What are your favorite memories of you being a child and of your child/children

[debkor]

One Of my favorite memories as a child was:  Watching Bullwinkle and loved Rocky the squirrel. 
I remember looking out the windows at the squirrels and wondering how much money it would cost to buy one till my father explained to me you can't buy one.  Then taking me to the park with peanuts as I tried to get one to be my friend and take it out of my hand  but never did. When I was older about 17 and moved with my parents to a new house there were squirrels, Millie and Willey that use to climb on the screen door for peanuts from the people who owned it before who fed them peanuts.  Only this time there was no way I was going to feed them. 

One of my most favorite times with my son was going out the back door real early in the morning to hang clothes outside on the line. Beautiful sunny morning. My little one was sitting on the stairs in his banana in PJ, PJ's (he was about three) and said Mom !!!! you hear the monkeys in the tree? It was the birds (lol).  I love that memory.

Izzy you made me think back when you wrote that post about you being the Ghost on Halloween when no one knew who you were. 

So we do have some fun/fond memories even if they were your own. 

Care to share?

Love
Deb

[Lupita]

I would have to think very hard to think about happy moments in childhood. But I can rememeber happy moments with my son. He is a pianist and he invites me to his concerts. When he comes to the stage he starts looking for me with his eyes among the public. He smiles very nicely when he sees me sitting there. That is the most pleasurable feeling I can have. I love with all my heart, to see that there is a real connection with my son, more than just the blood ties, family ties. I see that my son and I have appreciation for each other and admiration for each other. That is the most wonderful feeling.

[poetprose]

Watching Red Skelton... his tv program each week litterally gave me a reason to be happy in my childhood madness, in fact I wrote a dedication poem to him a few years ago......   



The old hobo sat and warmed his back and feet
To the heat of a pot bellyed stove
Folding the pocketless trousers he got
From listening to an old friends woe's
His shoes were used and the soles had holes
Taken from a near by garbage bin
But early one day he kindly gave them away
To a much less fortunate friend
His hair was white, uncombed and stood upright
but went flat under his smoke stack hat
Then he'd giggle and grin
from a stubbled chin
Because he liked it just like that
Yeah he liked it just like that
He dined on wine alone most of the time
Eating pork and beans from a tin can
And with contrite care he'd always motion a prayer
from his fingerless gloved hands.
He spoke but 4 words
I ever heard from a heart as big as his vest
Just before he passed away on my television he did say
Good night and God Bless

Dedicated to Red Skeleton, who gave me a reason to smile in a time when i needed it

[poetprose]

Another happy moment was playing in the sandbox with my son

"Sandbox Memories"

Seems like only yesterday
I bought you a toy truck and we made roads in the sand
We played like we were best friends, my precious little man
And when monsters appeared in your dreams at night
It brought such pain into my heart
Knowing I could not battle them
so we sat and hugged in the dark
When the first day of school arrived
The tears ran down our face
We knew we would have to seperate
from our safe place
Your friends now play a major roles
In your growing years
And I must admit i miss those times
I kissed away your tears
Hugs and kisses embaress you now
because you are a teen
so I sneak into your room at night
and while you are asleep
I wonder who you will be
when you become a full adult with wife and family
My son who I call Michael
has turned a teen today
And has blessed me with so many wonderful memories
from a sandbox just yesterday...

[debkor]

You Go Girls,


See that's what I mean!!!!

They are there.  Not the ones parents gave you or not gave you.  The ones that were yours *just all yours*  Even if it was thinking back to acting out like Girl from U.N.C.L.E.  Yes I was a secret agent as a kid.  Wow thats an old show I'm showing my age now.

Even the ones that my son like the *monkey story* is mine all mine as an adult.  I related to his words *as a kid* thinking I would think they were monkeys too if I was three. I was a kid through his words and boy was it a hella fun.


Poet
I remember Red Skeleton too.  I loved that show.  I also remember having a strep throat and watching the Ed Sullivan Show when the Beetles made their 1st appearance on it.
I also remember that medicine tasting really good and tried to get some more for myself until my mother caught me and almost fainted.  Thank God I poured it out onto wax paper and tried to eat it with a fork.

Ami,
I also remember in adolescence saying No to drugs that my friends were taking and feeling real good about it.  I had no pressure and knew who I was and would not do something I didn't want to. 
That kind of left me for a bit when I was  married (not the drugs) but the pressure of staying when I really knew I shouldn't  but I do feel like that again,( Me ) and so will you. Why? cause it is you and  you just got a little lost somewhere but your looking!!! cause you know it's still there and want it back.

What I think I'm saying is, there are so many lonely memories, bad memories that come to surface, Dig deep to the ones they could not ruin for you and let them surface too.  The ones that make you smile.
Like my squirrels, Poets Red Skeleton, Ami not hitchhiking and plain out No.
Maybe the one where in your head you were thinking *F U* as they were carrying on blah blah blah.  Boy did I think I was the rebel although I dare not say it.  Now I look at my kids and think, hmm,  I bet I know what you are thinking.

Love
Deb

[isittoolate]

I remember the first day I felt that my mother acted like a mother, and I was proud of her.

This is an important memory because it happened only once, this feeling.

We had moved from the old farm to a new one and were making new friends. When Halloween came around, after all the kids had been trick or treating, they were invited back to our place for a party.

My mom had goodies and decorartions and games She was right into the feeling and I remember the one game in particular (I was eight)Everyone in the kitchen, with the door closed was eligible to try this. Others were in the dining room to help Mom.

Ready to try? OK!!! Open the kitchen door and look at the floor, oh so many obstacles. Now memorize because you MUST cross the whole dining room floor without touching an item, while blindfolded!! Close door! Get blindfolded and then.............. Go!

Step carefully, leg up.... toe down carefully.... across the floor.

You made it through!! and hadn't touched a thing !You are the BIG WINNAH! Take off your blindfold to see an empty floor---all items were picked up by Mom's helpers before you even began your journey.

i sure would like a video of that!

My youngest sister also remembers the day that mom was a MOM!

[poetprose]

>>>They are there.  Not the ones parents gave you or not gave you.  The ones that were yours *just all yours*  <<<<

I think these memories are so important to us is because they were actually events which elevated us from the rough times as kids, or that they were something to hang onto when everything arround us was so kaotic and painful..... although I do have memories of my childhood with my family , the majority of them are almost always *clouded* with pain and hurt and abuse

so to be able to find something to hold onto , apart from the madness gave us hope and joy if even for a short time.....

glad you asked that question Deb..... thx

[Overcomer]

My favorite times where Christmas and church camp.  I also loved watch once a year Wizard of Oz, Charlie Brown specials, and other yearly tv programs.  My sophomore year in high school was cool until I was betrayed and my mom did not defend me. 

[Hopalong]

((((((Ami))))) now you're making yourself sane.

Favorite memory:
Learning to walk on stilts when we were visiting friends in England when I was 10. I had always been the tiniest person in my class (pecking order) and my brother (abusive) was tall, etc...

Once they showed me how, they coudln't get me off them. I walked around the lane on those stilts until I wore out my armpits.

Hops

[Hopalong]

How wonderful that you had such an earthy, loving grandma, CB.
A lightbulb...this is one reason you're such a great Mom. You had nurturing!

You have that same grounded quality. I can imagine you comforting a child or an animal or creating a home with that same grounded, centered energy.

Aw. Makes me happy to think of your grandma knowing what you needed.

And you had six. Lucky kids.
I'm going to hop to your other thread but I do want to hear more about the job!


Hops

[Margo]

I have magical memories of ponies at my Grandparent's farm and the tipsy Sheriff who came to play Santa in that too bright cameral light my Grandfather wielded to capture the magic.... and there was plenty of magic.  I remember my Grandma making everyone their favorite pies, mine was grape, Sister's was butterscotch and little brother's was chocolate.  I remember going into the basement, down the gray painted cement stairs, into cool clean musty smells where the washing machine sat next to a big sink.... the coal room was down there too.... and an area blanketed off that held shelves and shelves of stuff.  Stuffed pheasants my grandfather had shot and horse show trophy after horse show trophy.  Tons of stuff that my grandfather loved and collected and carefully placed there.  He had so much stuff he built small building after building attached to the barn to fill.... after filling the attic room and the basement, lol.  There was a fridge with orange and grape pop in that basement next to a tv that usually had red skelton on.  Furniture covered in clean softy blankets you can't buy anywhere now.  I treasure the ones I managed to end up with.  Chenille and indian printed things..... some solid but such nice soft cotton.  Some very thin, worn through now.

 Easter egg hunts under huge oaks and blue robin's eggs we tried to hatch ourselves.  Kittens in the barn and the smell of well cared for horses...... and stuff, lol.  Tools. Tools and more tools.  Some my grandfather made to do jobs he spent hours preparing for and minutes executing.

The sandpile with the horse troph next to it.  So many Daddy Long Leg spiders and mud pie memories.  I ate homeade playdough there.... flavored with wintergreen.  I've never gotten over my revulsion of all things winter green, lol.  Grandma's garden and the smell of her spigot next to the front door where it was shadowy and mossy.  Lawchairs in the grass at sunset.... horseshoes and lightening bugs through the old northern pine trees.  Why is green so much greener in Ohio and Finland? 

There was a pond next to our house, that was black shingled and had an orchard in the rear of the property.  Tad poles and hundreds of little tiney frogs between Grandma Bingo's house and ours.  She was a neighbor but we called her Grandma Bingo.  She had tall tall sunflowers next to a porch swing.  She made wonderful tarts and it pained me when my sister ate one that was supposed to be mine.  My mother found me sitting next to that woman, patting her hand and comforting her, she.... propped up against her mailbox near the road, slumped over from a stroke.  She was never the same after that. 

I remember the sound of the fan in our bedroom window, we didn't have central AC.  Now.... I sleep with some noisy fan sound or I don't sleep.

My best memories with my girls were bringing home my second child and feeling so happy I could burst.  Creating sacred space for my oldest child in a new bedroom and enjoying finding her there, peacefully being comfortable and busy there. Spending time with her doing her fingers and toes... grooming rituals. 

Reading to my oldest daughter from infancy up.... walking them next to their cribs before bed as a ritual..... changing their diapers as a ritual.  Taking care in all the little details that fill a day with a child.  Lifting them up from their crib, all sleepy and curled like a kitten..... kissing a forhead then cuddling her close before wiping sleepy bugs out of her eyes, like my Grandma used to do for me.  It was all walking meditation for me and I embraced every aspect of it.  I'm sure becoming a mother and figuring out parenting all alone made it much harder to see what was happening in my marriage.  ::shudder::  And what wasn't.  I was happy when he didn't come home.  Happier.... when he didn't come home.  I had my girls and and he made it very difficult to tend to their needs when he was home.  He didn't want to share me with them.

I could go on and I guess I will..... filling big tubs out on the bedroom porch and bathing them in the sunlight.  Watching them run around in their little terry cloth foot in jammies that made them resemble tele tubbies.... yes, they were both bald, just like I was.  Looking down at their little faces as they raised their little hands to be picked up.  My oldest dragging her little pink elephant everywhere she went, tucked under her arm as she crawled on her forearms and stomach..... my brother said she carried him like a little wounded buddie.  She still has that elephant, worn through and patched and worn through again.... hardly pink.    Though she doesn't need him she'll want him if she can't find him. 

I don't know if this can be considered a good memory but...... it was a blessing to have the girls at funerals.  It made that time bearable where before..... it wasn't.  I don't think we should have to go to funerals without babies.  It seems a moral imperative somehow.

Recent favorite memories include leisurly bath times begun and finished on a clean warmed marble tiled floor.  Enjoying a bath with my youngest dd who says the most unexpected and surpising things.  Waking up with a child snuggled into my side.  Listening to Lena practice the piano happily.  Listening to my 4yo humm around the house, content..... always humming. 

This leads to the next question..... what will be my remembered pleasures to come?  Something to think about. 

Margo

[Margo]

Watching Red Skelton... his tv program each week litterally gave me a reason to be happy in my childhood madness, in fact I wrote a dedication poem to him a few years ago......   



The old hobo sat and warmed his back and feet
To the heat of a pot bellyed stove
Folding the pocketless trousers he got
From listening to an old friends woe's
His shoes were used and the soles had holes
Taken from a near by garbage bin
But early one day he kindly gave them away
To a much less fortunate friend
His hair was white, uncombed and stood upright
but went flat under his smoke stack hat
Then he'd giggle and grin
from a stubbled chin
Because he liked it just like that
Yeah he liked it just like that
He dined on wine alone most of the time
Eating pork and beans from a tin can
And with contrite care he'd always motion a prayer
from his fingerless gloved hands.
He spoke but 4 words
I ever heard from a heart as big as his vest
Just before he passed away on my television he did say
Good night and God Bless

Dedicated to Red Skeleton, who gave me a reason to smile in a time when i needed it

Awwwww.... I remember Red Skelton too..... and I really enjoyed your poem; ) Margo

[Margo]

My best memories were with my grandma on the farm.  Running wild from the moment I stepped out of the car from the long drive from the city.  The feeling of talc-like dust between my bare toes.  Ice cold creek water and catching tadpoles.  Running through the woods and finding the remains of an old house foundation from 100 years before.  Riding the donkey around the barn lot while she tried to bite my toes.

At the end of every long day, my grandma would let me lie across her lap while she rubbed my aching legs with "liniment".  I dont ever remember taking an aspirin.  My only pain relief (figuratively as well) was grandma's determined hands, rubbing the pain out of my legs. 

CB

My mother's mother had healing hands.  Her fingers were knarled from arthritis and pointing in everying direction but her voice and her hands were so soothing.  And we'd laugh and laugh and laugh with that Grandma... at all sorts of things.  And she'd buy us Vampirella comic books and let us drink coffee.  She wasn't the Grandma on the farm, which was my dad's mother.  Margo

[Hopalong]

Wow. I so wish I'd had a loving grandma.

My Dad's mother died before I was before born; my mother's mother I have one memory of...she was staying with us briefly and was walking down the upstairs hall away from me, and her silver hair was down to her waist. I thought it was beautiful. I know she was gentle, but that's all I remember.

I had a nice step-grandma, very emotional, charismatic religion. She told me after my preacher-g'pa died, "Out of all his grandchildren your grandfather loved you best. And he has passed on his MANTLE to YOU!"

Aaarrk. Years later I felt able to accept that when I decided that poetry made me an orator of sorts, and in that way I wasn't the complete alien on the family tree. Years later still, I found out he had sexually abused his daughters. Thank god he never touched me that way. But he did write me a spate of urgent, verse-quoting letters shortly before he died.

I know I would have loved my father's father. He cared for his paralysed wife, loyally and patiently, for 13 years before she died.

Well, I hope one day I'll be lucky enough to be a grandmother too. And if not, I'll borrow the role.

Thanks for those scenes from your childhoods, CB, Margo...loved the images of those kind women. And Margo, what dazzling rich memories you are creating for them. How lucky they are.

Hops

[mountainspring]

One of my favorite memories of my children was around Christmas time one year.  We were putting the tree up and the girls always argue over who gets to put what ornament up.  We have a 3/4 wall in the living room where I use to put a  medium sized stuffed Santa.  Well….. they started up and I told them to stop several times, then I told them Santa was watching them and they better be good and pointed to the stuffed Santa.  My youngest daughter said no he’s not, I said yes he is, she said no mommy he’s not….  I poked his eyes out… he can’t see a thing!!!   I got the ladder back out and looked at poor Santa…. he had no eyes!!  I still have that Santa.

Another favorite memory is when I had my oldest daughter.  My 9 year old son came in the room and he was so excited he couldn’t sit still.  He kept jumping up and down ….  I have a sister, look mommy I have a sister.  He had been an only child until then.

And when my son was in preschool they were teaching him the pledge.  We were practicing it at home and he said I pwedge awwegience to the fwag of the United States of Amewica, and to the  pwoblems for which it stands……

And my husband was mowing the lawn one year and my youngest daughter wanted to know why he had “fur” on his chest and would she ever grow any.