The Up and Down of Memories and Motherhood

It was Easter Sunday, and I was eight years old. We’d moved into a new house that summer, and winter came before we landscaped much, so the backyard didn’t have grass or mulch or anything. The yard was sunken, so melted snow and rain made a shallow but large pool of mud. My brothers and I were in our Easter outfits, which we’d normally have had to change out of before playing. That day though, we ended up playing in the mud pool still wearing our Sunday best.

I can’t remember whether it happened organically – beginning with an accidental slip or something – or whether my dad told us to go crazy. When we were finished, completely mud-covered from hair to toe, my mom wouldn’t let us in the house. My dad had us strip naked on the back porch and washed us with freezing water from the garden hose. It’s one of my favorite memories.

The Up and Down of Memories and Motherhood

I’ve been thinking a lot about what I remember from when I was a kid. In part, because so many of my childhood stories are intertwined with my brothers, and I worry about Tucker not having a sibling to play with in the yard when I’m unable or unwilling to. What will his childhood takeaways be? Will he remember building an epic box fort when we moved, or the suckiness of moving? Both? Will he remember how we laughed, or will he remember the times his dad and I were angry with one another?

What Will He Remember?

Tucker started spring break today (well, technically, today and tomorrow are just “no school days” for conferences but since next week is his official break, school’s closed for 11 days). I worry about being better everyway. Trying to meet work obligations while also wanting him to have a few mud-pool-like memories feels overwhelming.

The thing is, it’s not hard to keep him entertained. Building this couch fort with him took minimal effort and time on my part. “Is it radical, Mom?”

“Totally radical, Dude.”

And that was it. He’s now watching YouTube videos while we wait for Chinese food delivery and I type. While I cringe at each declaration of boredom, I realize we do a lot of fun things with and for our son. Sunday, I’ll take him for an overnight at Great Wolf Lodge which is one of his favorite places. Surely, he’ll remember us going down the waterslides, and his dad laughing at me for having to close my eyes every single time in the tornado section. He’ll remember that, right? Or zorbing and zombie escapes, or the billions of roller coasters we’ve gone down together?

Still, I tend to focus on the moments when I know he’ll be bored and lonely without a sibling. Which is how, just a few days ago, I booked a last minute trip to Disneyland at the end of his break. That’s being better everyway, right? He better remember it…

***

This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post, with this lovely photo as a prompt (word “up”).

This post doesn’t have anything to do with hot air ballooning, or much to do with “up,” but see, it does. Seeing this photo made me think of going to the hot air balloon festival this summer. Seeing traditional balloons, and one of Yoda, a Darth Vader, and Sponge Bob.

We ordered drive-through breakfast croissant sandwiches when it was still dark outside and got to watch the balloons inflate. And now I think about all of the cool stuff Tucker gets to do… which leads to wondering why I feel guilty that he doesn’t have a sibling to play with, which leads to thinking about what I remember doing as a kid. So, it totally counts. Plus, duh, the title. The Up and Down of Memories and Motherhood. That has the word “up” in it.