When I was a senior in high school, I moved out of my mother's house. I left out of necessity rather than a desire to be independent. At the time, I was living with no running water and no electricity. When I left, I took very little with me - my canopy bed (because I thought I might someday have a daughter who would enjoy it) and my clothes. I left everything else behind. Unfortunately, over the next few years my mother managed to lose most of her earthly belongings, including all of my childhood artifacts. I have no adorable outfits from when I was a baby. I have no artwork from my childhood. I have none of my awards from school. I have very few pictures of me as a child. Everything is all gone. It is like my entire childhood never existed (on paper, at least). Although I would like to casually shrug it off, it bothers me. I wish that I had at least grabbed a photo album before I left.
I now find myself obsessively taking pictures of my kids, stashing away all of their artwork, and saving every cute article of clothing they have ever owned. It is hard to find a balance. I try so hard not to be like my mother, that I end up being obsessive. When I try to throw away goofy pictures my kids painted or even a simple page filled with scribbles, my heart aches. I love everything they do, and keeping all of these little creations will help me to remember. I never want to forget a second of their childhood.