I follow a handful of Instagram accounts and the Huffington Post to get my weekly Mommy blog dose – you know, the posts that make you gush a little and spur you onto tears, guilt, or a bit of both.
This blog’s inspirational post discouraged me a bit. I’m a stay-at-home Mom, and so was my Mom at this point in my life. My brother and I are 22 months apart, and while I’m sure there’s many things that my Mom did with us at this age, I remember none of it. Not one single memory – only blips of when my parents were together, and what I have on some old family VHS tapes to remind me of our early childhood. Marin and Isaac will surely not remember this time in their lives either, and when you’re doing all you can to make your kids’ world a little better each day, it can easily feel futile. So, as a result, I decided to sum up this Friday, January 30th, 2015, in a list of things they will not remember, but that did matter to them today…
You will not remember what it was like to wake up while it was still dark out or be my alarm clock. You will not remember what it was like to wait for me to dress your brother as you called for me from your crib. You will not remember looking at me excitedly and asking me to wipe your boogers, but I will.
You will not remember how I had to get you dressed before breakfast or you’d fight me all morning to change you out of your pajamas. You will not remember me fighting to just sit next to you for breakfast together, and losing the battle. You will not remember me watching you eat your eggs as I scrubbed the kitchen floor and tackled the sticky stains on it. Or how you peeled off the yolks and left your fried egg whites almost every morning to the trash. You will not remember sitting in your bouncy chair and contently watching the snow fall outside, but I will.
You will not remember the way you adored your baby brother, and the dozens of times a day I reminded you to give him space. You will not remember telling me ‘heeeey, stop. I wanna say hiiiii’. You will not remember how adorable it was to hear you say ‘yeshaday’ or the way your eyes squinted when you were very sure of yourself and responded ‘mmhmm’, but I will.
You will not remember how you fought sleep all day, and how you only wanted me to nurse you to bed. You will not remember how many times I returned to try to put you back to sleep. You will not remember how when I put your brother down for his naps, multiple times a day, you found new things – mainly your own independence. You will not remember playing with wooden animals on the playroom floor, tracing handprints to make a Valentine’s Day-inspired “LOVE” poster, or asking to watch Curious George, but I will.
You will not remember adorably saying “Mama, lemme showyu” as you tried to back me into the pantry and coerce me into another ‘pop’. You will not remember the way you loved to pick out your own applesauce, ‘cook’ me rice and honey in your kitchen, or knew that I liked honey and cream in my tea, but I will.
You will not remember how incredibly patient you were when I told you I could only read one book quickly because Buddy was tired too. You will not remember how big of a deal this was because you will not remember how lengthy bedtimes were before you were a big sister. You will not remember how empathetic you became to his cries – how you’d say “it’s ok Buddy” and pet him with your hand, but I will.
You will not remember how much you hated my camera or how it turned into a game where I got to chase you around the apartment. You will not remember your sheer delight for all of my attention, even just running circles around our home. You will not remember how those same hallways, you’d tiptoe over when Buddy was asleep. Or how you would quietly open our bedroom door when you knew I was nursing him, but you really needed me to blow your nose or lay beside me, but I will.
You will not remember what an honor it was to be asked to ‘hold ma’ hand?’ no matter how many times you asked. You will not remember how I questioned whether I should stay at home with you, lamented over the decision to send you to preschool, or felt trapped that you only wanted me. You will not remember how conflicting it felt to make dinner or clean or spend more time with you. You will not remember how tired I felt by bedtime most nights, but I will (vaguely).
You will not remember bath times where you made us drinks and we did ‘cheers!’ or after a poo explosion. You will not remember kissing my zit or ‘boo boo’ all day to make it ‘all betta’. You will not remember trying to hold your brother’s hand or laying beside him on his floor gym or sitting on him on his bouncy chair. You will not remember how no matter how guilty I felt taking chunks of your day to put your brother to sleep, you were incredibly understanding and thought little of it, but I will.
You will not remember the accidents you had in your panties because I couldn’t get you to the potty in time. You will not remember the accomplishment of sitting on the ‘big potty’ or the way you waddled throughout the house when your pants were down. You will not remember me checking my phone as I nursed you to sleep so I could catch up on emails or mentally checkout from reality. You will not remember how easy and how overwhelming certain times of day felt when you both needed me equally, but I will.
You will not remember how I tucked you into bed with three blankets, but by your request, not the one I made for you. You will not remember asking for ‘other monkey too’ since you now sleep with two monkeys and your paci. You will not remember doing the most selfless thing you’ve ever done to this point – sharing your paci with your brother, in tears. You will not remember refusing the paci, and all the ways Daddy and I tried to encourage you to take it, and despaired when you didn’t. You will not remember only wanting me and how exhausting that felt, but I will.
And I will miss you only wanting me. And I will miss you mispronouncing words, and when my biggest fears were of you sleeping through the night. I will miss you fitting in my arms and when you came to me, everytime, without hesitation, when something hurt. I will miss you only liking one another and telling me multiple times a day “I love him”. I will miss you not seeing my faults, but I will appreciate that when you do, you chose to love me still.