
This has been a long, cold, snowy winter.
When I was a kid, I remember snow sticking around most of the season.
Roads stayed packed, boots stayed wet, and winter felt… steady. Most of my adult winters have looked different—snow, then a random forty-degree day, everything melts and starts over. This year, the snow stayed. And oddly enough, it felt a little nostalgic.
That feeling carried into a recent conversation my mom and I had about how I spent winters growing up compared to how my daughter spends hers now.
Times really have changed.
I wasn’t a true latchkey kid, but childhood still felt… looser. On snowy days, I’d throw on my moon boots, layer up, grab my sled, and wander over to pick up a friend along the way. We’d all go to the biggest hill in the neighborhood—which, looking back, probably wasn’t that big at all. We built ramps. We sledded until our legs were tired and our gloves were soaked.
There were no cell phones. Our parents had a general idea of where we were, but not our exact location at all times. Somehow, they trusted that we’d come home when we were cold enough. Sometimes I’d stop at a friend’s house for hot chocolate and call home to ask if I could stay—only to hear the dreaded busy signal.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
I’d stay, warm up, and eventually head home.
Now, things look different.
We have a small hill on the side of our house. I help my daughter into her snow gear, zip every zipper, check for exposed skin. I keep an eye on the time. I check in often. I communicate with neighbor parents if there’s even a hint of movement toward another yard. Water breaks are required. Schedules loom. Homework and practices wait in the background.
She still has fun—and I know she’ll remember sledding down our very small incline with a smile someday. But I can’t help wondering if something has shifted.
Is there less freedom now?
Or just a different kind of care?
Should I trust her instincts more, the way our parents trusted ours?
While I was sitting with all of this, I pulled out a small nostalgia bin and found a few things that made me pause: a troll doll, a Koosh ball, a Teenie Beanie from McDonald’s, and an old Nintendo game. It made me smile—and laugh—remembering a time when you could fix a game by blowing into it, as long as the TV was set to channel 03.
What even was channel 03?
I don’t have a neat answer here. Just a feeling. A longing for the simplicity we remember, even as we know every generation experiences childhood differently. Winter has a way of stirring up those memories—of snow days growing up, of freedom that felt normal at the time, and of how parenting then vs. now can feel worlds apart.
I’d love to know—what are some of your favorite winter or childhood memories that look nothing like your kids’ experiences today?
If you enjoy these quiet reflections on motherhood, memory, and everyday moments, I’d love to have you here more often. You can subscribe below to receive occasional notes from me—nothing fancy, just thoughtful words for real life. 🤍
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