Christmas has always been my favorite holiday and several years ago, I wrote a column about why it was, and also shared some of my most memorable Christmases.

So, with time running short since my grandsons are about to knock on my door ready for me to take them Christmas shopping for their mother, I thought I would share again why Christmas has always been special and revisit some of those memories once again.

It all began with my childhood Christmases. They were filled with visits to my grandparents’ homes, delicious food and piles of presents under the Christmas tree.

Hence, when I had children of my own, I wanted to make sure my little family could have the same experience, so I attempted to make things spectacular. And back in those days, that meant doing it all myself, like Martha Stewart. I worshipped that woman.

So, as I had said back then, with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head, I decided to trim every corner of the house with ribbons, garland and twinkling lights after perusing the holiday decorations from magazine pages.

In an effort to replicate those holiday trimmings, I struck out on missions to make the most wonderful adornments and embellishments angels could behold.

My first attempt was the year I single-handedly cut cedar from all around town. I constructed wreaths and garlands for every door and window of my house with needle-nose pliers and floral wire. With drops of blood from my mutilated hands, I personalized the blue moiré ribbon I used for bows.

I knew Santa’s elves would be proud.

This little obsession with the do-it-yourself Martha mentality lingered for years.

There was another Christmas when I decided to wrap all the presents under the tree with coordinating paper and ribbon. It looked fabulous on those magazine pages. And certainly, the store clerks appreciated my notion; they didn’t have to wrap gifts for me.

On Christmas Eve, however, I was rethinking how lovely it looked, because I was still wrapping.

Then there was the year I cooked miniature cakes, wrapped them in colorful plastic wrap and delivered sweets to friends. And I will never forget that year I decided to make handmade cross-stitched gifts.

I was up so late trying to finish, I think I heard the prancing and pawing of each little hoof on the roof.

As time passed, my do-it-yourself image began to wane and new faces started showing up in my décor, like Christopher Radko, Fontanini and Department 56.

I began collecting beautiful store-bought decorations instead of creating my own, and I began spending more of my time shopping for presents and standing in gift-wrap lines. It seemed my DIY days were over.

But then the unplanned happened: I found myself living in an apartment with all my decorations in storage. Christmas was near and to make things even direr, my 9-month-old son was hospitalized with pneumonia.

What was I to do?

Fortunately, my Martha ghost of Christmas past returned and while my son slept, my two young daughters and I sat in the hospital hallway making ornaments out of poster board using cookie cutters and glitter. These would be the only ornaments that year for our tree that engulfed the small living space.

I was feeling blue that this was the best I could do for decorations, but ironically, it turns out, this is the Christmas my daughters reminisce most about.

So when they say, “Mama, do you remember when,” like the Grinch, my heart grows and grows and grows because each year, I too, remember that Christmas — the one where love was the best decoration of all.

I just never tire of remembering this story. Do you have a Christmas story you like remembering?