Today marked the first truly stunning spring day this year, so I took my energetic 3-year-old, Max, to the park. As he dashed around, his tousled, sun-kissed hair danced in the gentle breeze. He leaped from one step to another, scaled the slide, collided with other kids, paused at the top of the ladder, and then tumbled into my waiting arms.
And there I was, glued to my phone, snapping away. I must’ve taken about 50 photos. There was something about today that made me feel an urgent need to capture every moment.
My little boy, precisely 3 years, 6 months, and 5 days old. His hair just the right length, with that one rebellious strand that always falls into his eyes. That blue sweater—hand-me-down from his older brother—already snug on him, with his long green shirt peeking out from underneath. And the way he spun around every minute, his bright blue-green eyes searching for me, knowing I was nearby but unsure exactly where.
I felt compelled to preserve it all.
For our children, time feels slow. They exist entirely in the present, and each day stretches into what feels like forever. For us parents, while some moments can feel endless—especially the challenging ones—we’re also painfully aware of how quickly our little ones grow up before our eyes.
So, I photographed him, hoping to hold onto these fleeting moments. While not every day sees me snapping photos so obsessively, I do find myself reaching for my camera often—especially during outings. Sometimes, I ponder whether this habit comes at a cost. If I’m constantly behind the lens, am I truly experiencing those moments with my kids?
My dad was an avid photographer when I was young, and his favorite subjects were my sister and me. I remember standing still for him in front of grand Redwoods, gripping my sister’s hand at amusement parks, and posing at the beach or museum—wherever we went, he had his camera ready. Even when I wasn’t posing, he’d be there, capturing candid moments that he adored.
At times, I found it a bit annoying. There was an intensity to it that felt like I was under a microscope, with every movement scrutinized. Yet, I also felt cherished and valued. My dad would often pause to play, listening and engaging with me as a good playmate should.
Now, I treasure the countless beautiful photos taken through my father’s eyes. Looking back at them often brings tears to my eyes; they encapsulate the beauty of my childhood, even amidst its challenges, granting permanence to the transient nature of the past.
In today’s digital era, many of us find ourselves glued to our phones, documenting and sharing every moment rather than simply living it. Is my tendency to chronicle my children’s lives problematic? I’m not entirely sure, but I lean towards no. I believe I can balance my passion for photography with being present in the moment.
Later in our playground adventure, Max wanted me to chase him. It felt liberating to run after him without my phone, feeling the wind through my hair as I chased his gleeful figure across the playground. I wasn’t preoccupied with capturing anything; I was simply there, living in the moment.
However, when we settled down to share a bottle of water, I felt that familiar urge to document—his laughter, the delightful words spilling from his mouth. I didn’t want to forget any of it, though I knew I couldn’t capture it all. Those moments would vanish—just like that.
After a solid 20 minutes of putting my phone aside, I finally pulled it out for one last shot of him in his stroller, munching on peanuts and crackers. I thought to myself: Maybe today is just one of those days when my enthusiasm for capturing memories might come off as a little excessive.
My children are the greatest joys of my life, and it’s perfectly okay for moms to be a bit quirky about it. I believe that one day, my kids will appreciate the countless pictures I’ve taken—the beauty I noticed in every little gesture, and the way I preserved those ordinary yet extraordinary moments of their childhoods.
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Summary
This reflective piece explores the delicate balance between capturing memories through photography and being present in the moment as a parent. The author shares personal anecdotes about her own childhood and her father’s photography, ultimately conveying the importance of cherishing both the experiences and the memories they create.
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