Geez, why is it that times really does seem to have these enormous expanda wings that swoop down and gulp minutes only to spat them back out to us as months? Time doesn't fly. That's just not accurate. Time is this dragon that we do our best to tame. To keep well fed and comfortable. He lives in behind the outgrown clothes that have yet to be cleaned out of your kids' closets. He swishes his scaly tail vehemently with each tooth lost, with each Easter basket plump full only to be devoured & with every soccer trophy on the shelf covered in soft fuzzy plastered-to-the-plastic blankets of dust too.

I have vowed to honor the lanky legs from which were woven in my womb here in this space. Read more about this promise here. I realize that not one person really needs this portfolio of cyber growth wood etches of height in my childrens' lives. And that the blog world most certainly will rock right on without any weekly notifications of how my eyes paint the portrait of their childhood here in this space.

But I am not writing for popularity; I am writing to remember. I'm choosing to brush these strokes of motherhood here on this canvas as reminders that dragon taming is worth it. For me and for you.

He is in constant showmanship. Grabbing props out of thin air, this boy breathes story. I love so very much watching his creativity possess a very heartbeat. Costumes and mini-soldout versions of himself remind me time and again that our youngest is made to send out massive doses of energy. The kind that catapults people to increase in value and to smile wide for no other reason that to showcase their teeth.

Inward dwelling and always investigating, our oldest subsides inside his own skin best. Quality time is the golden coin he lodges there in his life pocket. Time with just one he trusts and equally protects, serves him well. Time allotted to ask questions and relay stories he has yet to settle on a best public delivery just yet. I will count these moments with him sacred as I know that my motherhood is meeting his very heart each time that I make the moments become what he most needs.

Words serve our Face well. He keeps them close by just like the one million accessories he loves to wear. He is masterful with the way they should best flow from his lips be it on paper or in person. Wooing you is his utmost desire should he count you worthy of belonging in his big ole love bucket. These words penned to me on Easter morning atop a church prayer card will forever be a source of both humor and glorious delight as my youngest serves others with his love language.

Growing.

The dragon breathes his fire at me now it seems more than ever. Flames of fast only to watch blue fiery embers of "how did yesterday become last year already" fall from our family's time here together on earth. My shield of memories recorded here and now and however will help me lure the scaly one out from under those clothes that have yet to be cleaned out. I hope your shield will too.

Are you keeping up with your children along with this blog series? Now is a perfect time to begin if you haven't already. 43 weeks are remaining in 2015. And 43 memories collected are just as special as 52 or ZERO. Simply post a capture of your child {ren} on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter along with a memory attached and be sure to use the hashtag: #fiftytwomovement. I would love to be a part of your celebration.

More articles in this #fiftymovement series:

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