you'r earliest memory

Mine was sitting on the floor of my old bedroom looking in the mirror with my dad laughing. We had just moved in there, I was only young, possibly as young as 2 years old.

One where it was morning and I was standing in my cot/crib wanting to get out, I remember my dad coming in, he was wearing a green dressing gown lol and he was smiling and so was I.

I also remember my sister when she was a newborn (I had just turned 4) and the midwife was over weighing her in the bathroom whilst I stood guard to make sure my sister was okay.

Another time I remember purposely chocking on a grape whilst my mum breastfed my sister because I wanted attention

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2eqgFaU52K4"]Brand New Key (HD) - YouTube

 

i remember being bathed in a yellow baby bath and still having the part of umbilical chord in my belly.

it's fucked and it freaks my parents out that i remember the colour of it and where they would clean me.

 

Third birthday. Sitting on the kitchen floor with my legs up on my mother's lap. She was sitting on a kitchen chair tying my sneakers. I was wearing a dark blue turtleneck with a short zipper. The zipper had a loop about the size of a penny to pull it down.

 

Sitting

 

I'm so bad with memoty. I can't remember my first day of school or first time having sex and this was the case before smoking too much weed.

I guess it would be being 5 and going to kindergarten, just not the first day somehow.

 

I remember this so clearly, i wanted to see but the light hurt my eyes. Found out many years later as an adult that my dad had been beating me to get me to stop crying. H'e said by the time I was 6 months old I would stop crying on command. In wasn't the light that was hurting me, it was the shit coming out of the shadow that I didn't understand. I remember infancy.

 

I spoke my first words when I was very young, only 9 months old. I don't remember that, only that I was told so. What I do remember is that before I could talk, I understood English. I often wonder if early development of language is the reason I can remember my infancy. I knew the words for what I could see and hear, just not how to say them. I do not remember smells from that age. My memories are all about what I could see and hear. I remember a lot, but have no idea in what order my memories should be organized.

My earliest memory is of waking up. I could hear my grandmother stirring sugar into her tea, though it would be a couple of years before I knew what that sound was. I could see the indirect sunlight being filtered by the curtains and drapes in my room, and while the room was still dim, there was a reddish glow. I try to get up. The bumper in my crib, covered in farm animals impedes me. There is a gap in my memory. The next thing I remember, I am holding myself up, and I can see the carpet. It is red, and looks really far away. The weight of my head is tipping me over the top rail of my crib. I fear falling out. I manage to thrust myself I to the crib, onto my back. I cry hysterically from both fear and relief. It takes longer than I want, but my mother comes to comfort me. She holds me. She wears a black and white nightgown. She says, "Good morning" and shushes me. I don't remember what happens next.

I remember being bathed on the dining room table. I remember the doorbell ringing. My mother disappears for what feels like eleven eternities. The next person I see is her best friend. She wears a long, gray winter coat. It's my earliest memory of the woman who would be my mother figure after my mother died. I remember being frightened when I thought I was alone, and relieved when my mother resumed bathing me.

I remember it being evening, and that the house seemed full of people. I specifically remember my mother, aunt, grandmother, and my grandmother's male companion being present. There may or may not have been others. There we were in my grandmother's bedroom. Her bed was meticulously made. Her mink coat was spread out on the bedspread. Her headboard was so shiny. The mink was a wonderful and new texture. I loved it. I was naked on it, and could feel the silky fur all over. My grandmother admonshes, "Don't you pee on that coat!" Someone has a camera. So does my aunt. Flashbulbs go off. Swiftly, I am lifted from the bed. I miss the mink, so I cry. I have seen the photo my aunt took. In it, I am an infant.

I am not quite two. I wake up in my favorite dress in a strange place. It appears to be night time in a forest. Astonished, I burst I to tears and demand the presence of my mother in that way toddlers have. My mother does as she always does when I cry. She insists I put my feelings into words, and when I do not speak clearly, she tries to get me to breathe through it. This time, it isn't working. I want to stop crying, but I don't know how to express my feelings of disorientation. There is a strange white lady. She has a stuffed animal, and she seems to want me to have it. Instantly, I love the mighty mouse toy that's as big as my head. The forest is a studio, and I'm to be photographed. The lady takes the doll away because he doesn't belong in the pictures. I scream hysterically, having misunderstood the arrangement, completely unable to understand why someone would take something they gave me as a gift. I'm completely inconsolable. In the photos, there are tears in the corners of my eyes despite my happy, genuine smile. There is also a Mighty Mouse doll in my arms. It broke my heart again when I had to leave it at the studio, but the second time it was taken, I didn't cry. I was angry with my mother for not defending me from duplicitous strangers pretend ding to give gifts.

I remember that on my first day of nursery school, when I was 18 months old, I was uncomfortable, but unafraid. I'd been left with babysitters before, but I knew this was different. To cope, I pretended to be a bumble bee. I buzzed around every morning for over two years. Eventually it was just from habit. Some mornings, I didn't want to, but I felt like it was expected, so I did it. The teachers let me.

Shortly after I started nursery school, before the photo shoot mentioned above, I was sent to my room to put away my toys. I didn't want to. Instead, I flipped through a book. Without realizing it was extraordinary, I began to read it. I got stuck on the word refrigerator, and forgetting that I was meant to be cleaning, I brought the book to my mother to have her help me with the word, asking her if it was in fact refrigerator. She was simultaneously shocked, pleased, proud, and irritated. Literacy got me out of a spanking for disobedience, but not out of cleaning my room.

After that, I have lots of memories of reading with my mother.

I was afraid of water. My mother invented some kind of apparatus for getting just my forehead and hair into the tub for shampooing. I would lay on it on my back. I remember being on my back to have my hair washed in the tub, but not the device itself. I remember I both feared and enjoyed the sensation of being tilted back, back, back...

 

My first memory is from when I was about 7 months old. I was sitting in one of those chair/saucer things with all the toys on it, only I was bored because I knew what they all where. So, I managed to slide the chair kinda like a walker over to the bookshelf and picked up a newspaper my dad had left there. My mom came up to see what the commotion was at about the time I was turning the page from the remax real-estate ads - that balloon they use as a logo is still vivid in my mind - to the car ads. I pointed at a ford explorer and made some kind of noise because I recognized it as the kind that we had at the time.

 

What's with Frankenstein dreams when you're little? Is it a latent fear of death? I had this dream that there were three doors and I could choose one, but I chose the one with Frankenstein behind it and he took me away.

I think my earliest memory is playing with a wind-up Smurfs toy. Not sure how old I was.