Thursday, February 4, 2010

Like an elephants...

That would be my memory.

I don't often forget things. Or conversations. Or peoples names.

Memories from my childhood are vivid.

I can remember FRIENDS episodes like it is nobodies business.

I could tell you stories from my teenage years that should be lost somewhere within the depths of my brain due to the copious amounts of alcohol involved but I remember all the silly and really dumb things I did.

I would not study for an exam in university and cram for two hours before and ace it.

I consider it one of my talents. Seriously...I do.

That is why I am a little bit saddened by a recent memory loss.

I blame sleep, or lack there of.

I was nursing J the other night and thinking about how he was getting so close to sitting up when it struck me that I couldn't remember the process with M.

Did I train M to sit? (Train? Should I have said that?) When exactly did he start? I know he was 7 months and sitting independently but how did we get to that point?

And when did he start picking things up on his own and feeding himself?

When did he start sleeping marginally better?

How did I wean him?

What was I doing when he started to walk?

Why didn't I document that time when he randomly counted to six just after his first birthday?

When did I stop giving a sh*t about what other parents thought?

I know I have two scrapbooks filled with M's milestones and J's well under way but it tugs at my heart a little that I have already forgot some of their little lives.

I can no longer scoff at those who say "I don't remember" because apparently you hit 36 and senility starts setting in.

I don't know, maybe it’s not as important as I think it should be.

Maybe pinpointing the exact moment an infant spews out his first sound isn't all that it is cracked up to be.

And are they going to care that I don't remember?

Probably not.

But their wives or partners might.

They might hold me in high enough regard to ask for my advice one day on how to wean, or treat cradle crap, or deal with teething.


Or they might think I'm an old bat who doesn't have a clue and is going to do it her way regardless.

Or they  might have a fabulous sister to get advice from.

Regardless, I just want to remember the teeny tiny moments that might not be very important the vast majority of the population, but they are to me.

Because when I sit back and think about it, it really is those small, teeny, tiny moments that put a smile on my face.

Those little memories make this parenting journey easier on the days when I just want to sit in a corner and pout.

And really, I want to maintain my slight superiority complex about my wicked awesome memory.

FYI, Jack ate Cheerios for the first time today, and used the pincher grasp to feed himself too.  That kid is genious!


  1. Congrats to your Cheerio-eating man!

    I know what you mean about forgetting. I do NOT have a good memory. I was stunned to find that when I gave birth to Miss M., nearly 4 years after the birth of Miss D., I had to consult books about stuff like teething, etc. that I'd learned once before. Nuts!

  2. Way to go Jack!

    I know what you mean. My memory used to be like a trap. Nothing would get out. The things I have stored in there pre-kids is still good. It's everything that has happened since then that I can't recall. My husband now says to me are you sure about that? It drives me nuts for him to question my memory! Oh well, another one we can chalk up to mommyhood!