Remember

Did you ever notice how quickly memories fade? Or maybe they don't for everyone, maybe it's just me. I'm not a big rememberer. Nate remembers so many stories and details and adventures about growing up. He and his sister and his parents can sit for hours and reminisce about this and that and remember the time..... It's not that I had a traumatic childhood that I am repressing or anything. Completely the opposite. I grew up in am amazing family, we had so many fun times. But I'm kind of sad that my brain won't remember the little details of daily life.

I know we had lemon lime wallpaper in the kitchen of our first house because it was there behind me in a yellowed photograph of preschooler me stirring a pot on the stove. I kind of remember the floor plan of that house, but you would think I would remember more since I was in third grade or so when we moved. For me it takes a photograph to stir up the memories. Last night, Camryn was begging to finish a school project. She is the star student next week so we needed to do the classic " all about her". She needed photos and I kept putting it off because 1. She kept asking at the most inopportune times and 2. I hate taking pictures out of the albums, they never seem to get back in there. Finally I gave in and we sat on the bed together and flipped through pages of years gone by. I got all sentimental because I had forgotten so many things. I had forgotten how delightful Caedmon was when he was 2 years old, how me made us laugh and laugh when he wiggled he rear end and declared "my butt's singing." I had forgotten how long Tyler's hair was when he was in 2nd grade and how his teacher lovingly teased him about it. I had forgotten about the time that Noelle took a shower with her kitten, Striped. That wet, scrawny cat looked so pathetic cowering in the corner of the shower, as far away from the water as possible. I had forgotten about Jack's raggety green snow suit that I had tried to sew all by myself, and about the chipmunk that the kids fed out of an upside down Frisbee on a camping trip. I had forgotten about the time we painted pumpkins. Oh my goodness, it was pure joy to look through those albums and to stir up memories that had been tucked away somewhere in the back of my mind.

So all of that to say, I want to remember the little things, the details of my kids' daily lives. I want to remember more than what is in the photo albums, I want to remember the mannerisms and funny words that they outgrow way too quickly, the things that I don't take pictures of. And because I want to remember them by writing them down here, you all have to read about them too. Sorry, but it's my blog.

This week I want to remember Gemma's newly learned shoulder shrug. Her little shoulders, bouncing up and down as she silently answers "I don't know" with a little grin. I want to remember the pathertic little pony tail she wears in an attempt by her mother to make her hair look a little more girlie and a little less like a toddler mullet. I want to remember how she answers "No" to every question, even when she means yes. You can only tell the difference by the inflection in her voice. I want to remember that when I take her out of her crib in the morning she rubs my cheek with one hand while she sucks her thumb.

I want to remember how Noelle and Camryn sleep together in the top bunk almost every night. Even though I hate it, I want to remember how they toss their backpacks on the bench by the front door and throw their coats on top, disregarding the row of hooks right in front of them.

I want to remember Tyler's never ending showers. How he uses up all the hot water single handedly, because I'm hoping he outgrows that one and that soon it will be nothing more than a memory. I want to remember his laugh while it's still the laugh of a boy, not the crack of an awkward voice change that's just around the corner. I want to remember how he waits just inside the front door for the bus every morning, peeking through the glass to see it come down the street. How he runs across the street to the bus stop in the freezing snow with no hat or mittens and an unzipped coat.

I want to remember the inquiring mind of a five year old, who has so many questions about everything. I want to remember the sparkle in Caedmon's eye when he grins his baby toothed grin. He and Jack carry their little stuffed Curious George's all around the house and imagine all sorts of curious scenarios, some involving dinosaurs, some involving stormtroopers. I want to remember how we had to keep everything even remotely sweet on the very top shelf of the pantry as to prevent Jack from cleaning us out of desserts and eating sugar right out of the bowl. I want to remember how he flew under the radar most nights during supper, eating only the least possible amount of his food and then held out until breakfast and ate two or three bowls of his favorite cereal.

I want to forget the drips on the toilet seat and the globs of toothpaste in the sink.