Once again, I am reminded that in a former life, a life before children, I used to love three day weekends. I used to crave them, schedule them onto my books for weeks, plan them, savor every moment of them. Now, it is simply a matter of survival. I have to outlast these little suckers until Tuesday. Their stamina is shocking.
Right now, M is playing the music video to Jack Johnson's Taylor is a Good Girl, which was, once upon a time, E's favorite song. When he was barely able to talk, E could sing this song so beautifully. He knew all the words, and would ask questions about the song. He had a friend named Taylor in his class, and he used to pretend that the song was for her. Tonight at dinner, we were talking about the song, and E revealed that he didn't remember it. There is something so sad about that. It was a whole family thing--everyone would ask E to sing Taylor. His teachers at his school would ask him to sing it, and now he says he never even heard the song before.
I understand that the "first five" are the most important years in a child's life. I, obviously, subscribe to that theory, since I have committed to staying home and being the main part of my childrens' days until they are school-aged. But, it hardly seems fair that they don't EVEN remember half that time. I mean, it's freaking heart breaking to think about the hours that I spent working puzzles, listening to music, playing with little friend, singing songs, and just being with my kids aren't even registering in the conscious mind of my little dudes. Sure, there is the educational benefit, and the subconscious consistency and love he (theoretically) felt during those early years, but NOT EVEN TO REMEMBER THEM? That's cruel. I think of all those sleepless nights, those tedious hours of blocks, and toys, and all the things developing minds do, and I can only hope that those moments, some of which are treasures to me, exist somewhere in the minds of my little men.
I love my children, and I naturally would do what is best for them, whether they consciously remember it or not....but wouldn't it be nice if they did?
Awww, I feel ya. I often think of that and how my little G just craves me, won't let anyone else comfort him when he's hurt or sick, prefers me above all others. But, let's face it, he's only 2 and if I, poof, disappeared, he would have little to no memories of me. Sad, but I think our memories as parents are as important as the memories we hope they have.
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