On Christmas Eve, when my husband, daughter and I celebrated
Christmas at my mom’s house, we were sent home with triple the stuff we arrived
with. The best items? Home videos from my childhood. My mom encouraged me to
take some of them home, saying that I had my own family now and should keep
them around to show my daughter (or for my husband to use as serious
blackmail). I had to dig out the VHS player and sit in my daughter’s room to
watch them, but the things I found, and realized, made it worth it.
As I sat in
my daughter’s tiny bedroom (on a Disney princess pillow, no less) and watched
our family vacations, my spontaneous performances, recitals and talent shows,
and times when my parents just filmed me while I slept or colored at the table,
I couldn’t help but tear up and wonder
what happened to the little girl on screen. Did she have any inkling that she
would end up to be so lucky, with a handsome husband who truly loved her and a
beautiful daughter that thought she hung the moon? I had to pull it together
because the sound quality on those old VHS tapes isn’t the greatest, and I had
to be totally silent to hear anything. Plus, it would be so embarrassing if my
husband saw me sobbing at a video of me in a poodle skirt, singing a doo-wop
song at my 2nd grade talent show.
Sitting in
the living room of my childhood home, my mom is recording a conversation
between my dad and I. I’m 4 years old and (evidently) obsessed with belly
buttons. As I repeatedly lift up my shirt to show my belly button to the
camera, my dad tries to get my attention. I say, “Not right now, Daddy. I’m on
Candid Camera!” He says, “Debra, someday, maybe in 20 or 30 years, you will
look back at this video. Why don’t you talk to me so you can have something
nice to remember?” When I watched that part, chills ran down my spine. Here I
was, 20 years later, doing exactly what he had predicted. And while I did wish
that I had been a little more conversational and less “Girls Gone Wild,” the
video still had an incredible impact.
It only
took me 2 days to get through all the videos. When I finished them, I put them
into a box and placed in on the bookshelf. It all seemed very symbolic to me.
My childhood was fun, it was warm and happy, and it molded me into the woman,
wife, and mother that I am today. But I can’t put my focus on the past. After
all, I’m busy making memories for my daughter and recording home videos for her
to watch in 20 years. Maybe she will be sitting in her daughter’s room (on a
Disney princess pillow, no less) when she puts in the movie, sees how much love
and attention we gave her, and tries to cry quietly so her husband won’t hear. Maybe
she will wisely put those videos on her bookshelf when she’s done so she can
get back to what’s most important—the present. And maybe she will have a
clearer understanding of how much her father and I love her, and know that we
love her enough to record even the silliest and most mundane moments, because
those are the moments that really make up your childhood.
Love,
Mom
Debra is a young housewife and mother
transitioning from wild to mild and braving the waters of PTO meetings and play
dates. This is harder than it sounds.
You can email her at interruptedmom@gmail.com or visit the website at www.motherinterrupted.com
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