When I’m not playing mom taxi this summer, I’m tackling the house, one room at a time. Every room is getting the three pile treatment before being carefully organized. An old toy in a new location gets fresh attention. Lost socks are found in completely inexplicable locations. That ‘weird’ smell is finally identified as a petrified apple core. Basically, all the stuff that has to be done to keep us from becoming an episode of Hoarders.

I have made it to the fourth bedroom and while the giant pile of donations for Ladies of Charity is nice, the thing that is making this process worthwhile was unexpected. In the nooks and crannies where my children tuck their treasures, I found notes from their teachers. An index card with a paragraph of praise, a note explaining the hazards of a slovenly desk and a simple wish for a fun weekend were so important that they were kept with the super shiny rocks, tooth fairy coins and unopened candy. The words that teachers took the extra time to carefully write, just for that child, mattered so much that my children saved them.

So, of course, I saved them too.