Remember the Time…

Hi there! Welcome to my little corner of the world! Grab a cup of coffee (or tea, a soy latte, margarita…anything you like) and enjoy true stories from the frontlines of that battleground disguised as motherhood. I am so excited to be here! Thank you for carving out some of your valuable time to be here, too. In all honesty, I am not even sure what a soy latte is…but I have heard about them.

I hope you enjoy my very first blogpost!

We all have stories.  And I would be willing to bet that we all had the same thought when those stories happened: “Oh, I’ll remember this one for sure!” But then life happens. Focus shifts. It’s not so much that the stories and moments lose importance; it’s that our energies are demanded elsewhere. And although I joke about it, I am thankful that I am reminded of the stories and moments that have shaped my little slice of heaven.

Where to begin?  I’d like to start with what I like to call the Story of the Spring Fairy, because it is one of the most enduring stories I have, and also because just the other day it came up. Again.

As I was loitering in the kitchen with my 3 children on a random mid-March afternoon, listening to the wind trying to force its way down the chimney flue, the oft-asked question ‘how many days until Spring’ was boldly answered by my youngest.  In a proud and somewhat forceful tone, she announced what sounded like an edict from some Roman emperor: ‘There are 5 days until Spring’.  She said this not so much as an exclamation of joy; more like a statement that was not to be challenged.  A fact, for sure, but said in such a way as to ward off anyone from even thinking of questioning her, or, God forbid, looking it up on the Interwebulars to check her accuracy.

The discussion, or rather, the passive absorption of this newly imparted wisdom,  turned  abruptly to a subject that both makes me laugh and cringe, and my gut instinct to surreptitiously change the subject before it escalated was too slow, forcing me to stand there helpless, waiting. I knew what was coming.

There was a nanosecond of silence, and I knew there would be no going back this time, no changing of subjects, no gentle redirection to something else, anything else.

At that tenuous moment, that moment when the silence has not quite finished, my oldest spoke.  “Remember the Spring Fairy?”, she asked in a general sort of way, almost rhetorically.  Was that a touch of bittersweet?  I flicked a glance her way in hopes of catching a clue in her expression. I caught a hint of a grin. Or was it a smirk?

Anything premised with ‘remember’ or ‘remember the time when’ makes me slightly anxious…what are they going to remember this time?  When I broke the chair at the pizza place? When I had to use an ax to get into the house? When I threw up in the parking garage?

So, in honor of Spring and all things cringeworthy, here is the story of the Spring Fairy.

Several years ago (okay, more like 12 years ago), when my oldest two were littles and my 3rd ( bless her heart) was a nausea-inducing swelling in my midsection, I accidentally made up the Spring Fairy.  I was forced to, really. Some would say I blatantly lied to my children to get them to go to bed.  They would be correct. Some would say desperate times call for desperate measures.  They would also be correct.

We had recently transplanted from the Midwest to what seemed like a new planet at the time – New Jersey. My husband was travelling. I was pregnant and exhausted. The kids were giving me an unusually difficult time at bedtime.  As I recall, I was near tears. I just.wanted.to.sleep. and maybe enjoy a few non-vomiting minutes of bliss.

To my astonishment, I heard the following words come out of my mouth: “Well, we have to go to sleep! Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, and that means the Spring Fairy comes tonight!” Wait, what? What did I just say?  I just created a brand-new family tradition! What could be better? There must be Mom points awarded for such creativity. Two thoughts immediately sprang forth, fighting for first chair in my brain: one telling me how brilliant I was, and the other telling me there would be consequences. The first thought was like sparkly confetti gently falling upon my shoulders; the second was more like a firm ‘oh dear’ in the form of a face-palm.  Brilliance won, and consequence was admonished with a sharp ,’well, they will probably not even remember this conversation in the morning’.

They remembered.

So began several years of playing Spring Fairy…suddenly realizing at 10 pm ‘Oh my gosh, tomorrow is Spring and I have nothing for the Spring Fairy!”.  My husband, rightfully so, thought I was nuts.  But I clung to my Spring Fairy. For the kids, you know.

One year, it was late, with only one small store open for miles, and all I could find was soap. Yes, soap. And you’d better believe the kids remember the year when the Spring Fairy brought them soap. (To her credit, they were quite nice soaps.) ‘Remember the time the Spring Fairy brought us soap?’ has been asked more than once.

Finally, in the last year or 3 (I’ve lost count) the idea of the Spring Fairy has faded. You might have heard an audible sigh of relief. My oldest is 17, if that gives you any idea how long I have been playing at this charade.

As we lingered in the kitchen talking about the past gifts of the Spring Fairy, my oldest mentioned that she always wondered why nobody knew what she was talking about in kindergarten.  They had never heard of the Spring Fairy. She didn’t know that it wasn’t a ‘thing’. (I should have adjusted for that-I  had no idea that the Spring Fairy would take on a life of its own) .My son, who I had been so sure knew the truth about the Spring Fairy added ‘Remember the year she brought us soap?”

Just then my youngest looks at me, wide-eyed, and says in an almost-hushed tone, ‘You mean it’s not a thing? She doesn’t go to all the houses? Not everybody has the Spring Fairy? You made it up?”  This is a girl who has no time or tolerance for Santa Clause or the Tooth Fairy, so it is that much more surprising that the concept of the Spring Fairy had ever even taken hold with her…I had been assuming, wrongly, that she was just playing along, hoping for something other than soap.

I went on to explain how it all came about, how I had two little kids, one on the way, a big complicated move across the country, multiple living arrangements, New Jersey jug handles. It was hard. It was exhausting. I just wanted to sleep. And they understood, and we laughed- not entirely because it really was so funny, but because for us, it’s not surprising at all.  Which makes it all the more funny.

A second nanosecond of silence filled the air, daring someone to say those words again…and my brain filed through the seemingly endless supply of things that they could remember.

My son said, ‘Remember the time you threw up in the parking garage?’

 

 

Next up:   Is There Spaghetti in Heaven?