My memories (could be boring to you, but very important to me)

Isn’t it funny what we remember? What sticks in our heads. The sights, the smells, the tastes, the things that make up our most precious commodities.
I don’t remember when my little sister was born. I don’t remember when she came home from the hospital. I have very few memories of her as a small child. She’s five years younger than me. I should certainly have some memories of these things. I do, however remember the day my sick from the start little brother died. I was three. I remember Christmas when I was three. I remember roller skating at three with a glass orange juice bottle and falling and cutting my hand. (WHO thought it was a good idea to give the girl on roller skates a glass bottle???) I remember moving when I was five. I remember visiting my grandparents and coming home on Christmas Eve and “Elves” had decorated my room. I can’t remember the color of the bathroom that I used for 9 years. I can’t remember ever bathing in that bathroom. I remember lying in front of the clothes dryer in the mornings to get warm after waking up and getting ready for school. I remember first grade math games with goldfish. I barely remember 2nd grade. I remember how profoundly the civil rights movement affected me in third grade when I was first exposed to that type of history. I remember when Susan Smith killed her kids. I remember when OJ Simpson was found not guilty. I remember the Oklahoma City Bombings. I remember the Columbine Shootings. I remember exactly what I was doing my 10th grade year when the first bits of news came out about the September 11th plane crashes. I remember exactly what I and Daniel were wearing when we went to the movies with our friends and discovered our large crushes on each other. I remember falling in love for the first time and I remember how badly it hurt when that ended. I remember my 2nd love and being sure I would be with him forever even though he’s turned out to be a giant asshole. I remember bits and pieces of Christmas’ past. I remember how the house always smelled of delicious turkey, mac and cheese, green beans, ham, and various other Thanksgiving items. I remember my Kindergarten graduation and the smells and visions of my elementary school creaky wood floors. I remember the elementary school carnivals and local fairs. I remember being inseparable from my big sister for years and then hating each other for days and then being inseparable again. I remember my first day of my first real job and how much I hated the day time manager, but I can’t remember her name to save my life. I remember the guy who worked at the go kart park that I had a huge crush on, but again, no names. I remember spending many nights at the local skating rink when I was 12 and 13 with my friends and various crushes. I remember the guy who was crazy about me, but I just didn’t like him that way. I remember the first time I felt not pretty enough or smart enough. I remember the first time I realize that sometimes adult suck too. I remember my first gymnastics class at 4 and the pink leotard with various color hearts on the front and the ruffles on the butt. I remember the moment my niece was born and the first time she fell asleep in my arms. I remember when my nephew was born. I remember the first positive pregnancy test. I remember the pain I felt when I lost that baby. I remember the first ultrasound with Dawson and the first kicks I knew for certain were kicks. I remember how fast those 9 months flew by. I remember the 3.5 hours of labor and the 2 hours of pushing and I remember his cries. I remember when they placed him on my chest and I looked at my husband with tears streaming down his face. I remember the look on my mother in law’s face when she saw her grandbaby for the first time. I remember the pride in my grandparent’s eyes as they realized they were now great grandparents. I remember the fear in my mom’s eyes when I was in labor and she came in. She was worried about her baby. I remember the pain from the stitches after my epidural wore off. I remember I wanted waffles for dinner the night D was born. I remember being awake all night just wanting to go home and sleep in my own bed. I remember asking the OB first thing on 12/24/08 if we could go home. I remember going home with my son. Introducing him to his house and laying him in his own bed the first time. I remember how small he looked in the crib. How big the crib looked. I remember being so tired I couldn’t function. I remember living like a zombie for months and months. I remember praying and crying for sleep. I remember not sleeping for 16 months. I remember first rolls, crawls, and steps. I remember first words…and how much my heart grew the moment my son called me “mama”. I remember the first bath and the first bite of real food. I remember the first camping trip and the first beach trip and how he hated the ocean and drew his little feet up and screamed when we put him in the water. I remember the first pool dip. I remember picking out his Halloween costume for his first Halloween when I was still pregnant with him. I remember his first Halloween as a spider. I remember his first hair cut and his 2nd and 3rd. I remember the first time he told me no. I remember how still sometimes in the middle of the night I’ll hear a little voice asking for his mama. I remember our first zoo trip, first children’s museum trip, and first public meltdown. I remember his first day of real school and crying like my heart had been ripped from my chest. I remember the first time he didn’t cry when I dropped him off at school. I remember how every afternoon when I pick him up he runs to me, screams “mama” and throws his arms around my neck. I remember his first pair of shoes. I remember his first Santa Claus visit. His first Christmas. His Second Christmas. I remember pinching his little leg in the car seat and being so mad at myself. I remember popping his hand for the first time b/c he was playing with an electrical outlet. I remember that hurting me more than him. I remember his first fall off the bed. I remember thinking it was the most horrific scream I’ve ever heard. I remember his first ear infection and his first ER visit. I remember his first little surgery and being so worried. I remember his ear tube surgery.
I know this isn’t all of it. I know this doesn’t even touch of my 24 years of memories, but it certainly is a start. I want to get this all down before one day I can’t. I have this huge fear that in my old age, I’ll lose my memories and that terrifies me. I want my son and future children to know my memories of my life and theirs. I want to never forget and always remember.