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As a mom, I've often heard that childhood goes by in a blink. When you're in the trenches of parenting young children, it's hard to believe the sleepless nights, diapers, and crying will ever end.
Then, suddenly, you wake up with teenagers and wonder where the time went. I'm fortunate to have a rich digital history of my children and the ability to instantly bring up photos and memories. Social media can be both a sweet reminder of those innocent days and a dagger in the heart, realizing they're over.
While I love to have digital memories, I am more traditional and like to hold onto things. When my oldest son started preschool in 2010, I kept each homemade Christmas ornament he and his three siblings created. And then, one day, I accidentally threw them out.
I would decorate my memory tree's branches with sweet little handprints, photos, and macaroni art annually. I wrote on the container I kept them in, "Under penalty of death, do not stack anything on this box! My entire life is in this box! Love, Mom."
When I took down my tree in 2023, I realized I had amassed a pretty large collection of homemade treasures and needed a bigger container. I put some in my original red container, but the bulk went into a new tote that I didn't mark as clearly. That is my most painful parenting regret.
Last Christmas, I went to retrieve my ornaments, and they were gone. I discovered I had accidentally donated the nondescript tote to a thrift store months earlier.
There are no words to describe how I felt. It was the worst guilt, loss, and frustration I've ever felt.
Foolishly, I thought I could call the place where I took them in the fall, and they'd have saved them for months just waiting for me to retrieve them. Instead, I was greeted by someone who laughed and said they probably tossed the bag thinking it was trash.
I posted my grief on social media, and the kind words from friends helped. They made me realize that I am not the worst mom in the world and helped me give myself grace. I was unbelievably grateful for their love and support, but it was the gesture of someone who never said a word that saved Christmas.
My daughter was in second grade, and her teacher, Erin, grew up down the street from me and was my babysitter. It had been more than 30 years since I had seen her when my daughter was placed in her classroom. I loved that she would be cared for by someone from my past.
When Erin read my post, she contacted my mom and asked her permission to help. Unbeknownst to me, my daughter and her teacher spent the last few days before Christmas break creating new ornaments for my memory tree. Erin took pictures from Facebook, and they made new treasures with photos of my children as babies and throughout their childhood.
The moment my daughter presented me with the bag full of ornaments, I crumbled. The amount of love put into creating these keepsakes was equal to, if not more, than the originals.
Kids create without knowing the impact on their mom's heart. Erin painstakingly chose photos to recreate memories for me because, as a mom, she knew how I felt. As an educator, hundreds of children have been in her classroom. For decades, Erin has imparted wisdom, knowledge, and the importance of being kind. She is the true definition of leading by example.
Christmas will be different this year, but I will decorate my tree with pride and a humble heart. The treasures adorning those branches are the gift of a mother's love and a teacher's kindness. I am truly blessed.
