From My Memory to Theirs

In our family, we change the books from heroes to heroines. We censor anything other than G movies. The kids ears aren't pierced. Bedtime is 8pm. All of this because being a parent of small children means I am also a gatekeeper. I stand guard over their exposures, control their rhythm, provide their diet, clothe them in my choices, and shape their beliefs about the world. And while they are young, I am, incredibly, also the curator of their memories. Their memories! As we sit together smiling over photos, they digest my story behind each image, a story I can shape and bend. Their temperament as an infant, first friendships, reactions to x, y, and z... all of it, dependent on my memory and, if I like, under my control to alter.*
*An empowered, rosy-glassed version of history never hurt anyone's self concept, am I right?!

Until... about age six (and especially by age seven). As Nug grows through second grade, she roots more and more firmly into her own memory tree. She doesn't need me to interpret or curate. For months I've been trying to pinpoint what feels so different about second grade, and I think it is this: that I no longer have a straight tap into her psyche. She's busy creating stories and memories that I may never know about.

(As I write this, I asked Nug about her first memory. She said it is the song "Kipper" from a TV show of the same name, from about age 2-3. "They call him Kipper, Kipper the dog. The one with the slipper..." She then sat down and began journaling her memories as I typed alongside her. Oh, my new writing buddy!)

So... what will she first remember? What do I remember? What do YOU remember?

My First Memories:

Age 3-4:

The cool air coming off the painted cement of my preschool's indoor walkway, walking hand in hand with my mom. My preschool snack of applesauce, graham crackers, or Bugs on a Log, which we ate after a jazzy song of grace.

"Oh the Lord is good to me, and so I thank the Lord! For giving me the things I need, the sun and the rain and the apple trees, the Lord is good to me.

The heartbreaking theft of my beloved Big Wheels! Stolen from our porch one night because, no, I didn't put it away like I was supposed to. A first life lesson. Sigh.

Happily binging on Flintstone gummy vitamins like candy. Only realizing they weren't candy when I read it on my mom's horrified face.

These still look delicious to me. Hmm the chalky sweetness.

Age 5:

Kindergarten, my pencil grip adjusted by the teacher. Feeling affronted, I immediately changed it back to my personal style once she walked away.

Making pyracantha berry mud pies in the front yard.

The torment of my older brother throwing locusts at me (it's true, this happened!). And my hero... the grey-haired, polyester-shorts-wearing neighbor whom we called "Auntie Flo"... scolding him. She was always on my side. :-)

Washing the car shirtless alongside my shirtless dad, and feeling my first wave of female self-consciousness.

Driving across the Mackinaw Bridge in awe.

Age 6:

First grade, hurting myself badly at school but feeling too embarrassed to tell the teacher why I needed to see the nurse.

The fall my brother took on our way to school, and the funny way he acted afterwards. Turns out it was a concussion.

Enjoying cold sips of my Dads Coors Light (they were offered, not stolen! I was six, people)

We also had this lamp!

The heat of the sun-baked cement wall in our backyard against my wet bathing suit. My damp outline on grey brick and the sticky, pulling noise it made when I pushed off it.

My love for "Mousercise" on TV! It was aerobics with Disney characters. And lots and lots of leg warmers.

Age 7 

Watching a sci-fi movie with my brother and a babysitter, which honestly did scare me, but deciding to amp it up and will myself to cry until my parents came home. Poor babysitter.

Proudly wearing my Brownie Girl Scout uniform: brown dress, sash, and hat. And the time another mom dropped me home from a meeting but the front door was locked. Ringing the doorbell repetitively (my parents were in the backyard, swimming), I became frantic because the crickets-- chirping, jumping, ugly crickets-- took over our front porch every evening and it was only a matter of time before I'd be covered and, logically, devoured. My nightmares realized, I ran to my neighbor's house (Auntie Flo!) so hysterical that I couldn't even tell them what was wrong. Once my parents were present and it was all puzzled out... everyone laughed. Sigh.

Walking home from school with a friend and discussing what our boogers taste like! Classy.

So... what are your first memories? And to my family- what do you remember of these events? I'm curious to know far off we might be! Also- does it go without saying?- this is not a definitive list!