I’m here a bit late this week with the newsletter.
This past week was a blur of so many things, most of which I don’t remember as I sit here now on Sunday evening. I know I barely worked, but what in the world was I doing instead?
Mom stuff. Lots of driving around. Researching and adding things to my online carts. Moving laundry from washing machine to dryer to upstairs and dirty stuff back downstairs. Lots of texting other moms to make sure all the details were taken care of for graduation and the ensuing picnic party we were in charge of. Getting kids “ready to go” then ferrying them places. Playdate and childcare arranging.
Listing it all out, it sounds lame, like all of that should have take an hour or maybe an afternoon at most. I seriously don’t know where the time went.
If you ask my mom a question about my childhood, there’s an 80% chance she’ll answer “I don’t remember.”
I used to think this was because she didn’t care enough to remember the details. (Sniff! Sob! Poor me!) But as I approach a baker’s dozen of years spent parenting, I realize that I, too, suffer from chronic mom-nesia.
It isn’t that I don’t value the moments of my life. It’s just that there are just so damn many of them.
Here, in no particular order, is a sampling of things I will surely forget from last week:
Eating—so much eating. And then cleaning up after eating. Oatmeal and salad and pizza and cheeseburgers and French fries that weren’t any good and a few that were truly terrible. Half of a sandwich I only ate because there weren’t any other choices. A couple of possibly memorable tacos and a couple of mediocre ones.
Cleaning. I swear I cleaned my living room every day this week and every day it just. kept. sprouting more stuff to put away.
Watching. I saw a couple of movies (American Fiction, Guys and Dolls) and watched a bit of TV. We finished Ted Lasso with the kids. Bittersweet, as none of us want to say goodbye to those characters. But I won’t remember much from these episodes in a few months.
Running. I got a few runs in on a favorite trail this week thanks to a camp that dropped-off nearby. But I won’t remember jogging under the majestic oaks or towering pines. (I might remember gasping at a few lines of my audiobook though?)
Reading. So many words chewed, swallowed, digested, and now flowing away. No idea what, if anything, will “stick” (besides the heartbreak of Natasha’s broken engagement in War and Peace! See above: gasps while running).
Funny conversations. With my bestie, with my kids, with my husband. Dozens of quips, come and forgotten just as quickly.
Hugs, squeezes, winks. So many little gestures we shared throughout the days that conveyed “I’m here. I care.”
The list of things I will forget is far longer than the list of things I will remember. I probably won’t even remember much of two very powerful moments that happened this week:
My baby leaving elementary school for good.
And my son singing a tender and touching “Edelweiss” as Captain Von Trapp in a performance of The Sound of Music.
I suppose I can forgive myself for forgetting so much when I remember: Life does not exist for the fulfillment of Future Me.
There is no such thing as hoarding up joys now in order to unpack lasting bliss later. That’s not how life works.
Now is for now. Not for later. So “remembering” the things that are happening now isn’t really the point.
My hilarious, curious, spirited tweens are here for Right Now Me to enjoy. And whatever they are later on down the road will be something for Future Me to experience and treasure.
If I’m lucky, they’ll forgive Future Me for all of my forgetting.
But probably not until they develop their own dad or mom-nesia.
Some Questions for Your In-Between Times:
What do you think you’ll remember, if anything from this week? How do you make your peace with “forgetting”?
First yes gasp about Natasha. And second I love this piece. Because I forget so much too and I try to remember but it doesn’t work. The idea of letting it be enough for now Me is brilliant! ❤️