Firsts.

I’m notorious for having a poor memory, but there are some firsts I do remember.  If I remember it, I can recall more of the feeling or environment, I am quite well known for missing the details.

Here’s an example, one of my previous posts had a picture of my kids sitting outside a train station.  The point of the post was to explain their personalities and the “feeling” of the picture. I typed quickly stating they were sitting outside Grand Central Station in New York City, published it, and went to bed.

Michael read my post the next day and told me he really enjoyed it. I was pleased, as I always am when he enjoys my writing.  He then very kindly inserted a “but”.  I looked up and he told me our children were sitting in front of Union Station in Washington DC.  See what I mean? I was there taking the picture, but the details sometimes escape me.

There are the obvious firsts – first kiss, first time, first job.  I do remember those, sort of.

Some are fuzzy because I was either in pain, first time giving birth, or they took me by surprise, first love.

I do remember some of my first and only wedding, but not much.  My first time to Europe, very little, our two children were under the age of 10 and I think we saw like seven countries in 15 days, a complete blur.

As I get older, I try to slow some things down so I can remember the details, but quite often it doesn’t work.  I do recognize the value of the memory and I try.

My first child turned 18 last weekend.  A few years ago, I had to fill out some paperwork for her first appointment with a specialist that was not her pediatrician. There was a whole page of questions I struggled to answer. They were detail questions.  When did she first sit up, walk, etc.

Good Lord, I don’t remember that.

I’m sure there are some mothers that can recall that information, but I’m not good at details, remember?  I felt bad for days.  Shouldn’t a mother remember when her daughter first sat up?  Isn’t that important?

I thought about that paperwork this past weekend and here’s what I realized sitting looking at my magnificent daughter on her 18th Birthday…

I remember what her face looks like when she wakes up in the morning.  She looks the same today as she did when she was 5.  Morning face is my favorite.

I remember her big smile and her little smile.

I remember how she feels when she hugs me and the warmth in her stunning brown eyes.

I remember what her perfect little lips looked like when she was first born.

I remember raising her every day.  Really being with her through all eighteen years.

You know when people say, “Wow, the time just flew by?”  Yeah, not for me.  I was present and it has been my single most favorite first.

It is true, I can not tell you at what age Katlyn first sat up, but looking back on the first 18 years of her life, I forgive myself.  There was so much more to enjoy.

That’s all from the laundry room.  Keep the fan on.

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