Things Are Not What They Used To Be... And They Never Were

Nostalgia is the practice of remembering the good things about the past and forgetting the bad.  I just made that up, but that doesn't mean it isn't true.

Take high school, for example.  Which adult doesn't long for the teenage years, when we could spend all day with our best friends and our skin didn't have the hint of wrinkles yet?  I am constantly amazed at my high school students, who don't appreciate their good fortune of being so young.  I wonder why they seem so tense.  Tests and papers cannot be nearly as stressful as bills, child care and work deadlines.  And they get to spend all day with their group of friends, so why do they complain about cliques and bullies?  Looking back at my high school years, I remember feeling empowered to make the right decisions about my future.  So why do these young high school students seem so lost?

Childhood is another great example of something that looks better when you're on the other side of it.  An early bedtime is a dream for most adults, but not as much appreciated by the children on whom it is enforced.  I remember fondly the days filled with the freedom to do whatever you like.  So why are my children complaining that they are bored?  A childhood memory that stands out the most for me is jumping on the couches in our living room, I can clearly picture my hair bouncing and a big smile on my face.  And although I am sure that episode ended with my mother yelling at me to stop, I cannot remember that part.  The good memories stand out and take over our perspective.

Motherhood isn't always as it seemed either.  I observe my friend's baby crawling on the floor, trying to eat her rattle and stopping every two minutes to give anyone looking at her a big baby grin. I remember those beautiful days when my youngest was that age.  I remember the ecstatic smiles, the joy my baby would have just from someone looking at him. The newness of life, the excitement of bathtime, and the wonder at everything was such a pleasure to behold.  I share these thoughts with my friend, the new mom, and I wonder why she isn't sharing in my excitement.  Why is she nodding in half agreement with a partial smile plastered on her face?  Why she is yawning as I speak, and why does she look like she was too tired to remember to match her clothing?  I don't remember being that tired.  I just remember my baby's bouncy curls and mile-wide smile.