My Earliest Memory
Earlier today I was visiting Sarah Lane's blog, and she had a short post about her earliest memory. I've been thinking about her post and the comments that went along with it all day.
I wonder what someone's first memory says about them, if anything. I also now have lots of fresh, new territory to worry about as a mom.
Here's Sarah's:
When I was 2 years old, both of my parents worked full-time and during business hours I went to daycare. It was a place in Santa Cruz called TAM School, where "TAM" stood for Teen Age Mothers, even though my mom was 33 years old. Who knows.
I remember laying on a cot in a dark room with a bunch of other kids, not sleeping. Not upset, just laying there with my eyes open. Some time later, my mom comes to pick me up and as we're getting my things together to go home, the person in charge says to her, "Sarah didn't take a nap today." To which my mom replies with a sigh, "Oh, well, that's ok."
And then under her breath, "Shit."
One of the comments to her post made me laugh out loud:
My earliest memory, was a time I was hiding from my mom in the closet, and when she stuck her head in the closet I slammed the door and broke her nose. I remember quite well, when she said, "Fucking son of a bitch my nose!"
On so many levels, I think 'oh, that poor mom' to that one. Broke her nose. I try valiantly not to swear around my kids, but... I could easily see myself swearing if Quinn or Jordan did that to me. They do hurt me sometimes, like pulling out whole handfuls of my hair... in part to see what will happen, I think.
Jordan hit me in the face with a hockey stick the other day. Searing pain in the nose. I was so mad I yelled a few sentences at him and threw the hockey stick down on the ground. Hopefully that won't be his first memory, for crying out loud.
It will, however, be a lovely lasting impression of me on my new neighbor, who walked past our open garage just as I was yelling and hockey stick throwing. I wanted to run after that neighbor and explain that I'd just gotten a hockey stick to the face, but didn't. It was just one of those unfortunate, unlucky moments that we all come across from time to time. At least I got that unlucky moment out of the way.
It did seem to me that a common element to the first memories in Sarah's comment section was some element of shock on the part of the kid (in one case, quite literally... the kid stuck a screwdriver in a light socket). So it's entirely possible that my kids will happen to remember one of those less than stellar moments.
My own first memory had no shocking elements. It's just me and my dad, sitting on my parents' bed. I was wearing a red plaid coat. I think I was 2 or 3.
I remember loving the buttons on the red plaid coat and not wanting to take it off because it was so pretty. My dad was gently teasing me about wearing a coat around in the house and I was enjoying being teased and laughing.
Then I remember my mom calling up to us from downstairs, but that's it- the memory fades completely after that. Just one random in hundreds of thousands of moments I had in those first few years, but for whatever reason that particular moment is the one that stuck long-term.
Ah, well. These things can't be scripted. I wonder if either or both of my kids (currently 2 and 3) has formed his first lasting memory yet, and if so I'd love to know what it is.
Hopefully it's a happy one.
Comments