little holes

My mom leaned over in the front seat of the car and asked me 'if I remembered to wear my underwear?'. I lifted up my skirt and the confused look must have said it all as she made a quick turn around to swing into the nearest Pamida to buy me a new pack of days of the week underwear so I could go to preschool properly dressed.

This is how I remember that day, but I'm pretty certain there are like a billion holes in this story.  Like one, why am I sitting in the front seat of the car? (Yes, it was the late 70's, but still...). Two, my mom is asking me 'if I remembered my underwear?', so did I not wear my underwear enough times that it warrants her to ask me before dropping me off at preschool?

'Yep, Beth, you use to forget to wear underwear all the time!'

Awesome. Child genius, clearly.

It's just one of those memories where you look at a picture and it feels like you remember being there, being in that moment, remember that second when the camera snapped.  But in reality, you have a picture and you have people reminding, telling you, filling in all those little holes.

Today, I'm pretty happy for those little holes, those memories that Edy won't really remember.

Because I was pretty much insane.

I chased after her all. day. long. trying to get the perfect picture of her in her first day of pigtails.

I think I'll be selective in telling her the story, short and focused.

'No, Edy, your mommy is not crazy, you just looked so cute!'

Dang it... she probably need some convincing that I'm not crazy.

(and this is only 3 of the umm, 47 that I've taken).