Thursday, September 4, 2014

TBT: Forgotten memories

My Dad is the father of six girls and no boys. Yes, yes, get it all out of your systems now - poor him, right? Poor him my foot! He has had such a good life and give us all a couple decades and he is going to be the most well-taken-care-of cranky old man. Even he admits that!

I will admit, however, that with six daughters, everything hasn't been always been rainbows and sunshine. Six daughters, six young women going through puberty (some at roughly the same time. Shudder). Six daughters, six emotional first dates. Six daughters, six wardrobes to fight over. You get the idea.

Six daughters, six birthdays to forget...

When I was about 8, I had a father/daughter party at church. We ate food, we played games, it was fun for all. To be honest, I probably wouldn't remember much about that particular party it weren't for one game we played. It was one of those games where you ask one half of a pair questions about the other half and see how many they get right. The dads were supposed to be answering questions about the daughters and they threw in a couple of what I thought were slow pitches. What color are your daughters eyes? What is your daughter's birthday?



My dad had five kids at that point. That's a lot of birthdays to remember! Our family isn't known for our good memories. He was asked what my birthday was. He answered October 8. My birthday is October 9.

THE HORROR.

I think I have been holding it against him for twenty years, despite the fact that I still to this day have to double check with my sisters that I remember the right date for his birthday every year. But, like the patient man that he is, he has let me hold my little grudge and give him grief for it whenever I get the chance.

That is what I remember that event for. I remember that my dad forgot what day my birthday is. Then the other day I was going through a packet of loose pictures that my mom had stuck in the back of one of my photo albums. For the first time in years I found a couple pictures from that father/daughter party and I remembered something else about it:




Did I mention that my dad is a wonderfully patient man? Six daughters, a lifetime of submitting himself to events that asked him to do things like be wrapped up as a toilet paper mummy, much to the delight of those six daughters.

I forgot all about that part of the party and I am sure there were so many more moments that were so much better than the moment when he forgot what day my birthday is. Especially when, twenty years later, I find myself in love with and married to a man who also can't always remember what day my birthday is on.

I stuck the toilet-paper-mummy picture up on my bulletin board after I found it the other day, just to remind myself that my past isn't all forgotten birthday memories. There are many, many more toilet-paper-mummy memories out there, ready to be remembered and enjoyed.

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