I Remember...

The way he pushed his butt up under my ribcage and straightened his knees out so I could barely breath. Pushing and rubbing on his bottom through the tight skin of my stomach in an effort to get him to relax.

Pacing the floors with him at the hospital in tears because I was convinced he didn't want me for a mother. (because he was crying, as newborns do.)

I remember...

Wincing each time he latched on to my tender breasts, and the way he would only eat until the hunger pains subsided and then fall asleep, only to wake up hungry once again in about 30 minutes.

Him being the noisiest nurser I have ever encountered, even to this day.

The callus he developed on his upper lip.

I remember...

How he wanted so much to be like mommy that he gave up his bottle @ a year and potty trained himself @ eighteen months.

His smile when he woke from his naps and him riding his tricycle down the stairs from the second floor.

The way he escaped from the apartment by precariously stacking the dining room chair, his playschool chair and a couple of phone books to climb up to the deadbolt. Only to be found naked in a mud puddle two apartments down. At seven A.M.... When he was eighteen months old.

I distinctly remember being sure I was the only mother who couldn't keep up with her child or out smart him. Knowing now he was anything but an ordinary child.

I remember....

His first day of kindergarten and him telling the teacher he already knew how to write his name and count. Making it clear she was going to have to do better than that if she wanted to keep his interest.

How his intellect was his gift and his curse all rolled into one confusing bundle for which no child could be prepared.

I remember how sweet he was, how worried he would get if I was crying, as even adults are prone to do on occasion. Especially young mothers who are stressed and trying to grow up with their children.

I remember....

Catching him, his brother Tanner, and his cousin Michael playing star wars in the bathroom. Complete with urine streams as light sabers.

Frequently getting up on Saturday mornings to find the yard mowed and edged just because he wanted let his father and I relax.

Him showing up at my job and throwing me on his back and spinning me around in circles 'till I was dizzy. How we laughed and were completely undignified and how incredibly loved and special I felt.

I remember...

He was such a bright and shining light you would do almost anything to be in his glow. Somehow the world was colder and less hospitable without his warmth, and yet, sometimes he burned so hot it was painful.

I guess the point to this post is.... I remember. The minutes, the moments, the good, the bad and the ugly. I spend inordinate amounts of time spinning the memories 'round and 'round my head in a frenzied fear of forgetting. Perhaps if I start taking a few moments of that time to write them down, a few at a time, I can let go of trying to constantly re-play them, knowing they are recorded somewhere and won't be lost. Perhaps it will take the pressure off of me to be the memory keeper for my five month old grandson who will someday want to know his father.