A Gift for Mom! 🤍

It’s Noveeeeeeemmmmberrrrrr! And in our house, that means “Jingle Bells” plays on Pandora. The Grinch plays on the TV. And red and green and glitter and gold start to pop up around the house. Yep, my friends. I’m one of those. We still enjoy the other fall holidays and traditions, so don’t hate, but Christmastime is hands-down my fave, and I stretch it out as long as I can. 

One of the reasons I think I love this time of year so much is because I had such memorable childhood Christmases. My mom went all out with no fewer than five snowmen and/or Santas in every room of the house, and had a tray of homemade cookies for every person she knew. She shopped year-round with a meager budget, ensuring my sister and I woke up to a pile of gifts that engulfed our tiny living room. 

And another reason? Probably because I grew up during THE BEST decades of the 20th century. And if you disagree, I have just one thing to say: Mariah Carey’s Merry Christmas album. Boom. That’s it. Hands down there is no better holiday music, and I will fight you over it.

But Christmases in the 90s extended far beyond the glory of “All I Want for Christmas is Youuuuuuu…” They were totally awesome for so many other reasons.

Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we?

If you were a 90s girl, you may have loved N’Sync more than you loved Mariah, and that’s cool. So throughout the holiday season, you may or may not have also popped their Christmas album into your Discman. Or 98 Degrees. Or Hanson. Or all of the above while you wrote out your wish list. 

And that list likely included the Dream Phone, a Tamagotchi, and, if you were aiming super high, your own VHS recorder. 

Other possible wishes likely included a Bop-It and a Furby. Maybe you had a brother who prayed to the Santa gods for a Playstation but also thought a Super Soaker and new Game Boy would be rad.

Or maybe you had annoying little siblings who really wanted Tickle Me Elmos and Beanie Babies, and your mom probably came home exhausted with a black eye after fighting someone named Carol for the last ones on the shelf.

In the end, if you just got the jeans you wanted from Abercrombie, or a gift card to Abercrombie, or really just any reason to go into an Abercrombie, your Christmas would be made (even if you ended up buying most of your stuff on sale at the Gap like your friend Brittany did.)

If you were a 90s girl, you were probably suckered into watching Home Alone (again) and The Santa Clause (again) while everyone crammed onto one couch and ate cheeseballs or maybe some Danish butter cookies your aunt sent over in a Santa tin.

And your whole family would laugh hysterically when that one bad guy gets whacked in the face with the iron.

And your younger brother walked around throughout December saying “Keep the change ya filthy animal!” Ugggggghhh. Every year, right? But halfway through, you’d find yourself laughing, too, and realize that your family’s not so bad, especially if they let you watch the hotness of Jonathan Taylor Thomas in I’ll Be Home for Christmas next or Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas in the basement with your friends that weekend. 

But you also knew your younger siblings would get to pick next and they’d fight over the Muppet Christmas Carol and Mickey’s Once Upon a Christmas, and your mom would have a turn and she’d totally pick some romantic comedy that makes like zero sense like While You Were Sleeping. 

The best thing about 90s Christmases though was that we all learned the real meaning of Christmas from the families who told us the truth—the Tanners. And, if we missed TGIF because we were at the mall looking for a new Christmas outfit at Contempo Casuals or Limited Too, the Saved by the Bell cast would likely deliver a similar message the following morning. 

And, since 90s kids watched real, actual TV because we didn’t have Minecraft or Fortnite or YouTube to watch Ryan’s Toy Review, we also got to experience classic Christmas commercials like the one with Hershey’s Kisses dancing to “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” or the one with a bunch of polar bears drinking Coke, or my all-time fave—this Campbell Soup ad. Man, our kids are missing out! 

90s Christmases rocked. They really did.

There was no joy greater than circling what you wanted or folding the pages of catalogs that came in the mail and hoping Santa would bring you that Doodle Bear or those roller blades or the Talkboy tape recorder Kevin McAllister used to scare away the robbers. 

90s kids were forced to soak in the magic as we got dragged to the mall with our parents to shop for a gift for Grandma at Sears. 90s kids didn’t have the Elf on the Shelf or Amazon wish lists. We had advent calendars with tiny doors we got to open every day to reveal . . . well, not much of anything, really. But it was still exciting. Also, we had this tree, and we fought over who got to plug it in every night.

And on Christmas day, the 90s kid would then go over to Grandma’s to give her the new tablecloth or CorningWare your mom bought, and you’d have to eat pot roast, but at least you knew Grandma would sneak you a few Ferrero Roches and maybe a macaroon before you opened the new reindeer scarf she knitted to match the reindeer hat she made last year. 

And you’d say thank you and promise to wear it. Because it was Grandma. 

Honestly, I wouldn’t trade a single one of my 90s Christmases for all the modern technology and Justin Bieber and Michael Buble holiday music we have today. I still blast Mariah. I still get my kids advent calendars. And I still drag myself to the mall, just to walk around. So there’s no more Sam Goody or Sharper Image. In fact, as malls die, there isn’t really much of anything anymore.

But part of the magic of the 90s Christmas was having to go out into the world and interact with other people.

It was about standing in line behind a mom writing a check and putting her kids’ gifts on layaway. It was about wanting that Abercrombie sweater and knowing you’d probably get the JCPenney one instead. But that was OK. Because choosing the JCPenney one meant your parents probably could afford to get you the Dream Phone after all. And it was totally worth it. 

I may not have a Discman anymore or a ceramic plug-in tree, and my list may include things like “new towels” and “Kohls leggings” now, but the magic and memories of my 90s childhood are still there. And for that, I am grateful. 

Recommendations in this post contain affiliate links. Her View From Home may receive a small commission if you choose to purchase.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Karen Johnson

Karen Johnson is a freelance writer who is known on social media as The 21st Century SAHM. She is an assistant editor at Sammiches and Psych Meds, staff writer and social media manager for Scary Mommy, and is the author of I Brushed My Hair Today, A Mom Journal for Mostly Together Moms. Follow Karen on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/21stcenturysahm/, Twitter https://twitter.com/21stcenturysahm , and Instagram https://www.instagram.com/the21stcenturysahm/

I’m Constantly Waiting for the Metaphorical Axe To Fall

In: Living
Woman worried with head in lap

I knew people died. I just didn’t think it applied to us. Mortality met me in grade two with a punch to the gut when my teacher confirmed casually that, yes, everybody dies. What do you mean, everybody dies? I frantically thought, but kept my question to myself. Up until that moment, I had quietly believed my family was exempt from that fate. I thought death was a monster that only took other people and left my family alone. They say all panic has an origin story, and mine began shortly after that realization, fueled by a disconnected phone cord...

Keep Reading

The Apology You Deserve May Never Come

In: Living
Woman standing in field wearing hat

“You have to accept that you will likely never get the apology you deserve.” When my therapist said those words, I felt everything at once-anger, resentment, heartbreak. It was as if the air had been pulled straight from my lungs. Because accepting that truth meant letting go of something I had been holding onto for a long time: the hope that one day, it would all be acknowledged. My family was deeply wronged. Not in a way that can be brushed off or easily forgotten, but in a way that cut to the core. There were lies wrapped in deception,...

Keep Reading

To the Little Girl With Pink Flowers on Her Shoes and Courage in Her Heart

In: Living
Little girl in t-ball outfit

To the little girl with pink flowers on her white shoes and lacy fold-down socks, down and ready, tee ball glove in hand, teeth marks worn into the top. The Pittsburgh Pirates hat from Uncle Dave, a sign of camaraderie. A part of something bigger than herself. A too-long, locally sponsored t-shirt, tied up with a ponytail. Jean shorts and a belt. The type of ordinary only childhood can be. When ordinary is more than enough. No one can tell in this picture that you were scared. That you didn’t feel ready. That behind that tiny-toothed grin you were holding...

Keep Reading

Keep Searching for the Perfect Pair of Jeans

In: Living
Woman shopping for jeans

I don’t know about you, but finding a good pair of jeans has always felt like a process to me. These are too tight. Those are too loose. They fit my thighs but bunch at my hips. The dreaded waist gap. Too short—high waters. Too long, and suddenly you can’t find your legs. Before you know it, you’re ordering your fourth pair and eyeing a fifth. A woman on a mission. And still, as I stand there looking in the mirror at everything that doesn’t quite work, I just know there is a perfect pair out there for me. Somewhere....

Keep Reading

Why I Had My Benign Breast Lumps Removed

In: Living
Doctor examines mammogram images

My journey with monitoring benign breast lumps began in July of 2020 when my OB-GYN found a lump. I was sent home with an ultrasound referral. I called immediately after I got home and asked for the soonest appointment at any location. I had a young son, and was absolutely terrified. They got me in at the end of the week. My husband was on vacation that week, and what should have been an enjoyable family time was plagued with worry. At the ultrasound appointment, they saw two small lumps. I was told these were “likely benign” and was given...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living
Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

Farewell To the Bus Stop Moms

In: Friendship
Four women pose in residential street

It seems like just yesterday I was writing a piece about my last baby going off to kindergarten. I poured my heart out into words about how she was going to find her place in the world, and how I was going to find a new sense of belonging. I wrote, “I was able to find a bit of ‘me’ again. She has barely left my side in almost six years, so her absence is still fresh and foreign. But I know her jubilant little self will be just fine. And just like that, she’s on her way. And so...

Keep Reading

May is Maternal Mental Health Month, and So Many Moms Are Quietly Drowning

In: Living
Mother with baby strapped to chest

I’ve given birth to four beautiful boys and lived through four postpartum experiences. Each one has been different, yet there are familiar threads that run through them all. In the first couple of weeks after my first baby was born, I felt carefree…until that bubble was popped. My newborn got sick and was admitted to the PICU at a children’s hospital 30 minutes from our home. At one point, doctors mentioned the possibility of meningitis, but after many tests and a several-day admission, we were sent home. When we were discharged, a doctor left me with these words, “It’s your...

Keep Reading

The Hard Truth about Friendship in Your 40s

In: Friendship
Two people fishing on a dock

No one can really prepare you for how much friendships change in your 40s. We expect life shifts—kids grow, schedules fill, jobs demand more, and aging parents need us in new ways. Time becomes tighter, priorities change, and naturally, friendships have to adjust. That part makes sense, right? But what doesn’t get talked about enough is the quiet, hard shift, the one where it’s not just time or distance creating friendship gaps, but something deeper. What happens when you look around your “table” and realize it no longer feels like a safe place to land? What happens when you start...

Keep Reading

Sisterhood is So Special

In: Living
Vintage photo of sisters in pajamas

There’s something about sisterhood that’s so special. It’s having someone who’s seen every version of you—every awkward, messy, beautiful version—and loves you through it. Someone who holds a piece of your heart in a way nobody else can. Someone who remembers the little things that made you…you. And my sister? She’s that person for me. We couldn’t be more different. She’s extroverted, the life of the party, spontaneous, the more the merrier, always seeing the good in everything. I’m the cautious one, the loner, the guarded one, more comfortable sitting on the sidelines. I’ve always admired her and secretly wished...

Keep Reading