Thoughts and ruminations about being a working mom, raising two daughters, and being Italian … while trying to maintain my sanity and organized closets. (My husband’s laugh, red wine, and ironing make me happy.)
By Adria Giordano
Another Facebook memory popped up today. Strawberry Shortcake and a Zombie Cheerleader and their friends at our backyard Halloween party. Such a wonderful memory. The kids bobbed for apples, had a costume parade, played dangling donuts and pin the hat on the witch. DIY games before the D-I-Y trend hit.
We had Fourth of July parties, Mommy & Me Breakfasts, and many, many backyard barbeques. Sack races, pancakes with chocolate chips, and ring tosses. I remember our small plastic kiddie pool and sprinkler and half of the neighborhood kids running behind our house in their bathing suits.
Winters were spent sliding down our big hill in the back yard, and hot chocolate in our tiny pre-renovation kitchen. Birthday parties with gymnastic themes and princess cakes. And everyone in the class being invited.
The years have flown by, and dangling donuts, Strawberry Shortcake, and princess cakes are long gone. But when I see these photos, it’s as though it was just last week that I was wrapping paper toilet around juice boxes to make “mummy” juice. (This was when juice boxes were still okay at parties even though they were full of sugar.)
Memories. Our past. Even beautiful memories hurt sometimes because it means time has passed, and time is finite. It has an ending. Like childhood. Through all the craziness of raising a child, and it is craziness, it is one of the most exhausting, beautiful, gut-wrenching, amazing part of my life.
Sometimes, particularly, when I am rushing home from work, or dropping off my daughter to school in the morning, I feel like their childhood has flown by in a blink of an eye. A feeling I am sure most parents feel some days. You put so much into raising them, then poof. It’s 18 years later and they are off to college or living on their own somewhere away from you. Making their own decisions and their own memories.
And if we are lucky, our children will look back on old photos and remember having fun. They may not get all teary-eyed like we do. Or stare at them wondering where the time has gone. They will probably not remember the details. Like the chocolate witch cookies and white chocolate ghost truffles (that their mother stayed up making until midnight the night before) … but hopefully they will remember a childhood filled with love.
Adria Giordano describes herself as a mom, wife, fundraiser, party planner, and blogger. She is a currently the director of development and communications for Chrysalis Center in Hartford, CT. She lives in West Hartford with her husband, two teenage daughters, mother-in-law, and mini goldendoodle puppy.
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