Young children cannot be relied upon for stellar memories. It’s quite hop-scotchy, what their little minds choose to keep, and what goes into storage as a mere feeling, buried deep in their subconscious, waiting to pulled out in 20 years by an overpaid psychotherapist. Unless you are a good therapist, in which I thank you for your assistance to mankind, and please don’t take offense.
I asked Sara what she remembered from last summer. She replied, “I remember you let me play in the rain in my Princess Dress.” True, that memory was true. And as far as I can tell, her only one. Maybe that’s for the best. My first few months at home with the girls were exceptionally trying times for me. She could have said, “I remember going to bed, and peering out my bedroom window to see you crying on the back porch and drinking something out of a bottle. Why weren’t you drinking coffee? Was that some kind of Kool-Aid?” That would have been equally true, and best forgotten, so good that it doesn’t come to mind.
I asked Sara what she remembered from her Max & Ruby birthday party last summer. She replied, “I remember after everyone left, you let me and Avery have an extra cupcake.” There was something so genuinely sweet about it. Equally sweet to the Princess dress in the rain story…and both brought tears to my eyes. How funny, the things they remember.
What will they possibly remember from this summer? Part of me cringes that 10 years from now they’ll say something like, “You taught us to eat watermelon ‘the real way’” (the messy-stuff-your-face-straight-into-the-wedge way). And I guess that wouldn’t be so horrible. Maybe they’ll only remember their crazy made up games of “Sweetheart & Grandma” and “Pretend I didn’t hear the phone, but then you’ll tell me the phone is ringing, and then I’ll say, “OH! I didn’t even hear the phone!”, and then I’ll answer the phone.” I’m SO NOT JOKING, they play that game EVERY DAY.
Or maybe they’ll remember that they named each other “Baby Sister”, “Sister”, and “Other Sister”. Don’t get any ideas about who is who. It changes by the hour. I’m however, always Momma Bear, or “Indentured Servant to The Sisters Three”, as I like to call myself.
I hope they’ll remember a few of our adventures. I hope they’ll each remember sitting on my lap as we sewed their pencil bags from The Creative Family. I’m hoping that before this week is over, we can play out my last adventure and use them. It will be my crowning glory, and I won’t mention it for fear it won’t happen. As for me, I’ll always always remember the three of them picking out their own colors of felted wool, and how tiny they looked as they bravely and proudly walked their short little bolts up to the cutting table, even little Kelly carrying her royal purple. I’ll remember how crazy excited they were when Kelly found the Hello Kitty ribbon, and how Aunt Jenny and I rolled our eyes with a very “Ugh. Of course. A cartoon character.”
We didn’t do any shopping this summer. A little thrifting, but by “a little”, I mean that one day when it rained. Again. We didn’t buy a bunch of “stuff” to add to our collection of “stuff”, while we ate restaurant food, looking at our bags of STUFF. No time anyway, even if we hadn’t been ragamuffin broke. That being said, I think my goal has been reached: we won’t remember being ragamuffin broke. My job of insulating the Sisters Three from the Summer of Stress and Recession-Challenges is complete. Only time will tell, but if I were a betting Momma Bear, I’d say they won’t remember any part of Daddies working to find work and the odd tempo of it all. If somewhere, deep within the recesses of their minds, a little voice whispers, “Even during times of stress, home is a good place to be”, then it will have been worth every last second.
Now, onto more positive thoughts: How ’bout next summer…I’m thinking THEATRE. YES? ARE YOU WITH ME?!!! Wait, before you get all “no way”, imagine a homemade curtain with stars, and a STAGE….yes….you’re feeling it, I can tell….”Iiffff my friends could see me now that little gang of mine…” OK, you’re right. No Sweet Charity. Maybe more, “I’m gonna wash that man right outa my hair…” No? Well heck folks, I’m not doing Shakespeare…..YET…