Why I decided to put down my camera and start watching my kids
My oldest son, Max, stood in the middle of the indoor playground, staring longingly at the slide. This wasn?t your normal, run-of-the-mill slide; it was a behemoth?a fast yellow monster with bumps and hills and screams emanating from its plastic body. I knew what Max was thinking. At three, my son wanted to conquer this slide. Like all the other three-year-olds, he wanted to climb up to the very top of the playground and have an adventure, but he was scared. This was how he?d been acting at the playground for months. My son?a calm, serious, cautious boy?wasn?t ready for the big slide yet, but he wanted to be.
And then it happened. He climbed up to the very top, took a deep breath and slid down. Instinctively, I dove for my phone, determined to capture the look on his face. This was the moment I had been waiting for. I had to document it. I had to share it and send it to all my friends. I had to turn it into my phone?s wallpaper. And in that mad dash, I missed it. I missed his first ride down a big-boy slide. I missed that look of pride on his face. I missed the very memory I had been trying so hard to preserve. It was in that moment that I decided to cool it with the pictures. I had a lot of pictures?my phone was filled with my two sons? faces. If they wore something cute, I had to have a photo. If they sang a song, I needed a video. My parents could barely pick up the boys without my phone in their faces.
Ever since becoming a mom, I?ve had this fe...
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