On Mothers & Memories

One of my most reoccuring thoughts now that I have a toddler & two nieces - "was it like this when I was the baby? Did my mom love knowing about my cousin celebrating milestones the same way I love it for my nieces? (hearing my older niece talk is so fun, and watching my younger niece crawl just had me audibly cheering). Did my aunt enjoy handing her baby off to my mom and playing with me as a toddler, the way my sisters and I swap kids now?" I believe yes.

Part of the reason I have to think yes is because I have the photographic evidence of it, as seen below.

Me & Popo (grandma), Abigail (sister) & Mom, Megan (cousin) & Aunt Julie

Me & Aunt Julie at dim sum (I just took my younger niece to her first dimsum last weekend)

Aunt Kimberly valiantly trying to read two different books to two nieces at once.

(Also, my older niece's resembleance to my sister is uncanny looking at these old photos)

Scheerer/Winston cousins after a Christmas celebration/service

Me & my cousin Ben at that same gathering with Christmas gifts

(I included this one because if you've seen photos of my son, you've seen this smile I handed down)

My Aunt Lisa and I touching a stingray! (even though I am very little in this picture, I do have a vague memory of this day, because who could forget the time they touched a stingray!)

With the exception of the stingray, I don't remember any of these individual moments. They are, mostly, very ordinary days. But here I am looking for ordinary days, because I'm looking to find "did mom and dad feel this way or that way", and looking to find "is this or that feature of my son reflective of my own face at his age". And this is why we take pictures. When my son was born, I couldn't take enough pictures of him. Every part of him fascinated me and I didn't want to forget. But now, it's mostly him who looks at those pictures, and not me. I hold the memory more easily than I thought I would, but he doesn't hold it at all. I use the pictures so that I can transfer my memory to him, just as the pictures above are transferred memories from my mom and aunts about how they felt when I was the toddler.

I can hold the memory of my newborn and love the three-year-old of my present at the same time. It's wild to me to think on how my mom holds the memory of a new born and loves her almost-32-year old of the present at the same time. Nothing helps you appreciate your mom more than becoming one yourself. Nothing helps you appreciate your aunts more than becoming one yourself. And this goes for what I'll call "spiritual aunts" as well, friends of your parents, neighbors, women from the church. Yesterday I was talking to one of my mom's neighbors (who happens to also be a woman from my church) and she was remembering how I helped paint her house when I was ~12 years old, how I used to babysit for her kids - holding a younger me in her mind while engaging with present day me. One day, my best friend's toddler (who I love fiercely) will look at me and talk to me as "an equal adult" and I will carry the memory of her as a sweet little girl in pigtails from today with me in that future.

Happy Mother's Day (weekend), Mom. And Aunt Julie, Aunt Kimberly, Aunt Lisa, and Aunt Janet. Happy Mother's Day to all those women who loved on me to get me to where I am today, who hold a memory of me younger in their hearts simultaneously with the me of the present.

On all the boys I've loved before

 Today at the groccery store with my almost three year old, I saw one of the boys I've loved before (thanks, Jenny Han, for that poetic phrase). 

The one that had my exact same birthday and it was a point of unification for me to build a little crush on. (while my crush didn't last, I did feel a little sad when he walked past me like a stranger in the store today.)

And that got me thinking about the other boys I've loved before.

The one who played the organ at church after youth group, and I would sit and listen to him play and let the music build me little castles in the air (we hardly ever spoke, but his mom is friends with my mom so I periodically hear about him, he got a whole degree in organ music which is cool).

The one who was on debate team with me, and made me feel like I was someone worth talking to and more than just "a girl" (we went to different high schools and that was that).

The one who walked around barefoot with a mohawk and played guitar in our dorm and was super cool, but had a girlfriend who became like a big sister to me so I scolded myself out of the crush as quickly as I could. (They're married and still my friends now, I'm really glad I got over this one)

The one who had a girlfriend, and I knew it, and I told him I was into him anyways in the dark of night on a religious retreat, and he was very sweet and let me down very gently. (I was too embarassed to speak to him much again after that. He married that girl.)

The one who liked country music, and helped me with my homework, and let me read the draft of his horror novel, which I read because I had a crush, and then I sobbed violently when I thought he was going to date one of our other friends. (he didn't, but by the time I knew that I'd moved on)

And then...the one. The one that stood a foot taller than every other guy in our dance class, and hunched his shoulders to try and hide it, and our teacher kept telling him to stand tall. The one that I looked for on campus but never found, because he didn't actually go to our school, he was just taking the dance class to meet people (girls. he wanted to meet girls. don't let him tell you different, that was the story). The one who asked for my number to practice dancing with me, who practiced with me every week for three months before asking if he could come home to meet my family one Sunday after church, and I forgot that it just happened to be Easter Sunday that week. The one who took me on our first date on my parent's wedding anniversary, and three years later took me back to the same spot to ask me to marry him. The one who made his mini-me with me, and now I love that little boy more than any other boy I've ever loved before.

Happy Valentine's Month to all the boys I've loved before, but especially to my husband and my son.