I remember quite a lot of things of when I was a “baby”. I lived on the netherlands for my first 4 years, and I have really vivid memories from that time. The oldest one is probably me being put on a crib with some toys hanging from somewhere. I also remember that I went to the hospital one day and sat with mum on the hospital room. The room had widows on the walls so natural light would come in, but you could also see the other rooms. A few rooms aheat there was a boy playing with his toy tv. Another one: A friend of mum came over. She had really really red hair and was wearing a pair of dark, long thin nylon socks. She gave me a box of Legos. It had a truck, horse, puppet and trailer. Is it normal to have so many memories from such an early age? What about ypu guys? What do you remember?
My first memory is of waking from a nightmare. There was a buzzing electric light on the end of my crib. In my dream it was scary and cartoony. I remember waking up and looking at it.
My friend thought it might have been the incubator I was in when I was very small, but I’m not sure of that. Mom said that when I was four or five, I used to draw ‘clutches’, clutching hands coming down from the top corners of the page. She also used the phrase, “I’ve got you in my clutches” occasionally. When I saw such an incubator much later, it had gloves protruding from the wall… Perhaps that influenced things as well.
Earliest is from when I was three or four or maybe five, a little toddler, waddling out under a Palo Verde tree in Borrego, California, where my dad was buying hay. I was along for the ride; my pop was baby-sitting me that day.
I clearly remember (but it may be an artifact of a memory many-times recalled) the “tabula rasa” effect, of wonder at how new this big, wide world was.
I have definite memories of Kindergarten, which I went to between 3.5 and 4.5 years of age. I have memories of even earlier, not of specific events, just stuff like walking with my mother and reaching up as far as I could to hold her hand, so I must have been pretty small. I’d say I must have been between two and three at the time.
My earliest memory is from age two, the day we arrived in Colorado when we moved from New Mexico. There was snow on the ground. We were in the car, my mom was holding my sister, who was only 2 months old, on her lap. No car seats back then!
I remember being bathed sitting up in the kitchen sink - it was a double sink and my sister was in the other one - we pretended the two sinks were a train.
I can’t have been older than three when this happened (as we moved to a different house in a different country)
I remember being pushed in an old brown wicker stroller, with worn pieces of wicker sticking out. There was a big pool of huge goldfish, with a stone path crossing it. We were crossing that path, and I was looking at the fish on both sides. On the other side was a greenhouse, which we entered.
This was part of a botanical garden that was across the street from our apartment building. We moved from there when I was about a year old, and never returned. I have verified this memory with my mother and my aunt, who verified my age and the fact that we never returned there.
My earliest memory is (meta alert) of a memory. Or at least I thought it was at the time.
Aged 4 or 5, I woke up one day certain that I had remembered what life in my mother’s womb was like. Apparently the place was full of streetlights, but little else. So as anyone in that situation would have done, I told my mother that I’d just remembered that crucial stage of my (pre-)life. That’s when she told me that I hadn’t experienced a memory, but a dream - although to be honest I didn’t quite agree with her at the time.
I remember scrunching tiny little fists hard into Misty’s black fur to steady myself. Each step was so much effort and concentration. But Misty was with me, we walked together.
The alligators at the Brookfield Zoo when I was two.
I doubt they remembered me. But they are dead. I live.
The earliest memory that I can date accurately is the eruption of Mount St. Helens on May 18, 1980. I remember seeing it on the news just before going to bed and being terrified by that huge ash column. My dad had to tell me that it was happening very far away to calm me down. I was 5.
But I’ve got other, almost certainly earlier memories than that although I can’t say how old I was at the time:
- Eating macaroni and cheese in the kitchen one summer evening while the radio was playing in the living room.
- Playing with a couple of plush toys in my bed one morning. It must be a very early memory because I don’t remember playing with or even seeing these toys growing up, apart from that one time.
And perhaps:
- Undergoing tonsillectomy and a few months later adenoidectomy (or the other way round). I what I do remember for sure is that I was quite calm the first time until they put the anaesthesia mask on my face. It smelled bad and I felt as if I could not breathe properly. The second time, there was a very nice nurse who was showing me various machines and instruments prior to the surgery while I was already sitting on the operating table. I liked it. It was fun. Then, she took the anaesthesia mask and put it on her face, still smiling. And I totally freaked out. I bet she must have regretted doing this.
I remember a lot from when I was 3, but I don’t know which memory was the very first. One was my first few days of preschool. I used to cry when my mom left, but one day my friend said something along the lines of “I thought we didn’t cry anymore”, so I stopped. Soon after, my teacher referred to me and my best friends Eddie and Nicole as “The Three Musketeers” and I remember thinking that was weird, because I felt they were both MY best friends, but they weren’t best friends with each other. In retrospect, I have no clue how accurate that was. I do know my teacher wasn’t infallible though because we once had a disagreement over whether a Magna-Doodle was called a Magna-Doodle (which it was), or a Magic-Doodle, which she for some reason insisted it was called even though it said Magna-Doodle right on it. And that is my first memory of “sometimes grownups are wrong”. It was very surprising.
I remember *remembering *my third birthday party, but I don’t remember the party itself, or any time before that.
The oldest may be when we got a new car, but I’m not sure. I also remember the time I stuck my finger in a light socket (I was unharmed).
The clearest was when my grandfather bought a new boat. I was three or four; I woke up and my father asked, “What should we call grandpa’s new boat?” I said, “Summasalt.” I have no idea how that came into my head, but that’s what they named the boat.
I think I was almost 3. It was December 1992 or January 1993, I was in the hospital. I vaguely remember being taken home, I think. It was a rainy day if I recall correctly.
My father rebuilding a carburetor from his Hudson Hornet when I was around 3 YO. I was really, really interested in it according to my Dad. No wonder I grew up to be a mechanic on cars, aircraft, and bicycles!
I remember a lot of things from age 3. Not lengthy memories, more like snapshots. Like mom painting tulips on my pink walls, sitting in daddy’s leather recliner, climbing the 2 steps from the kitchen to LR, mom pulling a sheet of cookies out of the oven, playing with specific toys, and several things about being at day care at the church, even the ladies who worked there.
I remember looking up and seeing an electric light while I was lying on a table. I looked down, and saw my mother changing my diaper. I looked to the left and saw my sister reading a book, then noticed the wallpaper–dark red with yellow chicks and white broken eggs. I looked up at the light again and had the idea that I could bring this into my mind anytime I wanted.
When I mentioned this memory to my mother years later, she told me we did live in a house when the kitchen had that wallpaper, but moved from there when I was eighteen months old.
I remember my Dad telling us that our Mom wouldn’t be bringing home the new sibling we’d been promised. I couldn’t have been three, I remember how grave my Dad was and thinking how odd it was as youngest brother was still a baby who could not possibly understand, why tell him?
About age 6: People stepping over me while looking at our house, which was for sale. Oh yeah, Was in a body cast at the time.
My oldest reliable memory is from when I was 5 or 6.
My parents, siblings, and I visited my grandparents in upstate NY one early Spring, during which period my grandparents took me with them to the local shopping district. At one stop they left me in the car and said they’d be right back. Before very long I started to become worried, and not much longer than that before I’d convinced myself they weren’t coming back and started crying. By the time they came back to the car I was a mess.
I have no idea how long I was in the car alone; I didn’t have a watch, don’t remember if I could tell time at that age even if I had one, and the concept of the passage of time was still somewhat new to me, but I suspect it wasn’t a very long period of time as my grandparents, upon their return, were shocked by how upset I was.
I am in my 50s now, but I will never forget being alone in that car and how hopeless I felt.