When my mother was expecting me, my grandmother crafted a beautiful cross-stitched blanket. From infancy, it became my cherished possession, which I affectionately referred to as my “white one.” I took it everywhere, and over the years, it became quite worn and frayed. Eventually, I grew out of it and assumed my mother had discarded it.
Fast forward to when I was expecting my first child; my mother surprised me by bringing back the white one. I was astonished that she had kept it all those years, having forgotten all about it. Despite its worse condition than I remembered, the familiarity it brought was overwhelming. I felt that comforting warmth in my stomach, reminiscent of my childhood. Tears welled in my eyes, and I was immensely thankful to my mother for preserving it. She could have easily thrown it away, but she understood its sentimental value and knew that I would treasure it one day.
My mother has an incredible ability to recognize what truly matters. Growing up with three brothers, countless toys, clothes, and school projects came and went, but anything we showed a special interest in found its way into her storage, often unnoticed by us.
When my daughter was born, after having three sons, my mother gifted me Sherry Amelda, my beloved Cabbage Patch Kid. With her bright orange pigtails and faint baby powder scent, Sherry Amelda now resides in my daughter’s nursery, symbolizing the love I had for that doll and the love I have for my daughter, circling back after 37 years.
It wasn’t just toys; my mother held onto other cherished items too. In seventh grade, I received a pair of Guess Jeans, the first designer piece I owned. They were a luxury, a treat I knew was a sacrifice for my mom. When I outgrew them and transitioned to a grunge style, she thoughtfully kept those jeans, and now my daughter will wear them during spirit week, impressing her teachers with their iconic upside-down triangle.
My Barbie Dream House, my old Girl Scout uniform, and my first tap shoes still reside in her basement, along with G.I. Joe figures and Care Bears. Remember Umbro shorts? There are a few pairs tucked away, and I think there might even be a leather bomber jacket. Old report cards, school projects, and college acceptance letters are all there too. It may just be “stuff,” but that “stuff” stirs emotions that are hard to articulate. There’s undeniable nostalgia, but more profoundly, it reflects my mother’s love for us. She understood that we’d want to hold onto pieces of our childhood, and I’m following in her footsteps.
I tend to hoard memories, but as my children grow, I find it easier to part with items that lack significance while holding onto those that will mean something to them later. For instance, I keep a special Mickey Mouse Christmas sweater my son chose after a memorable Disney trip, and it’s not going anywhere.
In my kids’ keepsake boxes are Thomas the Train shirts, first pairs of shoes, and monogrammed baby sweaters in case any of my sons have children. That beloved blanket you were embarrassed for friends to see? Don’t worry; it’s safely stored in a weatherproof bin in the basement. Some memories are for me alone. I can’t bear to throw away any artwork with handprints; those memories are etched in my heart. Maybe one day, but certainly not today.
I haven’t gone through the toys yet for a big garage sale, but I already know which items will be kept because my future grandchildren will play with them just as my kids do with the old Little People sets at my parents’ place. This means many Marvel figures, playsets, and the American Girl collection will have a permanent home someday. My partner disagrees, but I believe my children will appreciate these treasures.
As an adult, I now understand the sentiment behind these belongings. The years spent raising children fly by, and all we wish for is to slow down, even for just a day. Time is fleeting, and it goes by faster and faster. By preserving a handful of mementos from her children’s early years, my mother can relive what she calls the happiest days of her life. I share that sentiment wholeheartedly.
When the time comes, I’ll let my children decide what to keep or discard. They may not want anything, and that’s perfectly okay. However, I believe I’ve inherited my mother’s knack for recognizing what’s truly valuable, and I’ll strive to preserve a few items here and there.
Perhaps those cowboy boots will be perfect for your son on Western Day? Or you might want to keep that tiny giraffe, feeling its softness transport you back to simpler times. When frustration arises, a reminder of your childhood love for your mother can be found in the beautiful handmade card you created for her.
I know it’s just stuff, but some of it holds immense significance. I am incredibly grateful to my mother for safeguarding these memories. As the years go by, I’ll continue to tuck away items that mean something special. You never know when a piece of the past will provide a comforting reminder in the present.
For more stories about parenting and nostalgia, check out this blog post. You can also learn more about the journey of pregnancy and home insemination through excellent resources like Medical News Today and Intracervical Insemination.
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Summary:
The author reflects on the sentimental value of childhood items preserved by their mother, such as a beloved blanket and toys, and how this tradition continues with their own children. The piece emphasizes the importance of holding onto memories and cherished items as a way to cherish the past and connect with loved ones.