Motherhood Monologues #13: Play

A favorite childhood memory? "I could no sooner pick a favorite star in the heavens." (Danielle, Ever After, where are my 90s movie peeps?)

My childhood isn't so much defined by the things I loved to do, but the people I loved to play with. I remember chasing my older brother up and down the lane on our bikes while we played cops and robbers. I remember playing dollhouse and Barbies with my little sister (those rare moments when we got along!). I remember making wooden boats and "racing them" down the canal with my cousin Jake and dressing up in Grandma's "vintage" clothing with Jill. I remember making cookies with my little brother. I remember sledding and playing hide and seek in the snow with our St. Bernard, and how my fiesty, unfriendly cat was always good for a cuddle when I was sad. I remember monkey bars, Hallmark movies, and tractor rides at Grandma and Grandpa Burningham's and cinnamon toast, Cinderella puzzles, and racing billiard balls at my Grandma and Grandpa Browning's. I remember my third grade teacher letting me direct and put on a play for my class and my fourth grade teacher inviting me on the class trip to Yellowstone even after my family had moved away. I remember playing house with my best friend Mindi and spending weekends at my second family, the Spackmans' home. I remember being obsessed with all things American Girl, taking a cooking class, piano and violin lessons. I remember my aunt coaching my basketball teams. I remember my mom reading to us and throwing the best birthday parties. I remember square dancing Daddy Daughter Dates.

I remember, I remember, I remember.

This is the kind of childhood I want to give my children: the ability to imagine and play, the memories of laughing with their siblings, the kinds of friendships that, although they have faded, still bring a smile and a warm feeling to their hearts. I want them to have teachers that will recognize and encourage their interests and build their confidence. I want them to have the kind of relationship with their grandparents that makes them feel loved by simply recalling their faces or stepping into their homes. I want them to go on adventures with their cousins, have days where they get covered in mud, and feel as if the worlds they create for themselves are as real as the house next door.

And for me? I hope I get to be part of their experiences, even if it is from the sidelines. I want to be able to take joy in their play and laugh at their escapades. And I want to have days when I can sit down and play paper dolls and cars without feeling the need to start picking up the toys that surround me.

And I hope that occasionally I can get my siblings together and play a round of cops and robbers.