Syracuse Parent and CNY Family

Brittney Fiorini Jerred is an award-winning columnist and the editor of "Syracuse Parent." You can leave comments below. She may also be reached at editor@syracuseparent.net

Recording Milestones at the end of the day
Posted on Tue, March 27th, 2007
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When Mary was about 16 months old, I started to keep a journal of all the little and big things. I picked up a cute, sturdy notebook at the dollar store and challenged myself to jot something down each day. I started out strong, then, as the naps waned, the jotting-down sessions grew further apart. Still, I keep it near the recliner and, even if it’s a sentence or two, I try to write a little something at night.
Turns out, it’s one of the best things I ever did. A mother of older children encouraged me to start writing things down that my daughter says when she started talking. She told me her kids get a kick out of hearing what they said when they were younger. I’m so grateful for that idea. It has helped me remember all the milestones and it’s more reliable than my memory. I like to look back at the dates and think back to what else happened on that day, who else visited or, where we were living or what we did.
The one thing about being a parent, I’ve noticed, is that you can’t take it in all at once. You have to sort of breathe it in as it’s happening and hope you get enough air to your heart as you live through the milestones. I find the journal allows me to let some of that angst go that can accompany change. The journal reassures me that although the moment has passed, I’ve got a piece of it down on paper before my memory fades.
The journal is not filled with fancy prose or anything particularly profound, other than the date and what happened. Like the time she found the vaseline and “put makeup” all over her face and hair. (It was a large, full jar and a good two thirds of it was on her head. It took a week of washings to get the grease out.) I forgot that she came and told me, “Mama, wash hair now.”
On one page, I recount something funny and on another, I talk about people in her life. Some of those people have since died, so again, I’m glad I wrote what my grandmother looked like when she played in the kiddie pool with my daughter and how the sun shone through her white, wavy hair.
It’s a journal I hoped to give Mary one day. The prospect of handing it off one day was my motivation for starting it in the first place. However, the more I read through, the more I think it’ll be a book that stays at home, that she can read when she visits, like an old photo album. They’re memories that I think I’d have a hard time parting with:
Sept. 1, 2005
“Today your father and I took you to the State Fair. It was fun! You tried cotton candy for the first time. You petted a cows head. You didn’t know what to make of the cotton candy.” We both remember that day with wide smiles.
I think of these entries as snapshots I couldn’t or didn’t take. I can see them in my mind’s eye–some more vibrant than others.
I recorded the date she met her now “best friend.” Her name is Sarah, they have the same middle name and they’re four days apart in age. Her mom and I were friends in high school, and our dauggters have rekindled our old friendship. I didn’t know any of what would happen following Sept. 8, 2005, the day she met Sarah. I just knew they were fascinated each other as they sat in strollers, facing each other. I only hoped they’d know each other.
So, as her third birthday approaches, I find myself looking back at old pictures and journal entries to celebrate all we’ve learned. The journal also helps me to celebrate who I’ve become in the past four years and who we’ve become, as a family. I’m awfully glad I kept track.

Kaitlyn poses for her babysitter who took this image of her playing outside.