Do you take things too seriously? Sometimes I do. Sometimes, I get all wrapped up in issues, in thoughts, in that ever-expanding taxonomy of what-if’s and I enter a pretty serious place. But then. Then I am brought back – to life, to love, to exquisite silliness – by three little girls who do not yet know what it means to be serious.
Thank goodness.
You see the little girl above? The one who’s skipping in her sister’s dress on a city sidewalk clutching a pumpkin-colored balloon? She said something to me recently that blew me away. We were in the back of a cab and I turned to her and asked her a question: What do you want to be when you grow up? And she gave it some thought, but then looked up at me, her blue eyes blazing.
A Rememberer, she said.
And I am not a super-sentimental being, but my eyes welled up because this was so amazing. That she wants to be a person who remembers things.
Me too, kid.
And as I work on this, on trying to remember things, I will be careful to remember (yes, that word again) something. An important something. I will try to remember that remembering doesn’t always have to be a sober and serious affair. It can be, and will be at times, but remembering can also be a happy dance. It can be simple and silly and skippy. It can be as easy and breezy as an orange balloon in summer sky.
Oh, and squint. You see the bigger girl up ahead? The one with the purple balloon? Well, she recently graduated from preschool and got her yearbook. In the yearbook, she was asked the same question: What do you want to be? And her answer was singular and delighted me to no end because it was the very same answer I used to give when I was but a little thing. Her answer?
An artist.
Are you more silly or serious? Do you ever unwittingly slip into a serious place? Is remembering a happy or hard thing for you? Do you blog (or do anything else) in an effort to remember these days? What do your kids want to be when they grow up? What do you want to be when you grow up?
Lovely. A rememberer! What a marvelous answer. And an artist. Which is it’s own kind of remembering, of course – mixed in with the creating. xoxo
I know, right? I think these answers, in combination, have brought me so much joy because I am realizing more and more, again and again, that this is what blogging is – the art of remembering. We are writing stories about our days as a way of honoring the present moment, yes, but also as a way of making sure we remember it, too. I’ve been thinking so so much about the push-pull between professional and personal, writing and mothering – particularly after the Atlantic article and your beautiful follow-up to it – and I am realizing that as tricky as the dance is and will always be, my writing and thinking are enhanced, and profoundly, by these little creatures of mine. They do things and say things and bring out a side of myself… Anyway, I feel awe-filled and grateful about all of it, the tiny taxi cab moments and the big realization that this is actually my life.
Okay, rambling, but I think you get it, right?
Oh, and maybe I am evolving into a pretty emotional person, but that photo of Whit you have up on your blog. Too much. That sweet face against the swath of blue sky… Your words about first and last… Gorgeous. xxo
Thank you for this post today. It’s a day when I am taking things much too seriously. Feeling hurt and bruised by the choices I have made which have put me in a different place in life. Your post makes me remember that we’re all on our own path. There’s no one road to get to the destination. And maybe, just maybe, the destination is right here and I should be marveling about what I have and not comparing myself to other 30somethings.
Yes, we are all on our own path and there are an infinity of roads. It is so easy to compare ourselves to others (honestly I do it all the time), but I think it behooves us to be disciplined about taking stock of what we have in the present moment. I am not advocating that we stand still or give up or shy way from aspirations, but that we pause and look around and soak up today. Believe me, I know this is much easier said than done, but I think there is a majesty in trying. I’m happy to know that this post resonated with you today, Amy. As for choices? We can always look back and wish that we made different ones, but even the ones we deem wrong in retrospect should be revered on some level because they contributed to the people we are today, right? Hope your Wednesday gets a whole lot sillier! xo
What a beautiful post, Aidan. A rememberer – I love it!
I’m serious, very serious. So serious that’s it’s hard for me to relax. How did I get so lucky as to be a serious perfectionist? Within the last year I’ve realized I’d like to change this a bit. I feel like I’m missing out on some fun moments by being too serious. It’s a slow transition, but I’m positive I’ll get there.
I love the (serious) optimism in this post. I was just chatting with Husband last night about how I feel myself getting “lighter,” more silly. In the past, I would never have posted about a yellow scarf or have inserted so many smiley faces in my comments and responses. But I think that somehow in being serious about changing things about my life (like stepping away from wine), I have made more room for a less serious me. All worth thinking about. The point – albeit hazy – is that, like you, I think we can in fact change. We might be more serious creatures by nature, but that doesn’t mean we cannot work on changing, on shaking things up.
Thanks so much, Kristen!
A beautiful post, Aidan. A rememberer and an artist. You said it well to remember can be a happy dance. Love this !
Thank you, Ayala. I will not forget these answers.
My daughter wants to be “an explorer.” And she intentionally practices her exploring all the time – and says so, in so many words. I love that she brings me along on her exploring adventures wih her. It is easy to forget that grocery stores or the front yard can be places to “explore.”
This is simply beautiful. Can any parent really ask for more? It really says something wonderful that the life you’re helping her live is something she wants to remember. And you other daughter wants to create. I love it. You’re so right that remembering should sometimes be silly and skippy and not so deep. I feel like I’m losing my sense of humor. I told myself that my first year of sobriety would be about me healing. I want my second year to be about experiencing. I’ve almost reached 11 months so I need to break out my clown face! Thanks for reminding me that simple and silly is good.
What amazes me is how most kids I know have a goofy and wonderful sense of humor – and how many adults I know, while lovely and thoughtful, seem a bit humorless. It makes me wonder who these people were as children. My hunch is that we get older, and experience the range of good and bad in life, and juggle responsibilities, we all lose some of our sense of humor. This is sad, but maybe reality? But I think we should all focus on protecting the humor we have and adding to it if we can, right? 11 months? That is so so incredible. I am coming up on 6. Almost halfway there! Thanks for these words, Karen.
I gasped inside when I read your Big Girl wants to be the same thing you wanted to be when you were little- an artist. To think I could someday have a child that would go through the same phases and dreams of the future in life that I did is really neat to think about. A time when the idea of growing up means you can become anything. Somewhere along the way adults lose that as reality sets in and it makes me yearn for my childhood dreams.
I also wonder which of your girls will be the first to say they want to become a writer!
It is really amazing to think of these kids as little people who might want things we want and have dreams we have – as well as harbor their own incredibly idiosyncratic hopes. It is truly a gift for me able to witness the evolution of my girls. Sometimes, I can’t help but sit back and just watch them – the way they flit between silly and determined, the way they wrestle with new ideas and new language, the way they interact with new things. So interesting because when Big said that she wanted to be an artist – my mind immediately went to writer
Thanks so much, AG.
Too cute for words – a rememberer !! Love it ! I very much like the idea of being a rememberer and try to do this in various aspects of my life.
I always remember people’s birthdays, and wedding anniversaries, and when family or friends died (yes, that too) and I always send cards – real cards – by real mail – to a real postbox (I have a passion for ‘real’ mail and all things associated with it – was it on your blog that I read about loving stationery ?? well, I am a complete ‘paper and pen’ junkie !! I collect note/writing paper – now becoming hard to find as not much is made – wrapping paper – oh, bliss! – and cards, cards and more cards)
I get such great emails from people saying “yours was the only ‘real’ card I received on my birthday” and I have one friendship which has become very deep and very special – because every year I send my friend a card to remember the day her twin sister died some years ago (I have been deeply moved by her sharing how she feels when people ‘move on’ and forget about your loss of someone special). So, bottom line, if you make it onto my special events calendar, you will be sure to receive a card in the mail until I am no longer able to send mail or they close down the mail services completely!
I have what I like to think is a very adventurous life, as I live and work internationally, and there are many different things that I want to remember about it all – and so I’ve taken to writing what I fondly refer to as my “chapters”. I do this largely as a reminder of my travels but I do share with a wide number of friends and family members – no, not on anything as innovative as a blog – I don’t want to spend any time on a blog – just as straight pdf documents. Although I am not a writer by profession, I have found that I absolutely love the whole experience of writing. It seems to be the closest I can get to a total out-of-body experience. Hahahaha !! I write, I research, I ‘doctor’ my photographs, I redraft….. and time just seems to fly! wonderful ! Then I send. So, a rememberer I am in many ways.
And, finally, more silly than serious? I can be both but, essentially, I think I lean more towards the serious side. I like serious literature, deep and meaningful movies, complex conversations, cleanliness, honesty, good behavior, being responsible, a very neat and organised house and life……. need I say more?
Oh how I LOVE this comment. I am in awe of the fact that you remember all the important days of all of your important people and that you are thoughtful and organized enough to send physical cards. Really amazing. Sadly to say, I am more the kind of person who forgets birthdays, is delinquent about responding to emails in a timely fashion, and often drops the ball on thank-you notes completely. It is really not good and I continue to vow to work on it. Also, when I started law school years ago, I started typing EVERYTHING and have literally lost my ability to hand write anything longer than a sentence. I really think I should re-learn penmanship along with my girls. Wouldn’t that be blogworthy?
Your life and livelihood sound fascinating – and again quite different than mine. Here I am, very much tethered to home, and you are running around the globe. So sexy! Alas, a grass is greener thing perhaps. And it does indeed sound like you are a rememberer.
And this is interesting… but I am beginning to think that my writing here attracts more serious than silly folks. I think this probably makes sense because for every two or three of my lighter musings, I tend to write something a bit inky and thinky and heavy. Alas. That’s me.
So happy to have you – and your words – here!
Yes, I think it’s a great idea to re-learn how to write alongside your girls – what a hoot !
My personal view on life : There is No Green Grass !
and I love “inky and thinky” – that, too, shall become part of my vocabulary!
“There is no green grass.” Now that is interesting… Must ponder this one. Maybe I should come up with an dictionary of ADR-isms? Wouldn’t that be egotistical and lovely?
I heard something very memorable “the grass is green where you water it”. Seemed like such a great way to refocus those times we fin ourselves thinking the grass is greener someplace else. Thought it was such a good message to share!
Your daughters are incredible.
Thanks, B. I certainly think so
I think I am more of a serious person, and remembering to me is happy. There was this picture I saw on Facebook, “these are the good old days we’ll remember when.” Nostalgia is a good thing, very uplifting and comforting to the soul. The priest at Sunday Holy Mass once said in a sermon, that what is sad is those with Alzeimer’s Disease who can’t remember anything. A very good friend of ours, who I like to call my grandma, passed away recently, she had Alzeimer’s. Eternal rest grant unto her oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. Thanks for sharing your thoughts, they always inspire me.
Thanks so much, Monica. And thank you for the reminder that it really is a privilege to be able to remember. One of my best friends in the world works with Alzheimers patients and their families and through her I have come to learn a little about the disease. All of it makes me very thankful to be able to process my days, and remember them.
I pulled this post up in the morning, but didn’t get to it until the evening, after writing about my week alone with my oldest son. Which produced a few tears anyway. It’s been the perfect week, and I wish I could borrow your little one to help me remember it.
Since I can’t, I’ll rely on myself and my son.
As a perfectionist, remembering is hard for me because I inevitably remember the mistakes more clearly than I remember the triumphs. My husband, however, rarely remembers the mistakes, so he often comforts me with memories of the good things.
I have notebook in which I write down all the wonderfully profound and silly things my three boys say. They can be so wise in their ridiculousness.
And now my disjointed comment will come to a close.
First of all, I don’t see anything disjointed about this lovely comment. I love that you write things down and what you say about remembering the good versus bad stuff is so interesting… and worth exploring. I went out to a wonderful dinner with two friends from high school last night and we talked about so many things, but one thing we talked about was memory – how we often remember the negative things more than the positive. We talked about this in the context of my biggest girl – how she remembers the time I went to the bathroom and left her in a little art class for two minutes. To this day – almost four years later – she will say, “Mom, remember that time in class when you went potty and left me…” Argh. And then my friend – a talented fixture in the upper echelon of the writing/print media world, mentioned something she’d learned at a luncheon about Nora Ephron. I guess Nora said – and I LOVE this – that kids only remember (1) the time we weren’t there; and (2) the times they threw up. I am probably butchering this, but how amazing is that? And funny? So sad about Nora by the way. I went to school with her son and I am just heartbroken for him and the family. Okay, now I am getting disjointed… Thanks, Monica!
It’s easy to get off on tangents, yes?
What a great thought, that children only remember the times we left them and the times they threw up. I suppose the blessing comes when the little tragedies can still be counted. I’ve recently realized that my boys will rarely remember the monumental art project I finally drag myself to do, but if I do those things often enough, they become the happy backdrop for the harder times. I’m starting to strive for their “backdrop” more often than for the big memories.
I love tangents. I believe in them, and deeply