My 23 year old son, Jack, was here for a week and it was magnificent. He wrastled with his younger brother and taught him new drum riffs. He met Lexi’s new boyfriend and scared the poop out of him then teased Lexie till she disappeared into her room. He helped his dad cut and grill steaks and he hung out with me. He sat on the couch or layed down in my bed while I watched the morning news and drank coffee. He played new songs for me on the guitar and I actually cried. then, he and Mary, his 22 year old sister, even went and got tattoos together (how sweet is that?…gagging noises)And it was all beautiful.
What’s weird though, is when we talk about growing up Hampo, which we do all the time cause it’s funny as Hell, Jack remembers some of the fights and tears that naturally come along with six people in one pretty small house. He remembers the year Mary came home after dropping out of college (she’s pre-med now). And he says Mary and I fought “all the time” that year. He remembers the angst(ok, he did write some bad and sad poetry when he was 14) and how hard it was when he and Mary were teenagers and didn’t get along for three years. Jack remembers bad teachers and tests grades, crying when we had to bury dead dogs that we loved all kinds of sad sad stuff.
Me? Apparently I’m the dancing fool because I don’t remember anything unpleasant unless someone works super hard to remind me. If you looked in my brain I think it probably resembles an Easter Basket, lots of pretty colors, candy, Peeps and plastic grass. For the most part I only remember the joy and silliness.
I remember laughing so hard with Mary and Jack in the car, that I had to pull over so I wouldn’t wreck. I remember Jack getting kicked out of school for having crazy hair. I remember Mary crying when the Pink Ranger left the Power Rangers and the Christmas Alex pawned his guns so we could afford gifts. But in my mind, all that is stunning and beautiful. Life has been a basket full of candy and Peeps. And I guess, with my skewed and misshapen memory, I’m the luckiest woman in the world.
2 thoughts on “Apparently In Hampoland There Were Sad Days, But I Don’t Remember”
I often wonder what my kids are going to remember of growing up Cardiogirl (I’m still repressed in the blogosphere and I’m afraid to use my real last name.) My oldest is 11 and it feels like we only communicate by arguing. Grr.
My younger two are much more mellow but I hear age 13 is quite a pill, so maybe their time is coming (they’re 8 and 5.) Your house still sounds like fun to me.
All the kids are soooo different. jack, remembers all that dark and moody stuff. None of the other children have a clue what he’s talking about. My youngest dughter is 14 and we are having a blast!. i was about to write a blog about Lexie, he’s awesome at everything in her life, way over achiever, except band. She’sa lways last band last chair, super sucky horn player and that’s just fine with me. i’m so glad you got the big bug out of your husbands ear!
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