Thursday, October 28, 2010

A Realization...

Something struck me today, as I took a walk with 3/4 of my children (the oldest and the youngest two). My oldest suggested a little game to play as we walked along in the ever-so-rare perfect fall weather. "Mommy, don't step on the cracks!" he said "Because if you do you'll get shrunk down until the crack seems like a huge canyon, and you'll fall in." This atypical twist on the 'don't step on the cracks' game came about on some other walk several years ago when I quite randomly came up with the idea and shared it with my sons. I never brought it up again. Just one silly moment, probably 3 years ago or so in a goofy flash of inspiration.

What occurred to me today was the great importance my boys put in the things I say, be they serious or amusing. Things that I don't even particularly remember, they keep in their memory banks as treasure. This is scary. I mean deeply worrisome. I never know when I may say something utterly life-changing. Four little people put me on such a pedestal and listen to my most random proclamations and remember them forever! Sometimes I think I'm not such a good person to be on such a pedestal... I have very little filtration between brain and mouth. Especially when little boys are accurately pushing my buttons. Sometimes being a parent is a most intensely terrifying experience.

When you think about it, you remember certain things your parents did and said 25 years after the fact, and they have no idea such-and-such event ever occurred. In a child's brain, the most minor occurrence may take on epic proportions. As a parent you never know when that magic switch may get flipped and all your words recorded on some permanent memory file in your child's head.

So 25 years from now, my children may come to me and say, "Mom remember when..." and I'll have no idea what they are talking about, but they will remember it as this enormous, life-altering moment.

No Pressure.... right? Right.

So since you can't pick your family, and they seem to love me as much as I love them, (no matter how many accidental curse words I scream in moments of frustration) I guess I shouldn't completely freak out about this. They may not be lucky to have me, but I am lucky to have them... and I'm going to resolve (yes, months before the new year) to try to remember that when they erase my all-time high scoring game of Bookworm, or wake the baby after I've just spent thirty minutes rocking him to sleep... or run through the house with poo on their shoes... or wrestle with each other for 45 minutes after they've been put to bed... I could continue. But I won't. Because they are wonderful, and I love them always.