instead of being carried or walking on his own, he must RUN! And the best part of Peanut is his ability to communicate. Gone are the days where crying was his only means of communication. He can request what he wants for snack, tell me where it hurts, and say Mama. My own vocabulary has been tempered as he mimics, in full sentences, whatever he hears. He can now tell his own stories.

Even with all my stories, I am unable to grasp how we've come this far. No longer is he the grumpy, needy newborn. He has evolved into this wonderful, increasingly independent toddler that even I, his mother, sometimes barely recognizes. I do not know where the time has gone, but I will forever cherish my photographs and stories, my documentation of our time together. I'm especially eager to hear his stories.

This post is my attempt to crash the BlogHer conference by winning a two-day pass (a value of $200) from Parent Bloggers Network and Light Iris. I'm dying to meet so many of you and this is my only way to get there. "Where does my time go?" is the theme, so, hurry, hurry, you can enter too, BUT ONLY TODAY.