Tuesday, April 24, 2012

I hope they remember


When my children are grown and reminiscing about their childhood, I hope they don’t dwell on the arguments, the admonishments, or the bumps in the road.

I hope they remember the everyday things. The silly things. Li­­­­­­­­­ke when we’re sitting in a car, killing time, waiting for something or someone. How instead of getting lost in the mental fuzz of the radio, we played our game of making up stories about the people we see going by:

“That man is going to the mall to return a bra that he wore to a costume party.” - A real live example from Bumblebee this weekend, whispered (because the car window was open) through ebullient giggles about a rough looking dude, who was probably a member of a motorcycle gang.

Someday, when they’re sitting down to dinner with their own families, I hope they say, “Let’s play a game. My dad used to have us do this at the dinner table:  We’ll go around the table, and each person has to name a city in South America.” (That’s harder than it sounds – especially if you’re a moron when it comes to geography, like me.

I hope they remember how we value family in our home. And how much I appreciated that they gave up their play time this weekend to go visit their great-grandfather in the hospital, even though they don’t really know him all that well. (I asked The Boy and Bumblebee if they wanted to go. To my surprise, they both eagerly said yes, even though I'd made it clear that it would involve four hours in the car, and two hours in a quiet hospital. Their quick agreement to go made me gooey inside.) I hope they remember the smile on his stroke-ravaged face when I described the picture Bumblebee made for him:
*photo of a picture Bumblebee drew for Grandpa B:
 Untitled

I hope they have fond memories of reading with me long past their bedtimes because we just had to finish the chapter.  And maybe one day, they will ask me the name of a book we used to read together. Just like last week when I texted my mom to remind me the name of the gentle flower-smelling bull that she read to me all those years ago. (Ferdinand)

I hope they remember these good, happy, and light things instead of the long workdays and how their stressed out and sleep deprived Mama has a few too many grumpy moods lately.

1 comment:

Barb said...

Isn't that what we all hope for. I know I do.
I also love that you have documented so much of this for them (which is also why I blog).

Wouldn't it be amazing to be able to read what was happening in the life of your mother or grandmother way back when?