Mom-mode # 23 - on my first childhood memory

Due to my current state ( preggo, in case you haven't heard), I have been pondering a lot upon motherhood and childhood. As I think about what kind of mom I want to be and what kind of childhood experiences I want to provide baby boy, I can't help but reflect on my own early years in life.

I am sure I am not the only mom-to-be who has gone through this. It is inevitable not to think about what traditions you want to repeat and pass onto the next generations and which ones you may wish to do differently.

One, I wish to never change or forget is my very first memory. It is precious and I'll cherish it always. I hope my baby boy can have a first memory as sweet as this one:

There was a certain buzz around the house. Like we were all waiting on something to happen. My 3-year-old brain could not quite grasp it, but I knew something big was about to take place. It was late evening and dad had gone to work (at the time he still worked night shifts at the hospital). Mom, my big sis and I laid on these big pillows in my dad's study, waiting on something I wasn't quite sure what.

Suddenly, mom gets up quickly. She makes a phone call and the next thing I remember is waking up to an empty house, our nanny telling me my aunt and uncle were coming to pick me up shortly. Perhaps to call my nerves or maybe just to pass time, she took me for a stroll around my neighborhood. I still remember neighbors smiling at me, the soft March sun shining on the sidewalk and our nanny's hand on mine.

Everything else is pretty much a blur from there until the most vivid moment I could ever recall: Dad pulls up on the driveway of my aunt's house, holding a shiny new gift. He tells me, grinning from ear to ear: your baby sister, that just arrived, sent you this. Now what was about to unfold as I unwrapped that gift, was the beginning of an undying devotion to shoes, purses and my baby sister. You see, in that package was the cutest little pink purse and pink sandals. If this baby brought me this, how bad can she be?

Naturally, my parents knew the way to appease my anxious heart (with purses and shoes!), but I still like to think that my younger sister was the one that picked out that prized pink gift. This is my first childhood memory, the day my (not so) little sister was born.

How about you, what is your earliest memory?