I need a lot of therapy; instead I search for this lost childhood toy

"I've wasted a decade... I can't have been the only kid in the world to have one of these...?" Can you help our desperate Parenting Editor?

I came home for a weekend in my first year of uni to find my bedroom had been cleared out.

My mother - the least sentimental person in the world - had packed up all my childhood toys, and donated my entire life.

Admittedly, to children much less fortunate than I was, but that's not the point, is it?

It was a bloody rude shock to say the least that arrive home expecting a table full of my fave mum-recipes, to instead discover my bedroom emptied of any trace of moi.

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So began the search for my favourite toys

Unlike my mum, who I'm sure loves me deeeeeeppp in her heart somewhere, I'm incredibly sentimental. I had always planned to pass on my fave toys to my own kids.

So I was devastated at the loss of my first generation Cabbage Patch doll, Barbie campervan and dollhouse, my LEGO sets, Carebears... (yes, yes, I was spoilt - again, I blame my mother).

But what I missed the most was my Telephone Dollhouse.

It was a mid-size dollhouse, that opened in the middle - but instead of the roof, there was a rotary dial, and a receiver.

It sort of looked like this one, but more fancy and way cooler:

My Telephone Dollhouse looked like this, but sick AF. Image: Pinterest

So this is how sentimental I am: I still remember my CPD's name was Karina, and her birthday was 1st September.

I think the reason I've been so attached to the memory of this dollhouse is because it came into my life and made a core memory. It was a rainy weekend arvo, we'd rented Oliver Twist on VHS from Blockbuster, and mum came home with the dollhouse.

The family was together, it was after lunch, and my sisters gathered around me in front of the TV as I unboxed (yes, people have been opening packages since way before it was an online activity) this wonder dollhouse.

No, the phone didn't work - it was the late 1980s. But everything in it was mini, and super cute, and I was so in love.

Nekt minit (well a decade later) I left home for uni and some lucky/in need kid got it.

Yeah, yeah, it had served its purpose in my life and it should be someone else's turn. I definitely feel that way about a lot of things I've donated in my life.

But. Not. My. Telephone. Dollhouse.

Nama is Gen X, 48, a mum...and still living in the past. Image: Nama Winston

RELATED: ‘How rude’: My folks dumped my childhood stuff

This is where you come in

After going to local fairs and casually looking in op shops, I eventually began to search in earnest - thanks to the interwebs.

I couldn't believe there was not even a photo of anything that looked similar. I even dragged my head-Googler, my younger sister, and we were so perplexed - I couldn't have been the only kid in the world to have one of these?

(Note: If you are wondering why I didn't get a life in this time, what actually happened was a serious of traumas that made me want to find that wonderful core memory even more. But you can still laugh at me - I certainly have).

The today, a miracle happened: a friend at work, a Googler-ninja, found the above images - the closest we've been so far. (And yes my sister is fired.)

Ok, so now you guys are tasked with sharing this in online groups everywhere. Offer a ransom (which I shan't pay), use emotional blackmail and  all the tricks in your arsenal - and bring my Telephone Dollhouse back to me.

Please and thank you.

Originally published as I need a lot of therapy; instead I search for this lost childhood toy