MEMORIES

Everything changes, nothing stays the same. Today I found out that both my favourite tinted moisturiser and eye makeup remover have been discontinued. Luckily I was able to buy the last of the stock of the eye makeup remover, so I have enough to last me the next two years until I find a suitable replacement. Shame you can’t stock up memories of the kids in the same way. I know they are growing and changing, but somehow I can’t seem to bank any of the memories. Sure we have photos, video, tape-recordings, drawings, scribblings, old clothes and shoes – a thousand reminders of how they were, but I just can’t remember anything other than yesterday, and that at a pinch.

The other day I got a film back from the developers and to my delight it was one taken some one and half years ago. But, as I gazed at the infant faces beaming out at me, I realised, to my regret, that I had absolutely no recollection of the time when it was taken. Indeed, I don’t remember at all what Olly was like as a baby, how he felt or smelt or sounded. And, despite the hell of Bill’s first year with us, there is not even the faintest echo of feeling inside of me that recalls that time. When I look at video of them they could be anybody’s children. Is that really me grinning back at me? I wonder.

I’ve spoken to a couple of my pals about this and both of them agree that they cannot get any sort of handle on the previous few years, despite them being some of the most intense of their lives. Mind you, it at least goes some way to explaining the amnesia that both our mothers seem to have regarding how either Steve or I were as children. Perhaps it is a general malaise that affects all mothers, perhaps we are living so much in the moment that the part of the brain that stores memory just doesn’t have time to lay anything down.

As the children continue to thrive and grow I feel an increasing sense of panic about the inevitable loss that I will experience of their childhood. Because, if I can’t remember it, then I only have the mementos and they are just not enough. So, I have been trying to imprint some experiences on my mind recently, it’s something I used to do as a kid. When something particularly special or wonderful was happening I would screw up my eyes and try to press the image into the back of my mind. I can still summon up a few of those key moments if I try. But unlike when I was a child the key moments are coming far too thick and fast for me to choose. It’s not just a case of the Christmas, birthdays, hot summer days and winter snow that coloured my childhood, these days I have a million wonderful moments crammed into every day. So I think I shall give myself a break and try just to remember faces and cuddles, breath and smell of hair and the sound of their laughs and footfall in the hall. As for the rest, I guess I’ll just keep writing it down. 

Quote of the week:

Billie anxiously looking at a picture of Olly as a baby with what is now her toy rabbit:

“Am this my rabbit now is it?”

My mates 7 and 8 year olds yelling at their 4 year old brother:

“What part of Get and Out don’t you understand”

Juliet Jones lives in domestic chaos with husband Steve, son Oliver (aged 3) and daughter Billie (aged 2) in Hertfordshire.