Through the years I have found that in order to keep my sanity while mothering three kids, I have to hold on to some things I did before I had children.
I like to write - always have.
It does not always show in this blog because usually I am just trying to get something, anything posted. It is usually a picture or two with a brief explanation, unless it is Wednesday - then you are on your own!
I am going to try to write more and post pictures less. Or maybe I will just write more about the pictures I post. Time will tell. In any event...I have been thinking about Christmas lately. I think it was because my mom was here....
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What do you remember most about Christmas as a child? Can you take yourself back in time? What do you see? What do you smell? What do you hear?
Christmas to me meant family. On the morning of Christmas Eve, we would pack all of our over-night-bags and gifts into our car and head to Grandma and Grandpa’s house 2 hours away. My sister and I would sing Christmas carols in the back seat, and, every once in a while, mom and dad would join in. As we got older, we even tried to harmonize. This would usually send us into a fit of giggles that lasted until we arrived at Grandma and Grandpa’s front door.
Grandma and Grandpa’s house was small. It was built in the late 1800s or early 1900s, and Grandma and Grandpa had lived there forever (or as long as forever is to a 10 year old). Grandpa had bought the house as a fixer-upper. Through the years he had added a bathroom – yep a bathroom – and a kitchen. He’d also spruced up the living room with some sleek, wood panel wall covering that was quite popular in the 1970s. This information came out years later. All I knew at the time was that this was Grandma and Grandpa’s house, and I loved going there.
When we arrived, Grandpa was always at the door to greet us and give us a great, big bear hug. He wasn’t big on saying “I love you”, but he didn’t need to say it. We knew. After hugs from Grandpa, we would race to the living room to see who could get to Grandma first. Grandma always sat in the very same spot every single time – the middle of three cushions on the sofa. I think this placement was strategic! She wanted as many people able to sit around her as possible. Grandma had arthritis. It was in her hands, gnarled and bent. It was in her feet – she could not walk without assistance. She had to be in great pain, but we kids never knew that. We just knew that Grandma loved sitting on the couch, watching soap operas, and doing crossword puzzles. Never once did I hear her complain, not once. When it was time for Grandma to walk somewhere, we raced to see who could move stuff out of her way the fastest. Then Grandpa would help her up, stand behind her, and they would walk together wherever Grandma wanted to go. I can still see them walking, swaying back and forth in time together, almost dancing, with Grandpa holding Grandma’s elbows to steady her. I remember them smiling and laughing as they made their way, slowly through the house.
Through the years, as my 7 cousins and I grew older, this extended family grew. Dates were invited, new spouses were welcomed, and babies were joyously received.
Some things didn’t change though. Grandpa always made a pot roast and ham for our big family dinner. The kitchen was his. My mom and aunts were welcome to help, but Grandpa ruled that roost! The Christmas tree, a small, table-top tree, was put up on a little table to the left of Grandma’s couch. There were gifts, although to be honest, I don’t remember half of them.
I remember Grandpa praying over the meal, thanking God for bringing us all together again safely and asking for our safe return.
I remember sitting at the kids’ table and wanting so badly to be at the big table.
I remember laughing with my cousins.
I remember my cousin Jason (now and Iraq war Veteran)and my Uncle Dick teasing each other. I remember non-stop conversation.
I remember trying to get the adults to hurry up already! It was time to open presents!
I remember my oldest cousin donning a Santa hat to hand out gifts. He was “Head Elf”.
I remember the laughter, the warmth of a full house, and having to open the door to let in some fresh, cold, Iowa winter air. We were a lot of people squeezed into a tiny house….
Most of all, I remember the love.
Moe was staring right at where the wasp was. And let me tell you - he was a healthy little guy.
He was buzzing around and trying to fly. The poor thing.
I would like to tell you that I was brave, dismantled the light fixture, caught the wasp and threw him outside to safety.
Unfortunately the wasp's safety could not be my my top priority. I had three little kids very interested in what I was doing. I explained that while we usually catch bugs and throw them outside, we could not do that in this case. Wasps sting.
