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Do you ever think back to your childhood and there are those few things that stand out to you as memorable? Chances are it's either something really funny or something really awful, isn't it? Like the time you went on vacation and your sister threw up in the car. Or that time that you got stung by a bee on the beach. Or that time that your Dad burped along to a song on the radio. (Listen, for boys, gross IS funny.)
For some reason, our memories seem to catalog the funniest and most horrendous things as the most memorable. Sure, you might remember the song that your mom sung you to sleep with when you were little, but first you'll remember how your little brother wet the bed until he was 5.
Why am I thinking about this you ask? Probably because the one memory that my youngest brother has of me (and he wasn't even there, it's just a "passed down" memory) is that when I was four, I ate a stick of butter. Why? I have no freaking clue. I mean, yeah, I DO love me some butter, but not enough to eat an actual stick of it. But that's adult me. Maybe four year old me was like, "Mmm, butter. Must eat some." And it makes me wonder what memories my own kids will carry with them as they grow up.
For instance, our annual vacations where we drive for two days each way. What are they going to remember from that? (I mean, other than creative ways to insult idiot drivers.) Will they remember the "snackpack"? (The backpack full of "Shut up and eat this" snacks for the drive.) Or the movies they'd watch on the way down?
Ha! Right.
Here's what they are going to remember:
That year that the boys had a fart off to see who could stink up the car more. (that was THIS year, thank you very much for that.)
That Mom would drive in New Jersey so that Dad didn't end up flipping anyone off.
How much Mom HATES driving in the Carolinas and their stupid two lane highways. (Just put in a third lane already!!)
Sleeping in a hotel room with your entire family sucks. No, I take that back. It actually SUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKS! Big time. (Sleeping with kids. Snoring husbands. No fan for white noise. Need I say more?)
How cranky Mom can get being stuck in a traffic jam when he bladder (that's been squished by four bouncing babies thank you very much) is full to bursting.
How long into the drive it takes Mom and Dad to start squabbling because traffic also SUUUUCCCCKKKKKS! (Sometimes we actually make it out of the driveway! Ha ha ha.)
How annoying Yo Gabba Gabba can be on repeat for 18 hours.
That time there was a snake in the bedroom. That Mom found. At 11:30 at night.
That year that the dead jelly fish were all over the beach and Mom kept having a heart attack anytime the two year old went near one.
It will be interesting, ten years from now, to look back together and compare our memories of the same trips. I'm sure that everyone will have a different perspective on things. Hopefully their Mom-ories make me out to be less crazy and frazzled than I really am. Or if not, maybe they'll think it's funnier then.
For all the families making similar "rememberies", may they be as funny, stinky, and memorable as ours have been. And from my family to yours, Happy Easter!
