Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time surrounded by childhood memories.
I’ve been scanning my kids’ old artwork, school pictures, report cards, birthday cards, and all those little things I saved over the years. Things that probably didn’t seem all that important when I tucked them into a box have suddenly become treasures now that my kids are grown.
As I’ve been working my way through all of these boxes, I’ve also been learning more about how to preserve old family papers and photographs so these little pieces of our family history aren’t lost.
A crooked little drawing.
A report card from elementary school.
A birthday card written in a child’s handwriting.
A school picture with a missing tooth.
I pick something up, and suddenly I’m not sitting here scanning papers anymore. I’m back in our little house with four kids running around, and for just a minute, they’re little again.
And boy, do I wish I could go back.
The Childhood Memories I Didn’t Know I’d Miss So Much
When my kids were little, life was busy. Really busy.
There were four children to raise, a husband, a house, meals, school, homework, activities, laundry, appointments, and a million other things that somehow had to get done every day.
A lot of the time, I think I was simply in survival mode.
I remember thinking that someday life would get easier. I even remember wishing those years would hurry up a little.
Sheesh! What was wrong with me???
Of course, I know what was wrong with me. I was tired. Raising children is hard. When you’re in the middle of it, you don’t have the benefit of knowing how much you’re going to miss it someday.
You just know that someone needs a clean shirt tomorrow, somebody can’t find their shoes, dinner needs to be made, there’s a school paper that needs to be signed, and somehow you still haven’t had five minutes to yourself.
Now I would take those exhausting days back in a heartbeat.
I would take the noise.
I would take the mess.
I would take the endless laundry and the busy schedules and trying to keep six people going in the same general direction.
Because it would mean they were all home again.
Raising Four Kids in Our Little House
We raised our children in a house that was about 1,500 square feet.
There were six of us living there, and somehow we made it work.
Then the kids started growing up and leaving home, so naturally we bought a bigger house.
LOL.
Seriously, how does that make any sense?
We have more room now, but I miss that little house.
I miss family dinners with everyone around the table. I miss family outings and family trips. I miss sitting together watching movies. I miss all six of us simply being in the same place at the same time.
There was something wonderful about being packed into that little house together.
Even our queen-size bed wasn’t safe.
I remember our kids coming into our bedroom and piling onto the bed with us. Our two younger boys especially would climb into bed with my husband and me.
A queen-size bed.
Two adults.
Kids piled everywhere.
I’m not entirely sure how we all fit.
At the time, I’m sure there were mornings when I would have appreciated a little more room. Now I’d give just about anything to have one of those mornings back.
Those are the childhood memories nobody tells you will become precious.
Not necessarily the big birthdays or expensive vacations.
Sometimes it’s just everybody squished together on a bed.
All Those Little Firsts
Going through the things my kids left behind has reminded me just how many firsts there were.
The first day of school.
The first time they rode their bikes.
The first time they helped me make cookies.
Food holds so many memories for me, too. I’ve written before about how familiar foods became especially important in our family as I learned to understand my son’s sensory issues with food.
First teachers. First friends. First accomplishments. First times doing things all by themselves.
When you’re raising children, the firsts seem endless.
You celebrate one and another one comes along.
And then, somehow, the firsts start becoming lasts without you realizing it.
There’s a last time a child climbs into your bed.
A last time you walk them into elementary school.
A last family dinner before somebody moves away.
A last vacation when all of the kids are still kids.
Most of the time, we don’t know it’s the last time when it’s happening.
Maybe that’s why these childhood memories feel so precious to me now.
I look at their artwork and their school papers and see more than paper. I see the little hands that made them.
I look at an old picture and remember who that child was at that moment.
I look at their handwriting and can almost hear their little voices again.
That’s probably why scanning all of this has been much more emotional than I expected.
I’m not just organizing old papers.
I’m visiting my babies.
The Little Things My Kids Left Behind
My children are grown now.
Even the son who still lives at home has his own life, as he should.
That’s what we raise our children to do. We want them to grow up, become independent, build lives of their own, and figure out who they’re going to be.
But nobody really prepares you for how quiet things can feel when they do.
I miss having everybody home.
I miss the simpler times when our lives revolved around one another a little more.
And yes, I know those days didn’t actually feel simple while I was living them.
They felt exhausting.
They felt complicated.
They sometimes felt like they would never end.
Now I know they ended much too quickly.
As I’ve been scanning these childhood memories, I’ve cried more than once. I’m even sitting here with tears in my eyes as I write this.
But they’re good tears.
They’re tears for a life I was lucky enough to live.
For family dinners.
For bike rides.
For first days of school.
For making cookies together.
For family trips and movie nights.
For four kids growing up in a little 1,500-square-foot house.
For six people somehow fitting on a queen-size bed.
For all the ordinary days I didn’t realize were going to become some of my favorite childhood memories.
If you’re still in the middle of raising your babies and you’re tired, I understand. I remember those days.
You don’t have to love every minute of it. Some minutes are really hard.
Just every once in a while, stop and look around.
Listen to the noise.
Notice the shoes by the door, the backpacks on the floor, the fingerprints, the drawings taped to the refrigerator, and the child climbing into your bed when you’d really like to sleep.
Someday, those little things may be the things you miss the most.
And if your children are grown like mine, maybe you understand why an old birthday card or a slightly crumpled piece of construction paper can bring tears to your eyes.
They’re little pieces of a life that went by much faster than we ever thought it would.
I wouldn’t trade those years for anything.
And I will always, always treasure the little things my kids left behind.
What little thing from your children’s childhood brings back the most memories for you?
Making every house feel a little more like home.
