Colleen Dilthey Thomas
Christmas Day 2007 was unusually warm where I live. I remember putting on a pair of black pants and a red turtleneck with ruching on the sides that accentuated my growing belly. My husband took photos of me standing next to a blank brick wall in the front of our house before we left for the day. I had a huge smile on my 28-year-old face and couldn’t wait until the following year when I would be holding my baby. I remember the temperature, the bright sun, and the smell of my mother’s kitchen that Christmas day like it’s all frozen in time. In reality, 18 years have passed, and the baby I looked forward to holding is months away from adulthood and no longer needing me. And I don’t know how to explain how badly I still need him.
When he was 2 years old, he began preschool. My heart broke, but I knew it was the right place for him. I loved everything about that experience for him, but mostly the Christmas ornament he made for me. His tiny hand and fingers created Santa’s beard, and he glued his picture on top. That one ornament began a tradition, some might call it an obsession, for me. I have a Christmas tree dedicated 100% to my four children’s handmade ornaments and their school photos. This year, as I put up the tree, I had a moment of heart-wrenching clarity – this was the last school photo. Sure, I’d bought the suit, made the haircut appointment, and paid the insane amount of money for the senior picture package, but it wasn’t until I saw those eyes looking back at me that I realized how fast it’s all winding down.
Christmas morning 2025 was much different than that day in 2007. Back then, I couldn’t wait for the future. I wanted it all right then and there. I needed time to pass faster. Now, I want to stop it completely. This Christmas, there were no Yo Gabba Gabba toys or action figure sets. He wasn’t praying that Santa would leave him a giant Lego set or puppy under the tree. This year, it was about practicality and investing in items he can take for an upcoming trip and to college. Just typing the c-word makes me feel nauseated. How is that little left-handed child who stuck his tongue out while he wrote his letters ready to leave me behind?
When he was a baby, I had to feed him, bathe him, and rock him to sleep. I still feed him, purchase all his personal hygiene items, and I check his location if it’s close to curfew and he’s not home. The duties may have changed, but the passion to mother and nurture is still all inside. I know that I have to start letting some of that go, just like my own mother did, but how do you do that? How do you look at someone who you’ve quite literally kept alive since the day they were born and tell them to do it on their own?
I know that sounds so dramatic, and if someone had said that to me when I went off to college, I would have looked at them like they were insane. I felt like I knew everything and could do anything. I certainly didn’t need my parents for anything, but maybe some cash here and there. And I was right. I did just fine without them. He will, too. But that doesn’t mean that I am ready. I am positively not prepared for graduation, summer vacation, college drop off, or next Christmas.
Suddenly, it’s officially 2026, and the holiday season is over. The champagne glasses are in the dishwasher, and noisemakers are back in the drawer. At a time when I typically recommit myself to a healthier lifestyle and dream of summer vacation, I am taking a pause, knowing that in just four months, graduation day will be here. My son’s all-boys high school holds the ceremony on Mother’s Day each year. It’s a time to celebrate our boys’ accomplishments and for them to look at us and, hopefully, recognize that we did this all as a team. Talk about the sweetest gut punch you could ever receive. After he walks across the stage and we take the teary-eyed pictures, I’ll wipe my mascara, and he’ll be off to college. Yes, it’s that damn fast.
By the time the holidays come around next year, he’ll legally be an adult. I am sure that he’ll come home with plenty of laundry for me to do and a list of items he needs me to replenish. He’ll also have spent time away from me for the first time in his life. Several months without your mom changes a person, no matter what the circumstances. I certainly don’t want him to come back and tell me that he hated every minute of that first semester. But deep down, I also don’t want him to tell me he loves it so much he never wants to move back. Truth be told, that’s what I worry about the most.
I am his mom, and for nearly 18 years, I have been his home, but that might change. I want to be his safe place forever, but I am not so naïve as to think that in these next few years, he might experience something more fulfilling. A life, a career, and a family could all be on the horizon before we know it. Unlike when he was a baby, this time, I am not rushing it, but I am realizing how fast life happens, and I want to prepare myself for it.
In the meantime, I am soaking up every moment. I am preparing for the most exciting time in his life and putting a smile on my face so that it’s not the most excruciating time in mine. At our core, mothers are selfless to a fault. We give everything up for our kids to make sure they have the best life we can give them. And when they reach that maximum potential, ready to fly, it’s OK to be really pissed off that all our hard work paid off. But, just for a second. Then we need to snap back to reality and be really darn proud of them and ourselves.
Right now, I should be putting my Christmas tree away, but I’m not doing it today. Instead, I am going to sit in the dark watching the lights twinkle and look at my baby’s face just because I can. It’s the self-care I need right now. And if I run into you in the grocery store and I tear up when I look at your baby, let me have that moment. Just like I regret all those naps I never took as a kid, I should’ve listened to the 40-something moms who told me it goes by so fast. They were right—every last one of them.
Colleen Dilthey Thomas is a seasoned freelance writer and mother of four — three boys and one girl — who specializes in parenting, family life, and humor writing. With more than a decade of experience, she has contributed to leading outlets including POPSUGAR, HuffPost, INSIDER, Her View From Home, Baby Chick, and others. A Listen to Your Mother St. Louis alum and featured humorist, Colleen blends personal experience with relatable storytelling to offer parents both practical advice and comic relief. Her work resonates with readers seeking authenticity, empathy, and a little laughter in the chaos of raising kids.
