Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom is exactly what it sounds like: a low-tech, high-effort, physical artifact designed to survive a world where your family’s history is currently trapped in a cloud server or a dead iPhone. It’s worth the work because it creates a permanent, analog record of who you are beyond "Mom," but it only works if you’re willing to treat the prompts as suggestions rather than a homework assignment.
TL;DR
Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom is a guided journal that helps mothers document their history through specific prompts about childhood, adulthood, and family life. It’s the perfect antidote to a digital-only childhood, offering a tactile legacy that won't be lost to a software update. If the prompts feel too "one-size-fits-all," pair it with the StoryCorps podcast for inspiration or check out The Book of Me for a slightly different vibe.
Everything your kid knows about your life before they existed is probably fragmented. It’s in a Facebook photo album you haven't looked at in three years, a group chat with your college friends, or a "Year in Review" slideshow that will eventually stop being supported by the OS.
Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom is the intentional parent’s way of opting out of that digital ephemeralness. There is something fundamentally different about your kid seeing your actual handwriting on a page. It carries a weight that a typed PDF or an Instagram Story doesn't. This book is a project, not a "quick win," and that’s why it’s valuable. It forces a slower pace and a deeper level of reflection than any app-based memory keeper.
The book is structured into sections covering early childhood, school years, adulthood, and motherhood. Some of it is gold; some of it is filler.
The Gold: Specificity and Context
The best prompts in this series are the ones that ask for sensory details or specific cultural snapshots. "What was your favorite song in high school?" or "What did your first kitchen smell like?" These are the details that actually humanize you to a kid who mostly sees you as the person who makes the lunches and reminds them to brush their teeth.
The Mid: The Generic Fillers
You’ll run into prompts that feel a bit like a 1950s sitcom script—questions about "your first beau" or very traditional family structures. If your life doesn't fit the "white picket fence" template, these prompts can feel alienating or just plain boring.
The Screenwise take: Don't be precious about the book. If a prompt doesn't apply to your life—maybe you didn't have a traditional relationship with your parents, or your path to motherhood was unconventional—cross it out. Write your own question. Use the space to tell the truth, not the version the book thinks you should have.
The biggest barrier to finishing a book like this is the blank page syndrome. If you’re staring at a prompt and feeling nothing, don't force it. Here’s how to handle the friction:
- The "Audio First" Method: If you’re stuck on a story, record yourself telling it on your phone first. Listen back, then jot down the highlights in the book.
- The Scrapbook Hybrid: If a prompt asks about your childhood home, don't just write about it—tape in a photo if you have one. The book is sturdier than a standard notebook, so it can handle a little extra bulk.
- The Shared Experience: If your kids are older (8+), let them pick the prompt for the week. It turns a solitary writing task into a conversation.
If you love the idea of Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom but want to round out the experience, consider these "analog-adjacent" options:
- For the Reluctant Writer: StoryCorps is the gold standard for oral history. Use their app to record a 20-minute interview with a relative, then use the journal to reflect on what you learned.
- For a Different Perspective: If this journal feels too "Mom-centric," The Book of Me offers a slightly more individualistic approach to autobiography.
- For the Whole Family: If you want to get the kids involved in the storytelling, Drawing Board can be a fun way to illustrate some of the stories you're writing down.
The "abandoned journal" is a trope for a reason. To actually get to the end of this book, you need a strategy that doesn't involve "finding time," because you won't.
- Set a "Low Bar" Goal: One prompt a week. That’s it. At that pace, you’ll finish the book in about a year, and the quality of your answers will be much higher than if you try to binge-write it over a weekend.
- Date Everything: Even if the book doesn't ask for it, put the date on every entry. Your perspective on your "life story" will change as you age; knowing when you wrote a specific memory adds another layer of history for your kids.
- Leave the "Cringe" In: Don't edit your life to make it look perfect. If you had a terrible haircut or made a questionable career move, write it down. Your kids will appreciate the honesty more than the curated version.
The hardest part of this book isn't the writing—it's the emotional labor. Some prompts might dig up stuff you haven't thought about in decades. If a section feels too heavy, skip it and come back later. This isn't a legal document; it's a gift. If it’s making you miserable, you’re doing it wrong.
Q: Is Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom worth it if I already post everything on social media? Yes. Social media is a curated feed for an audience; this is a private record for your family. Plus, platforms change and accounts get deleted. A physical book is "platform-agnostic" and permanent.
Q: What age is best to give this to my kids? While you should start writing it whenever you have the itch, the book lands best as a gift when kids hit their late teens or early twenties. That’s the age when they start realizing their parents are actual people with lives that existed before them.
Q: Is this book too religious or traditional? It leans traditional in its prompts (asking about "mother" and "father" and "marriage"), but it isn't overtly religious. It’s generic enough that you can easily adapt it to fit your specific family structure with a little bit of crossing-out and re-labeling.
Q: How does this compare to digital services like Storyworth? Storyworth is great for people who prefer typing and want the convenience of email prompts. Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom is for people who value the tactile, "one-of-a-kind" nature of a handwritten book. Both have their place, but the journal feels more like an heirloom.
Tell Me Your Life Story, Mom is a high-value investment in your family's future "digital-free" history. It requires more discipline than an app, but the payoff—a physical book filled with your thoughts and handwriting—is something no cloud subscription can replicate.
- For more ways to document family life, see our best apps for kids list for creative storytelling tools.
- If you're looking for books to read with your kids while you work on yours, check out our best books for kids list.
- Ask our chatbot for more analog family activity ideas
