I always tried to keep a diary growing up so I’d have those priceless memories and be able to accurately write a memoir of how I grew to become the world famous…yeah.  And instead it was probably full of  “I like Steve Weber, he’s so cute…but Richie Salchunas is so fun.  And he’s cute too, even if he’s a ginger with freckles”.  And trying out my “Mrs Weber, Mrs Salchunas” all over the covers.  Meanwhile, they probably didn’t notice me once I went out for a “Twiggy” haircut” and came back as a boy.  If ever.

Once I became Mom, I really meant to write down all those special mom moments in a book.  I got the baby book for #1 son.  Dutifully recorded firsts.  Solid food (walked in on my mom stuffing mashed bananas into his 2 week old mouth), first tooth (at 3 weeks of age. NOT funny!).  First “meal” out…Uncle Nelson took my 3 month old baby out for a walk, and fed him  “white chocolate macadamia nut ice cream” at Emack & Bolio’s. Seriously.  It’s great ice cream, and all, but it’s not baby food.  Anyway…somehow things got hectic, and the years between “baby’s first” and puberty disappeared in a blur.  I scribbled notes on scraps of paper to remind myself of the things the kids would ask about later. They’re here somewhere…

Then, in 1999, I started to write them in a real journal.  I bought a book of about 100 blank pages.  Even labeled it “journal #1″.  So ambitious!  I wrote a lengthy entry, then set it aside.  A few months later, I did the same.  I found it again today.  There were a total of 8 entries, the book is still half empty.  My final entry was in June of 2004.  I wrote that shortly after loosing both of my parents to cancer.  It looks like at least 6-8 pages in that entry.  I’m not going to read it right now.  It promises to be a difficult read when I get around to it.  In the meantime, I read the first 2 entries.  I am soooo glad that I wrote them.  In the midst of all the unimportant stuff, I wrote down something that I’d clean forgotten.

My daughter Syd, was a handful.  No need to write that…there are many people with tales to tell about my wild child.  What I’d forgotten, was how at 3-4 years of age, in the midst of her own personal cyclone, she had a way of communicating that was uniquely Syd.  If she needed something, instead of asking directly, she wanted it to be offered.  She would stop what she was doing and come to me, placing a hand on each side of my face, and request ” Please say ‘Let’s have a snack, sweetheart’”.  Or it would be “Tell me ‘Would you like to paint the fence, honey?’”.  Oh Syd! Always, always, you gave me my lines.  And they would always end with terms of endearment.  You reminded me that, even though you seemed to be fearless at times, you wanted mothering.

Who knew that a 3 year old could have such wisdom?  Why don’t we just give people their script?  Why do we wait endlessly for them to say the words we want to hear?  There’s a message in there for me.   Maybe tonight I’ll try telling my Grumpy “tell me ‘you’ve done enough, put your feet up and have some wine, dear’”.  Or, “please say ‘you know honey, you should treat yourself more often. Why don’t you go get a pedicure?’”.  Do you hear me Grumpy???

Random photo of Syd today- no longer on a leash, but still going at full speed ahead.