Remembering the good moments in life

It was perhaps the 10th chore of the day in a long list of things that had to get done: the laundry. It had piled up yet again despite the fact that I had already done three loads that week. High on stress and low on energy, I reluctantly lugged the overflowing basket into the basement, annoyed at having to repeat this task, frustrated because as I was physically placing the clothes into the washer, I was mentally ticking off all the things that still had to be finished in the basement. I was aggravated that it was still in recovery mode.

In the two years since Hurricane Sandy, the basement has undergone a massive shift. Once finished with wooden doors that opened up to the washer and dryer, and dry, unfettered walls, our basement instantly became an indoor ocean when the water from the bay crashed open our back door and flooded into the house.

Little by little, we have attempted to get it back to what it used to be, but we’re still not quite there yet. The cleaning process alone took months, as did the replacement of all that was destroyed — appliances, walls, floors, and electric work. It seemed that just as we fixed one thing, we’d find another hidden area that had to be torn down, repaired, or replaced.

With the washer loaded, I stood under the bright light bulb hanging overhead and flashed back to the day we moved in, just over five years ago. After years of saving up while trying to raise three kids, we finally bought a house. It was a monumental moment for us. We started out as two naïve kids ourselves who had grown up together, married young, and did our best to make a good life. I was positively thrilled when we closed on the house. I recalled going straight from the closing to our new empty home, looking at the rooms, the front porch, the backyard, and letting the realization sink in that it was all ours. I also remembered doing laundry in our washer in the basement the first few days after we moved in, and being delighted doing it, telling my husband how truly awesome it was to do laundry right in our own house, without having to lug it to the laundry room in our old building that rarely had a spare washer available. I also pondered all the days post-Sandy when we’d have to go to the Laundromat (as did nearly everyone in our neighborhood) because our washers and dryers had been destroyed by the salt water.

Things had been more difficult and less comfortable than they are now. There were times we didn’t have a house, barely had an apartment, and then lost much of what we worked so hard to attain. That single thought broke me out of my self-absorbed frustration. Yes, I had and probably, hopefully, will always have a lot to do on any given day. I might not ever love doing laundry. Our basement might take another year to get back to the way we want it.

Through it all, the difficult to the mundane, we are making memories every day, marking our kids’ childhood with either negativity and frustration or peace and fun. And that’s what our kids remember. I want to choose the latter always, but some days are more difficult than others.

Growing up with my mom, who was a single mother, we rarely had luxuries. My favorite childhood memories are of walking our dogs with my mom after she got home from work, or laughing so hard we cried while watching “All in The Family,” or perhaps just sitting on the bed while Sonny and Cher sang in the background on Sunday nights, watching my mom put Dippity-do in her hair.

I asked my old high school bud Lisa about her favorite childhood memory and she painted a beautiful picture:

“My Nonno (Italian for Grandpa) would pick me up from kindergarten when he visited from Italy. He was always dressed in a suit, hat, and dress shoes. He hardly spoke English, and I hardly spoke Italian, but it didn’t matter, we always managed to communicate. I can remember vividly walking home from school with him, hand-in-hand, getting home and making minestrone soup with him. He would allow me to chop the veggies and stir the soup. He always knew how to make me feel special! He was the sweetest, most gentle man ever! I loved him so much!”

My friend Christine had a sweet family memory, also about her grandpa:

“Sunday dinner at my grandparents’ house in Dyker Heights. Walking in to Frank Sinatra blasting; my grandfather (my Papa) would not let me into the kitchen unless I slow danced with him. I fought him with every step. (I thought it was silly at the time.) Now, I’d give practically anything to have just one more dance.”

My colleague Amy remembers this:

“My mom was not a cook. In fact, there were many nights of pizza and takeout, but one winter, I asked her to bake me cookies for my birthday. She got a recipe, and we tried to bake them one Saturday morning. She carefully studied the recipe and added and mixed, all the while saying they might not come out very good. They didn’t. They were raw on the inside and burned on the outside. We had flour all over the kitchen, and it was a mess. But mom tried, and we laughed more than we ever did that day. I’ll never forget it.”

There is beauty in every day, but we’ve got to recognize it. Most of our daily lives is ordinary. We can post all the vacation and party photos on Facebook we want, but we’ve got to enjoy the moments, in particular, the small moments that make up life. I’m willing to bet that if I asked you what your favorite childhood memory was, most of you might pick a typical day that was not very different in any way, other than it stood out to you, because of the person you were with and the memory that created. Those are the days to cherish.

What was your favorite childhood memory? Let us know on Facebook: www.facebook.com/NYParenting

Danielle Sullivan, a mom of three, has worked as a writer and editor in the parenting world for more than 10 years. Sullivan also writes about pets and parenting for Disney’s Babbl‌e.com. Find Sullivan on her blogs, Just Write Mom and Some Puppy To Love.