I Want Them to Remember

I want my kids to remember the little things.

I want my kids to remember that I carried a junky old towel to the park after it rained and I’d wipe down all three slides so they could play and not get their cute little butts soaking wet.

I want them to remember how, when they were each 2-3 years old, I’d lay out their clothes exactly how they’d go on their cute little bodies: pants front-side-up and shirts front-side-down.

I want them to remember how I’d set out a morning snack the night before weekend mornings, so they could munch on cereal and raisins while their daddy and I got to sleep in as long as we could.

I want my kids to remember how when I got home from the library I’d casually display new books on the coffee table and walk away, knowing they’d dive into them in their own time.

I want my daughter to remember me going through her preschool flashcards with her, and celebrating her learning victories with high fives and giggles.

I want my son to remember how I taught him to use a paintbrush, with soft brushstrokes that feel like feathers on the skin.

In reality, they may not remember any of these things. That’s okay, because I will.

Mostly, I just want them to remember feeling loved.

Day 23


Robin Egg Blue

My grandmother died when I was 14 years old.

It was the spring of 1997 and she had suffered from colon cancer and lost her battle.

She was my mom’s mom, and she was the grandparent I felt closest to.  Before she got sick, she was delightfully squishy and smelled like mothballs, cheap lipstick, and brown sugar.  I can still hear her voice in my head (that warm, Midwestern accent where the vowels go on for miles), and sometimes, her voice comes out of my own mouth when I least expect it.  Usually when I am giddy and happy.

She was the first person I’d known to pass away, the first funeral I’d been to.

Her casket was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.  It was this robin egg blue that was sparkly and gleaming.  Her body rested on this baby blue satin that looked so smooth and shiny and comfortable.

I remember wanting to get out my camera and take a picture of it before it was covered by earth forever, but instinctively I knew that people might not like that, so I didn’t.

Looking back, I kinda wished I had.  I like being able to remember all things – the good and the sad.

I still remember, even without that picture.

I first wrote the above post on April 1, 2013. I never posted it, until now. Not quite sure why…maybe because it’s about death? Maybe for the same reason I didn’t take that picture?

And now, all these years later, my daughter’s middle name is hers. My grandma’s. They are both feisty and warm and gooey and delicious. They both smell like brown sugar (among other things). I love them and they are mine.

A picture is worth a thousand words, but it would never be able to capture all that.


Moonwalking with Matt Damon

This is the good angel on Melissa’s right shoulder speaking.  Melissa really needs to buckle down and study for her licensing exams, so if you see her on WordPress, please kindly yell at her to stop procrastinating and get to work.  This is for her own good, after all.  Thanks ever so kindly!

Hey peeps.  This is the hot mess of a devil on Melissa’s left shoulder.  Don’t you even think about yelling at my girl here.  She works hard and she deserves a break by spending hours upon hours on this awesome site where people congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe!  Melissa doesn’t need to study; she’s got it down-pat.  Peace out, yo.


Welcome to my world, everyone.  This is what I deal with on a daily basis now.  And since I am currently blogging…I think my devil has won out for a stretch.  So while I’m here, I wanted to share a really awesome recent discovery that is actually helping me (slowly, arduously) study for my exams.

I just finished reading this book called Moonwalking With Einstein by Joshua Foer.  It’s about this young journalist dude who did a story on memory competitions, got interested in the topic and culture, and committed to doing a year-long memory training experiment that resulted in him winning the following year’s American Memory Championship.  Crazynuts!

What I liked the best about this book is that he actually gave tips for how we can all improve our memories.  The brief take-away message is that our human brains are not built to remember random numbers (like phone numbers), random words (like a shopping list), or random anything.  We more easily encode and retrieve memories that are both visual/spacial and contextual.  Thus, the trick to better remember random things is to first create context for them, and then make them into something visually striking.

An example: let’s use a shopping list of the following items – milk, eggs, dish soap, kitty litter, and ice cream.

First, we use what’s called a memory palace (Josh gives historical context for why this technique is used, and it’s awesomely interesting).  Memory palaces are used as virtual storage spaces for the things you want to remember.  Usually, a memory palace is a building that you know very well, and you can visualize every nook and cranny in your mind very easily.  A memory palace can also be a mental walk through a familiar place, like the street you grew up on.  This provides the context for the items on the list.

For this example, I will use the home I grew up in as a memory palace for this shopping list.  I start by imagining myself standing on the sidewalk facing the house.  The first item on the list is milk, and I will place that here, at the edge of my front lawn.  I want to make a mental image of milk that is somehow shocking and, well, memorable.  Josh suggests that sexual images and anything very much out of the ordinary tend to stick in our minds the best.  I imagine a kiddie pool on my front lawn filled with milk, but that’s not enough.  I picture a naked Matt Damon bathing and splashing in this pool of delicious, silky 1% milk (This is a hunky Jason Bourne Damon, as opposed to an Informant! Damon, just so you know.  Just…helping you to visualize.  To remember better.).  I might even put a mooing cow behind the pool for emphasis.  Mr. Damon is smiling and laughing and beckoning to me.  Sorry, Matt, but I need to move onto the next item.

In my mind, I walk up the front path to my front door.  I imagine that the front of the door is one giant fried egg, where the yolk is a face and it’s all dripping and oozing like Pizza the Hut in Space Balls.  I have to eat my way through the egg to get into the house, and I focus on tasting the salty, delicious egg.  Man, I wish I could turn back and wash that egg down with some milk, but I can’t.  I’m on a memory mission.

I am in the tiled entryway now.  I picture that the entryway is flooded up to my waist in bubbly dish soap water, and I look to my left and see that my brother is surfing around on a giant greasy plate.  I wonder if Matt Damon can surf?

I half walk, half swim through the suds over to my left and into the formal living room.  In here, I see that my lovely cat Sadie has spread her kitty litter all over the coffee table and white couches so she can pee and poo wherever she likes.  There are stains all over and the room reeks of cat pee.  Good thing Matt didn’t come in and smell this mess.

I walk through this room and on into the family room, which is where my family watched TV together.  My imagination transforms this room into a giant walk-in freezer.  There is ice all over every surface, and I am shivering.  I can see my breath.  In place of furniture, piled all around me is giant scoops of different flavors of ice cream.  To my left, chocolate.  To my right, mocha almond chip.  Under my feet, I am slipping on some bright green mint chocolate chip.  Dude, let’s go find Matt and that cow and make a milkshake!

So you see basically how it works.  The next time you want to remember your list, just start at the beginning of your memory palace and do the whole walk-through again.  Try it sometime with a list of some sort and see how fun it is!

This brings me back to the topic on my mind the most these days.  Needless to say, my anxiety about my licensing exams (yes, plural.  as in more than one) is growing.  Among many other things, these tests cover 9 theories of therapy, and each theory has several concepts and interventions that I need to understand and remember….so last Sunday, I gave it a whirl and I devoted one room in my childhood home memory palace to each theory and, with a little work and creativity, I turned each concept into a visual image.  This is so exciting, you guys!!  I now have my uncle doing gymnastic flips on scaffolding in my living room (structural therapy), Freud is tied with stretchy rubber bands to a pole in my basement (concept of attachment in psychodynamic theory), and a giant apple core is in my parents’ bed smoking a cigarette (concept of core schemas in cognitive therapy).

So far, these images have stuck in my brain with very little effort and they don’t seem to be going anywhere.  Indeed, in the book Josh says that these images are easier to remember months and even years later.  Huzzah!

So, people in my blog universe – please send me good studying vibes!  Now, if you all (and the good angel on my right shoulder) will excuse me, I have some more remembering to do in a kiddie pool full of milk.