I’ve learned over the last three years so much more than I’d
ever suspected has to be hereditary. I
wasn’t surprised about the physical aspects at all. Personality, I was less surprised by, even if
it does knock me off my feet every so often leading me to offer up profuse
apologies to my parents. While I haven’t
been surprised, these things have made me wonder about other things we inherit
from our parents. When Kennedy eats
spicy things without complaining, or scoffs at chocolate choosing strawberry
every time, it makes me think taste preferences have got to be also. More than anything, the last five months have
me wondering so often: are memory capabilities inherited too? I have clear memories going back to when I
couldn’t have been older than two. Some
are really good memories and some are not.
If Kennedy inherits my long-term memory, what will be the things she
remembers? Will there be more good
memories than bad? Will the memories she
has of these times be happy ones? Maybe
she will remember nothing of this time, but if she does, my mission this past
week was to try and create some standout good ones. Memories that include her mommy and daddy
smiling just as big as she was.
One thing I will state very clearly is that not inherited
from her mother is the desire to sleep in a tent outdoors. One of Sean’s aunts bought Kennedy a princess
sleeping bag and ever since the child has relentlessly insisted that we go
camping. I have never been a good camper,
going back to my very first camping experience with girl scouts that entailed
tucking my jeans into my socks to the time I got my first speeding ticket on my
way to God’s country to the last time I went and our tent leaked because it
torrentially down-poured. I firmly
believe the sarcastic and facetious term ‘happy camper’ was created with gals
like me in mind. And yet when Kennedy
started talking about going and asking to buy a tent and mini lantern every
single time we were in Target (as in every other day) I agreed. Remember, I’m attempting to build some great
memories for the kid. We decided it
would be gentler on both Kennedy and Mommy to ease into camping and give it a test run in the backyard.
It was a success. Hardly roughing
it, but a success nonetheless.
We luckily got the “camping trip” in midweek before the rain
set in for the next few days. Then we
got some TV in; a lot of TV. If I turned
into a couch potato, she was my tater tot. She’s got
an imagination, I’ll give her that, so often our TV time involves live action
role playing, even if it is half dressed. So when my parents and the sunshine arrived a few days later we were
anxious to get out and enjoy both of their company. We visited my favorite little town and got
some sandwiches and made our way to the park that is home to a nice old
carousel. Kennedy took her grandparents
for the first ride where I watched my short mother climb up on a horse that
finished its’ last ride in the high position and my dear old dad accidentally
remove one of these antique equine’s tail.
Kennedy laughed, probably more because I was laughing so hard at my
awkward aging moments, but she laughed in any case and I’ll take it.
During lunch, though I warned him if he started they’d come
in droves, my dad insisted that he and Kennedy feed the ducks their bread
crusts. Well us girls got quite a kick
out of watching the man try to lose his new posse, let me tell you. She’s talked about daily since. In my opinion, another win for the memory
bank.
We had talked up the upcoming 4th of July
festivities for days and so when the rain rolled in unexpectedly and we weren’t
able to go to my sister’s house for some good old fashioned American fun,
including their newly refinished pool, BBQ, and some newly permissible
fireworks. None of us were happy, least
of all me who had been craving a hot dog all week. We made adjustments to out plans and decided
to grab some KFC (that’s American cuisine, no?) and go to a local fireworks
display. I was pumped; there are few
things I enjoy more than fancy firework shows.
When we got there little “miss hard to impress” just wanted my iPhone (I know, we’ve ruined her) but she did give a few “oohs” and “aahs” when she could be
bothered to look up. All in all she
wasn’t thrilled and we were praying it wouldn’t rain again the next day for the
rescheduled day of fun.
I attempted a Pinterest recipe this morning. Epic. Fail.
Apparently when you have neither the knowledge base nor the inclination
to make cherry pie filling from scratch AND attempt to make it the least bit
healthy but purchasing the store bought, light version all you get is a recipe
for disaster. They looked pretty and
delicious but these suckers had no taste to back up the good looks. Not only did they taste bad but the
aftertaste was downright offensive.
Needless to say they didn’t make the trip to the party.
On our way, we stopped by Jack’s spot to bring him some red,
white and blue daisies. Hard as I tried,
I couldn’t help but think how unfair it felt that instead of dressing my baby
boy in the obligatory “Frist 4th of July” clothes and bibs I had to
settle for patriotic flowers for his grave.
Another first we didn’t have with him and as unimportant as it may seem
in terms of days and firsts, it doesn’t soften the blow any. As I walked back to the car, I promised
myself I would enjoy the day for what it was: a day to enjoy with family.
God gave us a break too and some sun our way, albeit with
some heat and brutal humidity- but beggars can’t be choosers. It was all worth it because the kids had a
great time, making their first big, unassisted swims across a pool (heavily
water-safety-device-clad of course), “fishing” in a tub of water, making
s’mores, watching some small firecrackers Gramps had picked up and giving
Sparklers a try for the first time. Us
big kids had a pretty ok time too.
Kennedy left filthy dirty, overtired, and crying that she was going to
miss her cousins; all a measure of a great day.
So I guess what it all comes down to is: Will some really
fun times be enough to make my beautifully empathetic and loving baby girl stop
asking me if I’m sad or if I miss baby Jack too much because she forgets how
sad we’ve been? I hope that if she does
happen to inherit my memory ability and she has flashes back to these times it
will be good, happy memories that include smiling faces, laughter. Hell, I’d even settle for memories of a
little good-natured trouble making. Here’s
to hoping.
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