I am bad at remembering. Really bad.
I try, I really do. But I end up forgetting things, like birthdays, anniversaries, brushing my teeth at night, what I was doing two years ago, what life was like in college, and what exactly it was I did yesterday.The thing is, I didn't always used to be so bad at remembering. There was a time when you could count on me to remember even the most mundane stuff. Stuff that happened years ago that no one else remembered. But then, for some reason I still don't understand, I stopped.
I can, however, tell you the exact time when I realized that I do have a problem with it, though. In college, my roommate and best friend was having some weird health stuff going on. We weren't sure what was happening, and neither were her doctors. They gave her a list of potential problems, and one of them was cancer. It was scary.
But you know what? I forgot about it. I forgot until she mentioned something about a year or so ago, like "blah blah blah when we thought I might have cancer blah blah blah." I did a double take on the phone, thinking, what? Cancer? When did we think you might have had cancer? And she patiently (though she was understandably a little annoyed) reminded me of the time during my sophomore year. You know, when we were living together? In a small space? And we knew pretty much everything about each other? That time? Remember?
And I didn't.
And that seemed very, very wrong to me.
And since then, I've been trying to make a conscious effort to stamp things in my brain. This blog, for one, was created to help me remember things that were happening in my life in a time when I could feel my brain slowing slipping out of my body. I think the weight I gained during pregnancy (which is still here, by the by) was pushing it out my ears. Just a theory. Anyway.
There are things that I remember about Birdy, and somethings that I think of each day so that they stay fresh in my mind. I remember sitting up with her when she was a few weeks old at four in the morning. It was quiet. The novelty of a sweet baby had worn off a bit, as they tend to wake up numerous times in the night wanting food, so I had stopped simply staring at her in amazement a few days before this. I was reading Anne of Green Gables in the lamplight, holding Birdy snugly to my side as she slowly nursed. It was peaceful. It was awesome. It made me feel like an honest-to-God mom. It is something that I hope to remember when she's a snotty teenager (as I'm sure she will be), when she's having her first baby, when she turns 40, 50, and 60. And I hope that I feel the same way about that memory then as I do now.
In the meantime, I plan on trying to remember her like that when she is throwing her snack on to the floor, flinging herself on the the floor, and grinding Cheerios into the floor (and sometimes doing all three at the same time).
And what about you? What do you try to remember?