Santa, Me, and My Mom As A Seamstress

Ahhhh... Christmas. A fellow blogger posted a black and white photo of himself with the big man and that image stirred up my own memories of childhood holidays.

My mom knew how to make me into one stylin' girl, that's a fact. For as long as I can remember, she made my clothes and even now, my favorite color is pink.

My own daughter, no doubt, will question the length of this dress. Yes, it's short and yes, I still have those same looking knobby knees.

Another beautifully-made dress... I love the apron with this one. Now maybe you understand why I love aprons to this day. It just makes the woman.

Another apron! Score! And yes, I still believe in Santa at this age and yes, this is the same Santa! Gotta love small towns and holiday traditions.

Obviously, I hope, the sophistication of my pantsuit should indicate that this will be the final picture of Santa and me. The man has to be wondering how many more years he will see that redheaded girl. I wonder if he looked for me the next year.



My parents worked hard to keep the dream alive and for that, I am forever thankful. Because of the memories I had, I carried those traditions on to my own family and have often said that the fun of the Christmas season was putting our little ones to bed after they had meticulously set out a plate of cookies and a cup of milk with the big guy in mind. The memories of those joyous squeals in the morning preceded by the pounding of little feet will always bring a smile to my face. My proudest moment, though, would have to be the year the reindeer left remnants of their midnight snack of carrots in the snow in full view of the living room window. Oh my. I can still see those kids, noses pressed to the cold glass, talking among themselves about Santa's reindeer. For me, that memory is equivalent to the year my grandpa told me he had seen the red glow of Rudolph's nose high in the winter sky on a Christmas Eve while he was locking up the doors of the factory. Even now, I remember the excitement and awe I felt as a child.

Those are the kinds of memories that time just cannot touch.
Kind of like the outfits my mom use to make me.

Forever cool.