I was just thinking about my childhood today. (I am eversomuch older than 20)  What comes to mind first is my mom drying sheets out on the line, so I would have fresh sheets, especially when I was sick. Its still my favorite smell.  Now I am a mom myself trying to weave a tapestry of memories for my own kids, and trying desperately to will myself to remember every moment of thier lives, so I won't forget. That's called "marking",I've learned.

Because it would be impossible for us to remember everything. My daughter asked me yesterday if people run out of memory like computers do. No, I said. But we collect the ones that impact us the most. What do you remember?

I think of snuggling my kids in those footie jammies, and the smell of vinegar in thier toes when they took them off the next morning. (and little lint between thier piggies). As long as I live I will remember those stinky toes. What do you think of? A special blanket? the feeling of a certain holiday?  We as women have traditionally been the most avid creators of those kinds of memories for our families. We help shape the people our children become because of what makes them feel safe, or warm or just happy. They don't have to be life changing events, but they can change lives nonetheless.

My daughter, who is now fourteen and gorgeous, used to carry a potato around like a baby. Everyone always asked me why her armpits were dirty. "because she's a good mama" is what I'd say. My kids are growing up fast. My sons are 17 and 12 respectively. They remember dancing on my hips as little boys and doing the "tango" and drawing with those damn bathtub crayons, and how it took hours for me to get the red ones off the wall. Don't even get me started about making koolaid in the toilet! But would I rather forget those times? no, I just wish that then I hadn't cared so much about a messy house.

The other day I was cleaning my son's closet, the one who will be graduating in '06,godwilling, and I found this little red felt stuffed heart with those googly eyes on it. It was his heart buddy, I made them each one, and it was what they  used to hold when having "serious discussions"and we wanted them to listen with thier heart when they were tiny. (beats yelling, let me tell ya)  He must have had this thing for 15 years. He still knows what it is, and when I said "maybe we should save it for your kids someday" he said "NO! MINE!" and mockingly grabbing it away, rocked it in is arms. I have never felt more like I raised my kids right than I did that day. I have no doubt that someday, when he retells these stories to his own children, he will recall with fondness all the love we shared, all the fun we still have and how crazy his mama is. I also know he will tell his children that my house is made of gingerbread and revolves on chicken legs, and to behave at my house or i will eat them. How do I know this? Because I remember telling my kids the same thing about thier gram. Only for her, it was true.

EJ Whales,
Englewood Florida 2004

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