I look at Bash these days and I see him go through many memorable moments. For instance, he JUST crawled under an armchair and got stuck. Swedie pulled him out before he started crying or anything, but if that happened to me now I would remember it. The feeling of being trapped inside of a chair and the helplessness that goes along with it would be something that I would remember and then put into my blog. But Bash is the tender age of one. He won't remember that. As a matter of fact he won't remember anything for the next couple of years.
This is kind of a comforting fact for me as a new parent. I can literally be mean as hell to him for a good year and a half longer and then be super nice to him from the age of three and he'll love me more than anything! I'm not suggesting that I'll do this, but it is possible. Thinking about this made me reflect on some of my earliest memories. Most of them take place when I was between three and four years old and we all lived in Chicago with Granny.
The Bleach Drink
The first memory I can recall is when I drank bleach. That sentence should read "...when we drank bleach" but I have a twin brother that is smart enough to understand the concept of a bad idea. Somehow Jason and I got our hands on a bottle of bleach. I suggested that we drink the bleach. Jason agreed. This was before (and probably the reason) they started putting those childproof caps on bleach bottles. Opening the bleach wasn't difficult at all. I remember looking down into the bottle and seeing that delicious liquid sloshing around at the bottom of the container.
I tilted the bottle up as Jason watched intently. Right about when the liquid got about halfway up the bottle I started second-guessing my decision. But I had made my mind up. I had an impressionable younger brother (I'm three minutes older) to set an example for. When you start something, you finish it! So I turned the bottle up and the strong fumes from the bleach stung my nose and burned my eyes as the liquid went into my mouth. I immediately dropped the bottle and began screaming and running around. Jason decided against drinking bleach. He still hasn't tried it to this day!
The OCD Bath
Mom made a big deal about us taking our first bath alone. It would be a big step in our independence. Despite me being older, Jason went first. I'll have a little talk with Mom about that after I finish typing this. Jason apparently did well. Mom wouldn't shut up about it when it was my turn. I get it. He followed her directions and bathed himself. Big freaking deal!
Mom wasn't going to watch as we bathed. She would be nearby in the kitchen giving instructions as she cooked and cleaned. Cool. I got this. She set the water up. I sat in with my soap in one hand and washcloth in the other. She went into the kitchen and began yelling instructions to me.
- Wet the washcloth and the soap... get some soap on the washcloth...
I did as she instructed. The soap got kind of foamy from the water. Cool! Now to wet the washcloth. Okay. Now adding soap. Now the washcloth is all soapy. Now put this soap back. But the soap is all foamy! I have to dip this soap in the water so the foam gets off. The soap should look like it did when I started. It's not working. Okay, I got it. But I had to put my washcloth down in the water to get it like that. Now my washcloth doesn't have enough soap on it. Now I have to wet the soap again! Now the soap is foamy. Let me put the washcloth down so I can get this soap right. Dangit! The washcloth needs soap again...
I never even washed my face! Mom came in to dry me off and to her it looked like I was just playing with my washcloth and soap. To me, I had just been trying to get all of the details right. Apparently she had yelled instructions for each body part to wash and rinse. But I didn't hear her because the damn soap and washcloth weren't cooperating. I was startled by her coming in.
- So you're just playing with the soap?
- Huh? But the soap and the washcloth...
Mom shook her head and bathed me. Naturally, she reminded me that Jason was able to focus long enough to take a bath properly. See! This is why I should have gone first. Then she would know we weren't ready for this shit. Now I have to feel like a dummy until tomorrow when I understand the way soap and washcloths react to water and soap and washcloths.
Feeding Wall to Alisha
I remember my first spanking. I don't believe in spankings now. I don't plan to ever spank Bash. But I COMPLETELY understand why I got spanked this time. We scared our parents.
We were around 3-4 years old and napping (still safe). I woke up from my nap (now a danger to myself and all around me) and then Jason - being the follower that he is - woke up from his nap. I noticed a hole in the wall that our bed was against. How hadn't I seen that before? I showed Jason this glorious treasure. He was intrigued as well. But the hole wasn't big enough. We needed to make this hole bigger and better. Jason and I started peeling at the hole in the wall. The sheetrock crumbled down as we peeled and probably disappeared into space or something, we didn't know. We just had to keep working. The sheetrock falling away so easily was exciting!
Then Alisha (she's a year and a half younger) woke up. She had been missing out on this adventure! We went over to her crib and helped get her out. She needed to see the hole in the wall up close. She was excited as well. We helped her onto the bed and went back to work on the hole. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't reach the hole. Her loss! Jason and I had work to do.
We kept peeling away. But the sheetrock wasn't disappearing into space. It was falling onto the bed. The bed that Alisha was sitting on. And what better way for a two-year-old to enjoy something than to eat it? That's right, Alisha was eating that sheetrock like it was birthday cake. We didn't think anything of it because... because we were freaking TODDLERS.
Something about Mom and Dad's faces when they found us let us know that this was wrong. I can't imagine walking in on my two older kids feeding my youngest some paint and sheetrock. It was the 80s and there's no telling how old that paint was. Alisha had to take medicine for possible led poisoning. She's still messed up in the head now as a matter of fact (but that has nothing to do with the paint). We got our first spanking.
I wonder what Bash's first memories will be. I remember learning to tie my shoes, thinking kids were exaggerating when crying on the first day of school, touching Dad's penis in the bathtub and learning that touching Dad's penis is a terrible idea, being scared to go upstairs because it's dark and I had just watched "The Wiz" and a few other things. I'll share these memories with Bash when he gets older. Then I'll ask him his. It'll be cool to see what he's seeing from his point of view. Until next time...