Childhood memories

When you’re raising children, it’s hard to know what the lingering effects of a particular situation will be. Is this going to be a life-defining moment for my child? Is this one of those moments they’ll look back on and use to sum up their whole growing up experience?

I know that there are few moments I remember from before the time I was about 5. I can still see certain scenes in my mind and recollect on certain events, but they are few and far between.

I have been haunted by the fact that my son is now reaching the age where he’s going to remember things. Up to now, I have taken some solace in the fact that anything I did that I felt was a total mistake would likely not be remembered by my son. But those days are ending. He’s three now and anything I do that is a real disaster is likely to stick.

I was reminded of this the other day as I lay on the table in the dermatologist’s office having a little mole removed. The doctor decided he didn’t like it and it needed to go. Unfortunately, the small space this mole took up on my leg and the thumbtack head-sized hole that he left in my thigh were somewhat different. I don’t think I’ll be offering any suggestions for moles that I think have changed size next year at my annual dermatology appointment.

I started having annual skin check-ups because my father had skin cancer when he was in his 40s. He had a melanoma on his neck that was so bad that the doctors told my mother he might come out of surgery without a voice box – it just depended on how deep they had to cut. Well he made it out of surgery just fine, but this brings me to one of my first childhood memories.

I was all of 3 years old and I vividly remember standing in the doorway of our kitchen, watching my mother wash my father’s hair in the kitchen sink. His neck was all bandaged and he couldn’t get it wet, so this was how he had to wash his hair for a little while after his surgery. I think that was so out of the ordinary that it stuck with me.

When I mentioned this memory to my mother, she said that she had feared I would be scarred by the sight of her screaming on the telephone when the doctor’s office called her and told her that her husband had to come home from his business trip right away because he had cancer. Nope. Don’t remember a thing about that.

So I guess I still have a little time to gather it up and prepare for the fact that soon enough, I won’t really be able to get much past OBB. For right now, though, when he gets sad that a friend is leaving our house, I’ll continue telling him that they are “going to take a nap” – something he wouldn’t want to follow them to do. We’ll see when he catches on.