Today marked the first truly delightful spring day of the season, so I took my 3-year-old son, Lucas, to the park. He darted about with his tousled, dirty-blonde hair dancing in the breeze. He hopped from step to step, climbed the slide, collided with other children, paused at the top of the ladder, and then tumbled into my arms.
Meanwhile, I found myself obsessively snapping photos on my phone—about 50, to be precise. Something about today compelled me to document each fleeting moment.
My little boy, aged 3 years, 6 months, and 5 days, had hair at that perfect length, with a single stubborn strand falling into his eyes. He wore his brother’s old blue sweater, which was already starting to fit snugly, with a long green shirt peeking out underneath. I couldn’t help but notice how he spun around every minute or so, his large blue-green eyes searching for me, certain I was nearby yet unsure of my exact location.
It was imperative to me to capture everything, to freeze these moments in time. For our children, time feels slow. They exist fully in the present, every day stretching out like an eternity. For us parents, however, it seems to drag on during the challenging moments, yet we are all too aware of its rapid passage as we witness our children grow before our eyes.
I took countless photos to remember it all, to cling to these moments even as they began to fade. While not every day is this intense, I do find myself frequently photographing my kids, particularly during outings. At times, I question whether this habit comes at a cost. Am I truly engaging in these moments, or am I merely an observer behind the lens?
My father was a professional photographer who loved capturing my sister and me at various stages of our lives. I recall posing for him in front of towering Redwoods, at amusement parks, and on beach outings. Even in candid moments, he was there, clicking away, capturing the essence of our everyday experiences—he often claimed candid shots were his favorites.
At times, I found his enthusiasm a bit overwhelming, feeling scrutinized under the lens. Yet, I also felt cherished and valued. My dad would take breaks to engage with me; he was an attentive listener and a wonderful playmate.
Now, I’m incredibly grateful to have a treasure trove of beautiful photographs from my childhood, seen through my father’s eyes. Each image evokes powerful emotions, encapsulating the beauty of my upbringing, which was often tumultuous. They provide permanence to the impermanent nature of those days.
In this digital age, many of us find ourselves glued to our devices, recording and sharing every moment instead of simply experiencing life. Is my inclination to document my children’s lives problematic?
I’m uncertain, but I lean towards the belief that it isn’t. I like to think I can balance my penchant for photography with being present in the moment. I can indulge my obsession while also putting my phone away for those special experiences that truly matter.
As our morning at the park came to a close, Lucas wanted me to chase him. I relished the freedom of running after him without my phone in hand, feeling the wind whip through my hair as I pursued his gleeful figure across the playground. I was immersed in the experience rather than preoccupied with capturing it.
However, when we took a break to share a bottle of water, I felt the familiar urge to document his laughter and the adorable words spilling from his lips. I didn’t want to forget any of it, although I knew it would inevitably slip away—vanishing like a wisp of smoke.
After a solid 20 minutes of resisting the temptation, I finally retrieved my phone to snap a final picture of him in his stroller, munching on peanuts and crackers. In that moment, I thought to myself: Perhaps today is one of those days where I embrace being a bit annoying and overly zealous.
My children are the most precious gifts in my life, and as mothers, we are allowed to be a little quirky about it sometimes. I believe that one day, my kids will appreciate the countless photos I’ve taken, recognizing the beauty I saw in their everyday actions and the ordinary yet extraordinary moments of their childhood.
In conclusion, while it’s easy to get lost in the frenzy of capturing memories, it’s essential to strike a balance between documenting and living in the moment. Ultimately, the goal is to cherish those experiences, both through the lens and in our hearts.
Keyphrase: capturing memories of childhood
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