The Sling Diaries, Volume VII. A photo-documentary chronicling the art of baby wearing in the lives of families around the world. Over the course of six months, Sling Diarists will create their own Sling Diary though a series of diary entries interpreting a unique theme given to them each month.
Meet all of our Sling Diarists here.
I spend my days trying to soak in every last bit of my boys. I want to remember every moment of every day with them. I know how unrealistic this sounds, but there is a part of me that hopes that I'll remember all the bits and pieces that are unique to them. Sometimes I hold them extra tight at the end of the day, just breathing them in, knowing that I’ll only be able to have these moments for a short time. That a few years from now, they’ll push me away for being the embarrassing mom that holds on to a hug for too long. I find myself looking at photos of them after they’ve gone to bed at night, almost as if I’m studying what they were like a day ago, month ago, a year ago, making sure that all their moments stay imprinted on my soul. I look at my sons, and at times I see my dad’s face in theirs. I see my husband in the way they move. I see my grandmothers eyes and the dimple that my father-in-law has passed down to half of his grandchildren.
Entering motherhood has been a reflective time, a time when I have been focused on remaining in the present, while also reminiscing about my childhood. I find myself getting caught up in the stuff — planning activities, trips, making sure the boys have all these experiences, that they live a full life. And I sometimes have to take a step back and remember that it’s not really about what we do or where we go, it’s more about surrounding them with love.
That’s what I hope they will remember. I hope they’ll hold on to the parts of our family that make us “us” — my terrible dancing and their dad’s impeccable taste in music. How we almost always have fresh flowers in the house and the feeling of excitement when our family visits. There are the pieces of my childhood, feelings that I hold on to - the smells, the touch, the sounds. Breathing in the smell of exotic spices - saffron, sumac, turmeric - on my dad's jacket and singing along to Cat Stevens greatest hits in the car with my mom and sister. Endless summers with my cousins playing lifeguards in the pool. The feeling of my grandmother's hands running through my hair.
It’s these flashes that make me smile from the inside. I wonder what my boys will take away from these years, what their flashes will be. I hope that they’ll take away moments of being silly with their cousins and having their grandparents love on them. I hope that they take away laughter, the kind of uncontrollable giggles that me, my mom, and James all share in common. I hope they remember how their Tía would give them her special “BAH” kisses or how NaNa would always sneak them surprises. I hope they somehow feel and know how much joy it brings to our lives to be their parents.