Updated: Mar 31
I often wonder what my kids will remember when they think back on their childhood.
Will they remember when I opened the eye glitter upside down at 4 am before a dance competition and they learned a string of new expletive phrases? Or will they remember that I was always there, cheering them on as they performed their heart out in an activity I couldn’t even attempt at their age?
Will they remember when learning how to read was a struggle and we fought over homework and they cried, again? Or will they remember when I bought every letter-blending game off Amazon and I tried to make it fun? Will they remember that I was there and I kept trying?
Will they remember the nights I’m sitting working in my bed exhausted when they want my attention or the 80th snack of the day? Or will they remember that I decided to start my own business so at least I was there working in bed and not living outside of our home ¼ of the year?
Will they remember those mornings when we belt “we don’t talk about Bruno” at the top of our lungs while getting ready for school? Or will they remember the days I was tired and achy and short-tempered?
Will they remember the time I may have allowed - ok encouraged - the younger two to decorate their older sister’s room with turkey stickers since she thinks birds are the worst?
Will they remember the actual vacations, their dad meticulously planning out stops and routes for our road trips or being the first to purchase plane tickets the moment the date is released so that we can attempt to grab an affordable rate to fly five people somewhere warm and dip our toes in the ocean?
My suspicion is that they will remember some of that out of order and not quite accurately.
My hope is they remember the feeling, the feeling of giggling with their siblings and laughing with - ok, at - their slap-happy Mom who is singing at the top of her lungs getting all the words wrong at 7 am just to make them laugh.
I hope they will remember the enthusiasm their dad had showing them new places and finding sights that appeal to each of their interests.
I hope that they remember the love, the warmth, the pride their parents had as they watched them grow up, and the blessings we all celebrated together.
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