(Lack of) Memory
I will be the first to admit that I don't have a very good memory. I will start to tell people about a movie I saw in the theater and forget that it was them I went with to see it. I will realize a week late that I didn't pay a credit card bill. I will only remember the night before a holiday that I have the next day off.
Those things are certainly forgiveable. It seems less forgiveable to not remember things about Noah. I mean, I remember functional things, like his sizes, his weight, his last dentist appointment. I remember events, like his fourth birthday party and how he kept soiling himself because he didn't want to stop playing (that's going to be one to save for the future wife). I remember things that he loves (peanut butter, walks, Hot Wheels, bubble gum flavored medicine, trains) and things that he hates (bees, leaving the playground, raisins, the little green flecks in pasta). I know that I always need to comb his hair slowly, that the way to get him to shampoo well is to have him turn down his ears, and that he always wakes up faster if I put on a movie. (Among a million other things.)
Last night I looked at him. He'll be 5 at the end of the summer. I looked at him and I couldn't picture the child he had been when he had first come to live with me two and a half years ago. I couldn't remember what it was like to hold a boy less than 45 pounds. I couldn't remember how I tucked him into a crib instead of a bed. I couldn't remember what we played or did, how he was.
I remember how he cried the first few night he lived with me. How he wanted to go "home." How much I worked to get him to trust me. How small his clothes were. His booster seat. Sippy cups. I was so devastated. So full of love and at the same time so lost. Is that why I can't remember so much? I wonder if I was in a fog all that time. Or is there just too much to remember? Do they grow too quickly? Do parents keep their children's clothes to help them remember how small they once were? Maybe I shouldn't give them away.
The other night I had to buy him all new shoes - size 12! - because he had outgrown the ones he had. I tell him jokingly to stop growing, but sometimes I wonder how I will keep from crying all the time when he is 15, remembering what it was like to carry him sleeping when he was 4. But will I remember? Maybe it's better not to have a good memory about your children. Maybe the love you have for them in the moment is too overwhelming already.
Those things are certainly forgiveable. It seems less forgiveable to not remember things about Noah. I mean, I remember functional things, like his sizes, his weight, his last dentist appointment. I remember events, like his fourth birthday party and how he kept soiling himself because he didn't want to stop playing (that's going to be one to save for the future wife). I remember things that he loves (peanut butter, walks, Hot Wheels, bubble gum flavored medicine, trains) and things that he hates (bees, leaving the playground, raisins, the little green flecks in pasta). I know that I always need to comb his hair slowly, that the way to get him to shampoo well is to have him turn down his ears, and that he always wakes up faster if I put on a movie. (Among a million other things.)
Last night I looked at him. He'll be 5 at the end of the summer. I looked at him and I couldn't picture the child he had been when he had first come to live with me two and a half years ago. I couldn't remember what it was like to hold a boy less than 45 pounds. I couldn't remember how I tucked him into a crib instead of a bed. I couldn't remember what we played or did, how he was.
I remember how he cried the first few night he lived with me. How he wanted to go "home." How much I worked to get him to trust me. How small his clothes were. His booster seat. Sippy cups. I was so devastated. So full of love and at the same time so lost. Is that why I can't remember so much? I wonder if I was in a fog all that time. Or is there just too much to remember? Do they grow too quickly? Do parents keep their children's clothes to help them remember how small they once were? Maybe I shouldn't give them away.
The other night I had to buy him all new shoes - size 12! - because he had outgrown the ones he had. I tell him jokingly to stop growing, but sometimes I wonder how I will keep from crying all the time when he is 15, remembering what it was like to carry him sleeping when he was 4. But will I remember? Maybe it's better not to have a good memory about your children. Maybe the love you have for them in the moment is too overwhelming already.
posted by Auntie Mom @ 1:43 PM
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