Archive for the ‘nostalgia’ Tag
March 06 2012
There’s a story that my mom likes to tell.
It happened a long time ago, before I was born. It’s a tale that starts out ordinarily enough. My father, a very intelligent man with common sense and inner strength for miles, was innocently taking a bath. There’s nothing wrong with that. Relaxing, doing whatever he did. When he was ready to get out, he pulled the plug keeping the water in, as is necessary to do.
Again, nothing out of the ordinary.
Except somewhere between innocent and how in the world, my dad managed to get his big toe stuck in the water drain.
It apparently took much maneuvering to set him free. The details at this point are fuzzy. In fact, I’ve never received an answer on just how this could happen or what type of emergency services had to be called to rescue his toe. Because it’s around now that my mother is always laughing too hard to speak.
She has never let him live this moment in their history down.
My mother will tell this story to anyone, even feeling the need to share it with the next generation of curious audiences. So far, Jedi has been one to sit down for this heart to heart. Through fits of laughter.
And now, every time my son pulls the drain after a bath, he jumps in a hurried panic out of the tub. Terrified that his toe will get caught in the drain. Like Grandpa. When you think of lessons to pass down, I don’t think this was what they had in mind. Though it is an important lesson to learn.
Don’t get your toe caught in a drain, kids.
November 29 2011
Growing up, we played a lot of board games. This was back before the days of iPads and internet, when the only computers I knew of were Commodore 64′s and regular old Nintendos were the must have video game console. And so we spent the majority of our time sitting around a table playing board games, as we had no other choice.
There were many that I loved: Monopoly and Life were great if we had nothing to do the rest of the day. Hungry, Hungry Hippo for noise. Yahtzee and Battleship for a quick round of fun. Then, Memory and Connect 4 because I was really good at them, and it’s always better when I knew I would most likely win.
Even though we do have a choice now, we’re beginning to appreciate the classic board games again. All weekend, Jedi and I were immersed in a battle of Monopoly. Abby has a Toy Story 3 Memory game that she loves to play, although she’s a rather sore loser. And Buzz has taken to Connect 4.
Well, his own superhero version of Connect 4.
For those who don’t know, Connect 4 comes with 2 different color chips, the goal of which is to connect 4 of your color. There are yellow and red. But it’s now not just yellow and red. To Buzz, it’s Spiderman and The Incredible Hulk. To stack one on top of the other equals a SpiderHulk. Though it has to be in a certain row. And judging by his prominent vocal annoyance, every chip I dropped in was done wrong. I’ve never lost so many games of Connect 4 in my life.
I miss the days when I was good at Connect 4, back when I knew what I was doing. I just don’t seem to understand these new rules.
October 10 2011
Abby has taken up quite a significant rock collection. Scouring for the perfect smoothed pebble has become her favorite past time whenever we venture outside. Her hands are happiest when they can take an unlimited amount of time sifting through dirt and debris, her small grasp never quite big enough to hold them all.
Not only does she have many stones gathered in different sections across our drive, we’ve brought the best of the bunch inside. My mom was over the other day and noticed the overflowing bowl we store them in, along with a few dusty stragglers scattered on the floor. “Did you wash all those rocks when you brought them in?”, she asked.
“No”, I replied. “Why would I wash off rocks when I’m just going to throw them back outside when she gets tired of them?”
“Well, I used to wash your rocks when you brought them in”, she remarked, haughtily.
“No, you didn’t”, I disputed.
My mother was adamant in her insistence, though. “Yes, I did.”
This wasn’t our first trip down alternate paths of memory lane. I would like to say it stopped here. But like a pebble in water, it had a ripple effect. We went back and forth a bit more before the subject was changed, neither of us willing to budge on our recollection of events. It’s just every day rocks, after all. The preferred kind you can skip onto any pond. I wonder, however, how even the smallest grain of reflection against the resulting folds of reminiscence can skew in such contrast for a mother and daughter who have spent most of their life living alongside. And how, exactly, does that bode for how my children will remember me.
October 05 2011
It catches me off guard. A simple item like a pink make-up brush, sitting innocently in the middle of my kitchen table. Like a time tunnel.
“You still have this?”, I asked my mom, amused at the memories that came flooding back.
“It’s been in my purse. Abby got it out.”
Before I knew it, I was an unsure 17 again. Experimenting with the latest eyeshadow tips out of magazines and applying mascara until it was close enough, though never quite the same as instructed. Wash, repeat, sometimes until my cheeks were red. A sentence of occupying our single bathroom for hours on end, staring at my reflection from multiple angles.
Wishing I was someone else. Who fit in. Who was beautiful and better.
I could see myself, hunched over the bathroom sink, cases of powder and colors around me. It was as if I traveled back 15 years before I was reminded of the now.
“That’s mine!”, my little Abby declared, grabbing the brush out of my hand. And I was back again. “Grandma gave it to me.”
Then as I sat, my daughter, thankfully still far away from uncertainty and self-doubt, positioned herself in front of me and began to sweep the soft bristles over my cheeks. The scent of memories in old make-up held within and familiar, yet forever ago. That girl I once was, who didn’t know then. If I could tell her, I’d say you don’t need magazines or pore-clogging foundation. There is already a strong base to stand on. One day you will be enough. You will fit in and your beauty will shine to those who truly matter.
July 13 2011
Jedi, November 10 2003, after 29.5 hours of labor.
Buzz, April 26 2006, after 6 hours of labor.
Abby, July 24 2008, after 2 hours of labor.
Even though I sometimes miss them being this small, squinty-eyed and screaming, and can’t believe it wasn’t yesterday, I’m more fond of the little people they’re growing into.
Then, there’s this:
Buzz at 1 month, giving 2 year old Jedi a piece of his mind. Some things never change.
Linked up with Rockin’ the Baby and Wordful/Wordless Wednesday.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
