A Smell of a Memory

Ahhhh, summer.  Blue skies, monkey in the middle, running through the sprinkler in the side yard.  When I think back to the hot, humid summers of my childhood, all of these things come to mind, but they’re not the first memory to emerge.  Before all of those thoughts, comes the earthy scent of freshly cut grass.  I hear the mower, I see my Dad, I smell that distinct, just-cut grass smell.  To me, that scent has always signaled freedom:  freedom from school schedules and cliquey groups; freedom to play and swim; freedom to read and dream; freedom to just be.

My childhood summers, mind you, weren’t spent in one place.  I didn’t have one of those childhoods where I made fast friends with a girl in kindergarten, endured the middle school years with her, then hugged her dramatically as we graduated twelve years later.  I did meet a new girl in kindergarten, and another in second, and fourth, and sixth, and ninth, and however many more you want to throw into the mix.  It was more of a vagabond sort of childhood, but my family was stable and sensible and we made the very best of it.  And one of the things that remained constant through all of the change, through the new schools and new friends and new towns, was the grassy smell of freedom, signaling the endless days ahead, all mine for the lounging.

There are other memories, to be sure.  We mostly lived in the south and I treasure the years at the beach, walking as far as I could along the shore, looking out beyond the farthest waves, considering all of the possibilities of life.  In high school, my girlfriends and I would slather on the baby oil and hit the pool, at once completely sure of ourselves and completely unnerved by the coolness of everyone else.  My grandparents and extended family lived in Pennsylvania, and I would go, for a week or two at a time, and spend time with family there, building priceless relationships with my cousins and aunts and uncles.

My summer memories are an amalgam of all of these things; I almost cannot separate them.  And, always, when I think back, the memories are scented with that grassy smell of freedom.

-Kirsetin

For this week’s Blog Blast, the Parent Bloggers Network is asking us to share our memories of our family’s summers.  To participate, click here for details.  You can win prizes from Huggies Little Swimmers, including beach towels, pool toys, and of course, Huggies Little Swimmers products.

I Wish I Would Have Known...

Before I had kids, I read every book about birth and parenting I could get my hands on.  I knew that I would be tired, that life would never be the same, and that having a baby would change our family dynamic in an unalterable way. 

I knew these things, but I didn’t really know them.

I knew, for example, that I’d be tired but I didn’t know how hard being utterly exhausted would be.  When my first baby was new, I remember desperately wanting a little more sleep, and feeling incredibly, unforgivably selfish because of it.  I wish that someone had told me I might feel this way, and that it was okay.

I also knew that life would never be the same, but I had no idea what “not really the same” meant.  I didn’t understand that my world would shift so completely from a self-centered focus to a what’s-best-for-my-child focus.  I wish that someone would have shared that at times that shift would seem completely logical, and at others, it would be incredible difficult.

I knew that babies cry and toddlers throw tantrums and five-year olds test independence.  But I didn’t know that I’d be really good at handling some of these, and not so good at others.  I wish someone had told me that every phase is only that: a phase that will pass before you know it.

I knew that there would be more laundry.  And there is.

Everyone did tell me, of course, that time would fly.  But in the midst of diapers and baby food, I couldn’t really comprehend it.  Now there are no more diapers and no more high chairs.  Those cute overalls have been replaced by Hollister t-shirts and ripped up jeans.  I feel like the film is on fast-forward, and sometimes I can’t find the pause button.  I hope someone will help me figure out where it is.

-Kirsetin

Kirsetin wrote this post to participate in the Blog Blast on the Blog Exchange, which is sponsored this week by Discovery Health and their new series "Deliver Me."