Freeze Frame

Over the last few weeks, Jack has taken on the arduous task of converting our home videos from tape to DVD.

The first conversions are almost entirely of LJ, beginning with when he was seven weeks old. And then seven weeks and one day old ... and then seven weeks and three days old ... and then seven weeks and six days old.

You get the gist.

The first year of LJ's life was marked by nearly as much video footage as dirty diapers.

We filmed everything ... and to us, everything was a milestone. First time reaching; first time grabbing; first time eating solids; first time eating peas; first time eating carrots; first time eating bananas; first time rolling over on his back; first time rolling over on his belly; first time pushing up; first time opening a drawer. Yes, opening a drawer.

You name, we taped it.

Every single moment was equally exciting to us as new parents. And tonight, as I watched those videos eight years removed from LJ's infancy, I found myself surprised at the genuine delight I had in each of these milestones -- no matter how small.

Somewhere along the line ... sometime after LJ's first step on Halloween night in 2001 ... I've become caught up in the finish line instead the starting block. We've gotten so busy with homework, chess lessons, basketball practice, soccer games, art classes, and playdates, that I only focus on getting in done instead of soaking it up.

So, while I cannot possibly commit to making any more New Year's resolutions, I can at least make a mental note to live a little more in "the now."

When Julianna gets upset about something and can't seem to let it go, I frequently say to her, "Honey, you have to be bigger than the moment and just move on."

But maybe that's not really the best advice. Maybe Julianna has it right after all. As a child, each moment really IS that big.

And I've got the videos to prove it.