You always think you’re going to remember every minute of this moment, like they will live in our memory until the end.
You think your brain will have enough room to fit all of these memories and all of the intricate details that come with the whole memory. But you don’t. Things get forgotten and lost. The memory stays but the details fizzle. You remember the memory was beautiful but not why.
When we were almost ready to have Rafaella, my friend, Gina, with her own young child commented that starting a blog was a great way to remember as many of these moments as I could because with all of the sleepless nights and days compounding into one I’d be lucky if I remembered my age.
I’m 33 and that wouldn’t happen to me. I am an elephant – in memory ability, not size – although at 36 weeks pregnant, one could argue…
But I quickly found out that no one is safe from forgetting even the most amazing of memories or the most mundane of details.
I thought about this this morning sitting with Rafa in our ritual breakfast routine. We were talking – as best as you can with a 16 month old and I thought:
When did that happen? When did she become aware of what some things are? When did she become a kid that I could ask to get me something and she knows what I’m talking about? Or when did she become the kid that could tell me to “abrir” and know that that meant “to open.”
And for a moment I had to think about what her first word was. What was it again???
Then I remembered. “Meow.”
Interesting choice of first word considering we don’t have a cat in our two dogged home and I, for sure, thought her first word would be smoothie or yogurt or something food related.
And then I remembered Gina.
Write this down.
Because these moments seem so big and are so momentous but they get lost in the shuffle of years and time and phases and old age and other momentous memories that are equally as big but more recent.
And I want to remember how beautifully she pronounces “up” when she wants to be carried; popping that p sound at you, emphasizing that letter with her pouty lips, head tilted to the side with questioning intonation but nodding in agreement as if to answer for you that indeed you will pick her up. There’s so much beauty in that word right now that was never there before and it would be a crime, sinful really, to forget that.
You are right, Aerosmith, I don’t want to miss a thing, but what good is not missing a thing if you can’t remember it? And considering that some times I have to think about what year it is to remember how old I am and that sometimes I can’t remember what year we’re in, well, I have a feeling my elephant memory is going to need some help.
Rafa’s Vocabulary at 16 Months
– abrir (pronounced a beer)
– mismo (meaning the same, pronounced mee-mooooo)
– no,no,no (this could be considered english but her pronunciation and
sassy finger usage have categorized this in the spanish list
– pio pio (sound a bird makes)
– zapatos (shoes)
– bien (pronounced ben)
– Manny (thanks Handy Manny laptop!)
-Shelly (her nanny – pronounced Elly)
– Tia / Tio
– meow (sound a cat makes)
– woo woo woo (sound a dog makes)
– Olive (name of Dog #1)
– Jersey (name of Dog #2)
– book (pronounced boo)
– Yaya (for Tia Yaya – Shayna)
– Oui (French for yes – thank you Shelly)
– Au revoir (pronounced Avua)