What I Hope They Remember

This morning I made pancakes.  They looked like this.

The smoke detector went off, and my husband had to take out the batteries.  Again.  I sent my five-year-old daughter to open the doors and turn on the fans.  Again.  And as my twelve-year-old son and his friend ambled out of his bedroom, I thought, This happened the last time this friend spent the night.  I worried briefly that this is what Tyler’s friends would remember about me when they were adults.  And then I realized that this is what my own kids will likely remember.  And,  because my brain never shuts up, I quickly began to worry about all the other things my kids will remember about their childhoods.

1.  I’m afraid my kids will remember that every time their friends spent the night, they awoke to the smoke detector screeching because I was burning breakfast.  I hope they remember that our home was always open to friends and family, a place where sleepovers were commonplace.

2.  I’m afraid that my kids will remember that our country home had some less than desirable stray animals.

I hope they remember that, when Daddy was at work, we would sometimes sneak the cuter animals indoors and kept it our secret.

3.  I’m afraid they’ll remember me as a fat mom, because that’s all I’ve ever been.  I hope they’ll remember my attempts to get healthy and how much fun we all had Sweating to the Oldies.

4.  I’m afraid they’ll remember the long lines their Dad pulled them into to buy a turkey leg at every theme park and state fair we ever visited.  I hope they’ll remember that his favorite part of the turkey leg was sharing.

5.  I’m afraid they’ll remember that sometimes I made them shut off the television and put away the iPads in favor of playing a board game.  I hope they remember how much we laughed as we played and how much I loved to see them win.

6.  I’m afraid they’ll remember that there was seldom a day when our house wouldn’t qualify as “a bit messy.”  I hope they’ll remember that it was always acceptable to pull out blankets and rearrange furniture to make fort in the living room.

7.  I’m afraid they’ll remember me as the mom who made them participate in household chores.  I hope they’ll remember that we were a family who could laugh as we worked together.

8.  I’m afraid they’ll remember all the times their Dad stuck his foot in their faces or told them to pull off his sweaty socks.

I hope they remember that they were so in love with their Dad that they sat on top of him every time he was home.

9.  I’m afraid my kids will remember being dragged, hot and sweaty, to some historical marker or museum on vacation.  I hope they remember that we tried to show them a little piece of the world.

10.  I’m afraid they’ll remember me as a mom who didn’t know what she was doing, who fumbled her way through parenthood and said “no” too much and “yes” at the wrong times.  I hope they remember that they have always been my entire world; I hope they know that I always tried to make the right decision — tried to balance character-building, responsibility, safety, and fun.  

I hope they never question how much they were loved.