creating memories

my mom sent me this article, and i think its a great idea, so i thought i'd share. aislyn is already saying funny stuff. today she put her tennis shoes on and told me:

"mommy, i'm goin to work".
i said, "where do you work?"
"with ian and liam".
"oh" i said, "well, what do you do for work?"
"play".
"wow, i'd love that job. well, be sure to bring me all the money you make so i can pay the mortgage".
"ok, mommy, here it is."

her hands were empty, but her mind certainly wasn't. i love make believe.

anyways, here's the article:

When we least expect it, kids say the most hilarious, touching and clever things. When my son Jesse was 3,I corrected him gently for saying for the umpteenth time "regot" instead of "forgot." My son looked at me as if he couldn't believe my ignorance and sighed. "Mom, regot means you regot again. Threegot means you regot three times. Forgot means you regot four times. I just regot."

As parents, we go crazy capturing memories of our children. Armed with cameras and camcorders, we stalk our kids like paparazzi. We scrapbook and save every piece of artwork. But we trust our memories to hold the gems our kids say. While we can't imagine forgetting our children's precious sayings—which offer a rare glimpse into their hearts and minds—we do. Unfortunately, most of us don't think to record these treasures.

For 12 years I struggled to keep journals for each of my children. This soon became another chore. But four years ago, I discovered an easier way to capture my kids' words. I began recording them on a beautiful calendar. Since the small boxes force me to be brief, I usually had time to jot down the words immediately. But I learned quickly if I wait until evening, those little gems often would be lost.

In six months' time, my calendar had dozens of entries. One evening, while everyone lingered around the supper table, I asked my family to listen to what I'd written. I read the first page. Then the second. No one wandered away! Instead, they leaned forward and shushed each other. And smiled and chuckled. And when I read Jesse's "regot" tidbit, they howled with laughter and asked me to read it again. As I reread this entry, Jesse stared with wide eyes from one smiling family member to another. His grin grew and grew, and his eyes sparkled. Before I could finish, he threw back his head and shrieked with laughter.

After that first reading, I knew I had a treasure. So I put a small notebook in my car and another in my purse so I can scribble down quotes almost anywhere. Then I transcribe them onto my calendar as soon as possible. I also began recording a few quips of my own, along with those of my husband and other family members and friends whose words have enriched our lives.

It wasn't long before my family started prompting me, "Mom, you should write that down," and asking, "Mom, can you read from the calendar?" We pack the calendars when we're planning our annual summer road trips. They're the perfect distraction when nerves are frayed and a brawl is imminent.

I take my calendars out two or three times a year when our family needs some closeness or when one of my children needs to be reminded how special he or she is. Recording a child's words is a wonderful way to say, "What you tell me is important and valued. I love being with you. I want to remember our special times together."

I'm careful about which entries I share, too. I don't read about any of my kids' faux pas until several months have passed, and I'm sure he or she won't feel laughed at.

I've also discovered my calendars have another wonderful benefit. On those worst of days, when my son busts loose with a tirade and I'm down to my last nonsevered nerve, I shut myself in my bedroom and snatch my calendar. I flip through the pages and begin reading. "Jesse, on his first day of kindergarten: 'I hate school. It's rules, rules, rules. I don't get any choices.'" At least it's not just me. He really does have a mind of his own, and that's not all bad.

And I read one more entry. "Jesse told me after I stubbed my toe: 'It's OK, sugar hon.'"

I close my journal and listen. It's quiet again. I take a deep breath and head for the door. I can do this! Thank goodness for those memories.