I don't want my children to remember 200 euro sneakers!

Reading a text on a page site (at least as much as my English allows me) about how children, when they grow up, remember their parents, I asked myself: How will my kids remember me? And how did we remember our moms? And I, just like that mom from the USA, made my list… and before that I stop and dedicate a few sentences to my mother.

I remember when she told me about Snezana and 7 dwarves, just every night before going to bed. When she was already kissing me lightly on the forehead in a half-sleep and quietly telling me that I would have beautiful dreams tonight as well.

Reading a text on a foreign site (at least as much as my English allows me) about how children, when they grow up, remember their parents, I wondered: How will my kids remember? And how did we remember our moms? And I, just like that mom from the USA, made my list… and before that I stop and dedicate a few sentences to my mother.

I remember when she told me about Snezana and 7 dwarves, just every night before going to bed. When she was already kissing me lightly on the forehead in a half-sleep and quietly telling me that I would have beautiful dreams tonight as well.

I don’t want them to remember the pile of collected fallen leaves in the yard. I want them to remember how they rolled over him, threw him high above their heads and how happy they were then.

I don’t want them to remember the tears shed because of not winning medals. I want them to remember the smiles that came later when we all went to the burger together with all the side dishes in order to celebrate the 4th place.

I don’t want them to remember the quarrels that used to cunningly creep through the keyhole like smoke. As well as all those unpaid bills for electricity and cable television. I want them to remember how full their hearts were when we won free cinema tickets at the prize game on the radio. And how much it didn’t matter to us what we were going to see on the big screen, but it was important to us that we were all together, with a smile on our faces and big popcorn in our laps.

I don’t want them to remember falls on big vacations, shed tears because of the current pain and shame. I want them to remember my healing powers that I had every time no compresses or painkillers worked.

I don’t want them to remember the cake with fondant figurines in the shape of heroes from Star Trek that Milan had at the celebration of his birthday. I want them to remember my vanilla pudding with chopped bananas on top, topped with that chocolate filling from the tube that I made for them at least twice a week.

I don’t want them to remember Mina’s 200-euro sneakers or Dušan’s latest iPhone. I want them to remember my joys when they finally realized that a man is not beautiful because of what he wears on his feet but because of what he has in his head and heart…

So no bad hairstyles, no neat hairstyles, no sandwiches with Parisian, no pilaf with chicken meat of organic origin, no pimples on the tip of the nose, no worn socks on the heel , no medals won, no bad grades, no fives with stars, no expensive sneakers, no sneakers bought on Nylon on Fridays when used ones come to life, no cooked lunch, no guilt about eating a hamburger, no latest iPhone, no “bricks” from the last century … That will no longer be on my list. And that’s why I’m going to make a new one.

So the next time I wonder that If I have done all the things from that list above, I will first do the following: I will count all the kisses, hugs, smiles, nice words, gentle touches of plump feet that crept into my bed sometime after midnight, all those “stupid” questions for which while I didn’t become a mother, I didn’t even know they existed – I put them on the list and only then will I think that I did my “job” properly. Because that’s the list every mom should strive for.

And only those things from the list should be important to us because they are the only thing our children will remember…

Author: Jasmina Jovičić / Zelenaucionica