I'm not dying, but here's this

I'm sitting here watching Remember the Titans...and after getting over the shock that this movie is 13 years old, it made me extremely sad. It's a football movie set in the 60s, which automatically made me think of my grandpa. I miss him so much sometimes I can't even stand it. I just want him back, and it makes me so sad. Yes, he lived a good long 84 years....but he should've lived longer...I want more memories!




So this also has me thinking back to reading Our Town when I was in the 8th grade, and how much of an impact it had on me. I've always been a touch morbid and curious/scared of death...but this play made me think so hard about LIFE and how we all take it for granted like we won't ever get sick, get old, and die. The scene where Emily goes back and is begging her mama to just look at her...it's her 12th birthday and they are just going about their usual business, but no one actually looks at each other. It gets me in my core. I so want to soak everything up. I so want to look everyone straight in their eyes. I want to remember every detail....and I am able to do so, to a point. I can remember the texture of my Granny's hair and the way her hand felt in mine. I can distinctly remember the smell of my Papaw, a kind of sweet, sawdusty aroma. I can hear my grandpa's voice clear as a bell and can still feel his grip on my arm as I walked by. I can see my Big Daddy's smile when I'd walk in the door, and the sound of MaMae's laugh as she'd (lovingly) inflict pain on me. I remember my Mimi never being without GooGoo clusters. I remember sitting on my MaMaw's (great GREAT grandmother) lap and feeling I was her favorite. I remember how Grandmother Mary walked and how she held her mouth and say, "mmm" when acknowledging what you said. And how thick all of their accents were. These thoughts and memories all bring hot tears to my eyes....




There's a reason I take so many pictures and keep my phone on my body 99% of my day. I'm so afraid I'll forget something. I'm so aware of the fact that I don't always pay attention like I should, so I keep my camera at the ready so it can hopefully "remember" and capture what I can't. It's already so hard to remember Colt being the same age as Scarlett.... it's foggy and unclear. I can remember carrying him around and how small he was....how his foot was the length of my finger, and his head fit perfectly in my hand. I can remember the sound of his baby-cry and how he only wanted me for months. Yet I can look back at some pictures and be in amazement at how I don't remember him being that little. I look at his outgrown shoes and forget his foot ever fit in them. I want to go back and snuggle my sweet baby Colt more because at the time I was so exhausted and hormonal and awful that even though I know I loved him, I didn't truly cherish that time. But who can??




First time mommyhood is the pits. You're provided with super high expectations of instant connection to this being you've cooked inside you for 9 months. All the pictures you see in maternity stores and kid's places are of a svelt woman cuddling her sweetly sleeping baby on white sheets. The reality of it (for me, anyway), was trying not to lose anything in my newly developed kangaroo pouch and never sleeping because the natural act of breastfeeding was anything but. On top of no sleep, a serious life changing event, and body catastrophes, I was also unknowingly starving my child. For 6 months. I had a natural (read: drug free) birth, so of course I was absolutely going to nurse this baby come hell or mastitis to kill a moose and infections in both breasts. It didn't matter I was seriously sleep deprived, not producing enough, or that formula was not going to cause permanent brain damage. He was getting the boob. He may not get any milk, but he was getting the boob gosh darn it. He got it for a full year, but once food was introduced--what a difference!




ANYway....




Even though I had such a hard time with Colt (I'm pretty sure he was 2m old before I ever really talked to him), I knew I wanted to do it again. I knew I could do it all again bc once you get passed the post-partum junk, once you get over yourself a bit, once you get into some awesomeness that is motherhood....life is better than you ever could have imagined. I was scared to death, but we had another baby. Scarlett Mae was born at 5:08am on Tuesday June 11 after a quick (but holy crap super super intense) 3 hour labor. She nurses and sleeps and fits right in. But geezaloo, do I wish I had waited 15 more minutes and had her in the parking lot of the hospital. Could've saved us $2000....oy. But that's another blog....




I want to remember everything, but more than that I want to cherish everything. I want to acknowledge that even the smallest of things are incredible. I want to simply breathe in this life, my family, my friends. I want to breathe it all in and never exhale. I don't want to let any of it go. I am overly sentimental and I know that...and remembering everything is impossible (unless you have some weird brain issue), and needlessly saying stupid. Do I really want to remember potty training (AKA: those months Colt just did his business on my living room floor. That's carpeted.)? Do I really want to remember every moment I lost my cool? Do I want to think about all the time that has already gone by and that we can all only get older from here? Not so much. But I do want to remember the little things as well as the big. The way Colt runs around being "Super Colt" in his cape, and how his cape has now become his church uniform. The way Scarlett coos while squinching her eyes. Colt meeting Scarlett when she was only an hour old, talking to her in this funny high-pitch voice, and tickling her toes...asking me where my belly was (then giving me his). I want to remember their birthday parties, first everythings, the feel of their hugs, the words Colt doesn't say right ("bitch" for "bridge" and the embarrassment that is him wanting to take his sidwalk chaulk outside, "I want my cock out!!"). I want to remember how early Scarlett locked eyes with me for the first time and how she smiles with her whole face. I want to remember this life I've created with my husband. I want to remember why I love him and that we promised so much to each other. Moreso than wanting myself to remember, I want them to remember.




I pray my children remember singing silly songs, bathtime madness, and watching movies in the fort I'd make for them. I pray they remember what my hugs and kisses felt like. I pray they remember a mom who played with them and paid attention....not the mom who had to clean before she played, or who couldn't put her phone away, right away. I pray they remember books with my silly voices, bedtime prayers that included me being thankful for the joy they brought, the knowledge they were adored...I pray they remember the touch of my hand, the sound of my voice, the way that I laughed...the ways they made me laugh. I pray they want a marriage like their parents. I pray that my children want to remember.....I pray the things they forget are the things they should forget.




I am thankful for so many things in my life. I cherish my memories. I hope, when it's my time, to leave the kind of legacy that has my loved ones remembering me with love in their hearts, as they stay up later than they should watching a random movie.....