When Memory Fails Me...

I used to have a good memory.

Well, technically, I still do.

But it seems reserved for only the long-term memories: all those things I could care less about remembering, or ancient memories like turning two (no kidding). I vividly remember my second birthday--I lived in Italy, wore a pale pink dress, and was smiling from ear to ear as my mother brought out the teal and peach teddy bear cake that she'd made for me. My husband jokes that I always remember the most obscure details of memories, like what someone else was wearing or what I was eating, and my brother jokes that I remember everything for him since he can't recall a thing from our childhood.

Regardless, it seems like my good memory is stuck in the past, because in recent years my pregnancy-turned-mommy-brain has taken over life, and all the memories that seem to matter most--save those crystal clear childhood ones--are gone with the wind.

This pains me, especially when it comes to memories of my kids. It's bad enough that I forget half the things on the grocery list when I go shopping even though it's right in front of my face, or when I can't for the life of me remember where I parked. But it's the worst when my kids do or say something cute or funny or completely off the wall and I'm convinced I'll remember it forever. Wrong. By the next day I'm usually scratching my head and racking my brains, thinking, now what was that thing I knew I'd remember? Which pretty much means it's been lost forever to that bottomless black hole of memory and no amount of ginkgo biloba will ever recover it.

I really started to notice my memory failure when friends began to ask for simple advice about child rearing. I couldn't remember things like how old my daughter was before she slept through the night, or how many ounces of milk she needed at four months, or how many tries it took before she would stop rejecting vegetables. By the time our youngest rolled around, I was seasoned enough to know that I'd forget what I wanted to remember, so I came up with a great plan: I'd invent silly memory aids and will myself to commit the important stuff to memory. The funny thing is that I can still remember some of those memory aids, but I couldn't tell you the memory that I wanted to remember so badly. Mommy brain to the max, I tell you.

But I have, of late, found a way.

It takes some daily commitment and effort (not my strongest suit), but with a little inspiration from Pinterest and the help of a little gift from my husband, I've created my own twist on a memory book! I took this journal that he gave me for our anniversary (avec la Tour Eiffel, bien sûr, parce que j'adore toutes les choses Françaises!):

...and inside I very simply record one memory per day about each of our children. For instance, on Monday, November 5th, I wrote that our 13-month-old "walked around with the plastic horse all day saying "nee! nee!"

On Wednesday, November 7th, our three-year-old drew a stick figure (a self-portrait at that!) for the first time. He also ran around with his football demanding that I tackle him.

And my entry today for our four-year-old:

She learned recently that Santa comes down the chimney. She became very concerned and asked, "But Mommy, how did Santa get into our house when we lived in New York before and didn't have a chimney?!"

I've been at it for less than a month, but so far I've recorded at least a dozen firsts, and in the process I've gained a written account of all the things my short-term memory would otherwise fail to index! I admit, I've missed recording a few days when some really funny stuff has happened, and it's tough to remember what I was so eager to write down when I try to go back and fill it in the next day. Mommy brain clearly still reigns even if I wish it otherwise. But overall I've given myself the gift of a month of memories (so far) that would otherwise be toast! So, although I can recall my birthday outfit at age two more clearly than what I wore yesterday (I honestly can't remember now that I'm trying to), I can go look up yesterday's written account of special moments with my kids. And that, my friends, is as priceless to my memory today as it will be in ten years!

Take that, Mommy brain!






Join the conversation!
How about you? Do "senior moments" or "mommy brain" ever get the best of you? What have you done to keep the memories alive?