It finally feels like spring in New York, and warm sunny weather makes me nostalgic. I don’t have one particular favorite childhood memory, but I do have a few that often come to mind in the spring and summer. I have one specific memory of being on vacation in South Carolina when I was about 8 and my parents letting me explore outside by myself at dusk. I found a bunch of tiny crabs near a creek that I played with; then I remember going back to the house and eating a big bowl of chocolate ice cream.
As parents we plan elaborate parties and amazing vacations, but it is the small things that children remember when we ask them--the tradition of free cone day at the local ice cream shop, picking flowers in the garden, taking silly pictures at the park, and mom going down the TALL slide.
Congratulations, Mama! And thank you for your newsletter the other day. It came at quite a time. We've been on the fence about a 3rd kid for a while, and your question about what I WANTED the research to say was really helpful. (Well, WE weren't on the fence. I was. My husband was solidly in the more-kids camp.) So now I'm fretting about 3 kids in a 3-bedroom house ;-)
And you are right about this. My kids get jazzed about everyday things, so I try to keep it simple and not overplan or overschedule us.
My grandparents lived on a dairy and we had the run of the place. So many hours, days, weeks were spent exploring every corner of those acres. My grandparents were a constant, solid presence in my childhood. I’m so fortunate to have a granddaughter now and I want to be the same thing for her.
We had these huge forsythia bushes in our front yard and in the summer they kind of made a cave underneath because the branches sort of grew up and over and once covered in green leaves, no one could see you in there! My sister and I loved to play in there, making little villages for our smurf figures out of twigs.
I also have a very strong memory of the summer I was 9, moving into our house and laying on my new bed in the center of my room because we were painting the walls (pale lavender), drinking water out of twizzler straws and reading my favorite library book, Alanna: The First Adventure, by Tamora Pierce over and over and over. I probably checked that book out every other week so I could read it again!
And summer memories always included YMCA day camp, where my mom was the aquatic director and my sister and I were first campers, then counselors. I always have these memories of walking back to our car together at the end of the day, smelling heavily of chlorine and getting into the sunwarmed car that felt so good when our hair was wet from swimming. I still can't smell chlorine without getting YMCA flashbacks.
Some of my favorite memories were exploring the neighborhood with the other neighborhood kids. We had a "lake" (glorified pond b/c suburban Atlanta), a creek, some woods, and about a milliondy pine trees (again, Georgia). We made mud pies and pretended there were scary things in the woods that we could be brave about.
So, I don't know if it's real or the power of suggestion here, but most of the responses so far have been about outdoor exploration without adults. Something to think about in our anxious world where we can't let our kids out of our sight until they're, like, driving.
As parents we plan elaborate parties and amazing vacations, but it is the small things that children remember when we ask them--the tradition of free cone day at the local ice cream shop, picking flowers in the garden, taking silly pictures at the park, and mom going down the TALL slide.
It's so true. It's the little things!!
Congratulations, Mama! And thank you for your newsletter the other day. It came at quite a time. We've been on the fence about a 3rd kid for a while, and your question about what I WANTED the research to say was really helpful. (Well, WE weren't on the fence. I was. My husband was solidly in the more-kids camp.) So now I'm fretting about 3 kids in a 3-bedroom house ;-)
And you are right about this. My kids get jazzed about everyday things, so I try to keep it simple and not overplan or overschedule us.
My grandparents lived on a dairy and we had the run of the place. So many hours, days, weeks were spent exploring every corner of those acres. My grandparents were a constant, solid presence in my childhood. I’m so fortunate to have a granddaughter now and I want to be the same thing for her.
This sounds amazing, Annette. And I'm quite sure your granddaughter is going to have wonderful memories of her time with you.
We had these huge forsythia bushes in our front yard and in the summer they kind of made a cave underneath because the branches sort of grew up and over and once covered in green leaves, no one could see you in there! My sister and I loved to play in there, making little villages for our smurf figures out of twigs.
I also have a very strong memory of the summer I was 9, moving into our house and laying on my new bed in the center of my room because we were painting the walls (pale lavender), drinking water out of twizzler straws and reading my favorite library book, Alanna: The First Adventure, by Tamora Pierce over and over and over. I probably checked that book out every other week so I could read it again!
And summer memories always included YMCA day camp, where my mom was the aquatic director and my sister and I were first campers, then counselors. I always have these memories of walking back to our car together at the end of the day, smelling heavily of chlorine and getting into the sunwarmed car that felt so good when our hair was wet from swimming. I still can't smell chlorine without getting YMCA flashbacks.
Some of my favorite memories were exploring the neighborhood with the other neighborhood kids. We had a "lake" (glorified pond b/c suburban Atlanta), a creek, some woods, and about a milliondy pine trees (again, Georgia). We made mud pies and pretended there were scary things in the woods that we could be brave about.
So, I don't know if it's real or the power of suggestion here, but most of the responses so far have been about outdoor exploration without adults. Something to think about in our anxious world where we can't let our kids out of our sight until they're, like, driving.