Comments on: No Matter How Hard I Hold On, Time Passes Me By

By: Trish

Trish — Sat, 27 May 2006 04:08:40 +0000

That handpring thing brought tears to my eyes. I know what you mean – and it doesn’t stop. I’ve been wanting to grab hold of my kids (12 and 7) and never let go in the hopes that they might stay who they are. I know, I do want to them to grow. But I’ll miss the innocence.

ps. someone told me this past year that really, the innocence is always still there. If I look into myself, I can agree.

By: Joyous

Joyous — Fri, 26 May 2006 15:56:53 +0000

Quit that, I’m tearing up over here. My co-workers will wonder…

By: Ashley

Ashley — Fri, 26 May 2006 15:21:43 +0000

How sweet! It has really been an honor to play a part in Eli’s life thus far. Jonathan and I were just talking about that the other day. I was telling him how flattered I was that Eli calls me Nanny. I’m not sure anyone really understands how that makes me feel…it feels wonderful. And it saddens me to think that one day, when he’s older, he may prefer to call me by name instead of Nanny. So I am trying to enjoy it while I can. I only hope he treasures the memories of spending time with his Nanny the way I do.

Here’s to many more wonderful memories

By: Rachel

Rachel — Fri, 26 May 2006 13:56:51 +0000

Gosh Stephen… you almost make ME want to cry.

Darn the stoicism.

By: Pop

Pop — Fri, 26 May 2006 02:36:44 +0000

Welcome to one of the great joys and sorrows of fatherhood. There is another side to this story, though. I’ve heard from my own father’s mouth stories from my pre-memory days, and I’ve shared things with him that I’ve shared with no one else. As his mind goes, I realize that those pre-memory stories no longer exist, first-hand, in living memory, and that increasingly what we shared I now hold alone. So tell the stories; ingrain them well. Give them as long a life as possible. And carpe diem.

By: Geof F. Morris

Geof F. Morris — Fri, 26 May 2006 01:48:51 +0000

I think my favorite variant of the hiding-under-the-crib game is when he’ll get under there and then ask the room, “Where Eli go?” Same with him hiding in his closet.

[Yep, another entry that makes me all weepy. :sniffle:]

By: Mark J Musante

Mark J Musante — Fri, 26 May 2006 01:44:40 +0000

When Samantha was 2 and the ground became covered with white, she learned that the name of three large snowballs stacked up was “prosty no-man”.

That winter, I had her say it as many times as I could get her to, knowing that, by the following winter, she’d say “frosty the snowman” instead.

The memory is there, burned in over the course of three months. Although she knows frosty’s name now, I can still close my eyes and picture her, hearing her say “prosty no-man” again. It is an incredible treasure to have, and I’m grateful for it.