Over the course of the years of my children growing up they have acquired through those years many friends between them. And during that time my house has been the setting for many sleepovers, bonfires and air soft wars. To some people that just isn't their cup of tea to have a bunch of kids running around and eating you out of house and home. But to some parents like me - I wouldn't have it any other way.
I've went through the girls having slumber parties and laying in their beds giggling and gossiping all night long to the most current stage of having 10-15 boys traipsing through the woods around my house shooting each other with air soft rifles. Right now as I type there are about 10 of them fully armed, decked out in camo, taking aim on each other and firing hundreds of little plastic air soft BB's as fast as they can load them.To this day I haven't understood the theory behind them trusting each other not to have their eye shot out. But it's OK they love this kind of stuff and they have fun.
During the time that my kids have acquired all these friends my home has acquired them as well. The door in the kitchen from the sun room is a revolving door of kids running in and out grabbing drinks and Little Debbie's or whatever they can get their hands on. I'm thinking at this point it's fairly safe for me to assume that all the groceries I bought last night are nothing but a memory now. But it's OK - at least they are eating.
When my middle daughter has her girlfriends over it's usually a safe bet that I will be sleeping on the couch for the night, because for some reason my king size bed sleeps better than hers and they spread out like a warm breakfast for the night and snooze away until late in the morning. Meanwhile, I try to find a comfortable position while I lay there and dream of sleeping in my own bed. But it's OK because at least they are tucked in safely for the night.
After all the kids leave the house usually looks like something you would see on a Febreze commercial with dishes stacked up and things scattered all over the floor, hanging off the couch and slung over in a corner. Most mornings I wake up to a living room that looks like a Frat party took place the night before with about 10 or 15 empty Mountain Dew cans or water bottles twisted up where they have shot the caps off them at each other (and I continue to find those caps over the course of the next few days as a reminder of their visits). But it's OK because I know they have had fun.
Then when the kids are gone and the only ones left are my biological ones I get to catch up on what is going on in all their lives. (Or there are days that I don't even have to wait until they leave because at least one will always corner me to update me on a situation in their life that they have told me about before.) I get to hear about who is talking to who; who has broken up and who is fighting with who or who is who's new best friend. Some times I just laugh, some times I want to cry for some of the kids, and some times I just shake my head at the latest developments in the teenage world. But it's OK at least they are talking to me and sharing their stories.
With each set of friends that the kids have had; my oldest daughter's, my middle daughter's and my son's I have grown to love these kids and worry about them like I do my own. When they have gotten their driver's license their name is added to the list of those that I try to account for when there is an accident. When they suffer a broken heart I try to break out the "Mom handbook of advice to the lovelorn" and try to make them feel better. When they have an accomplishment I cheer them on and when they mess up I do with them the same as I do my own - I let them know I'm disappointed, but I still love them.
It's a crazy house around here on some days and some weekends I have a hard time keeping up with who all I have. There's not much peace and quiet and there's a lot going on usually the whole time - but it's OK because one day these walls won't echo the laughter, I won't get to keep up with what is going on with them, and although the peace and quiet will have been more than earned - I'll miss the days when they were rowdy, crazy and out of control. They are one adventure after another - but it's OK...let them be kids - because I sure will miss them when that day comes that they grow up....because that means I will have to as well.
Monday, December 30, 2013
Sunday, December 15, 2013
The Story Our Christmas Tree Tells
When I was a child one of the things that I always remember with a huge smile and a happy heart is going to the woods with my Dad and Mom to cut down our tree for Christmas. I loved looking at all the trees while we were trying to decide on just the right one. Somehow though it never looked the same once we got it put up - either it suffered a little deformation on the journey home dragging it through the woods or it would be much shorter or entirely too tall when we got it ready to put in the trusty old green metal tree stand with red legs on it. But by the time we got done decorating it; well it always looked perfect. Every year I say I'm going to take the kids up into the woods and carry on that tradition with them, but I always end up taking the easier way out. Next year I'm going to motivate myself more to do it because it just adds more of a special touch when you pick it out, cut it down and haul it home; only to be either pleased or scratching your head over the end results of it's delivery into the living room.
This year was the second year since I have lived in my house that we have gotten a real tree for Christmas. For years I used an artificial tree that took hours to shape and sort out matching branches and then when Christmas was over there was the glorious task of trying to figure out how to make it fit back in the box. The whole process of packing it back up took an act of congress and two Philadelphia lawyers to figure it out. I just finally got tired of stressing over branches breaking and such from all the years of bending and twisting the branches to shape them just right. So last year I made the executive decision to get a real tree. We have gone to a Christmas tree farm both years to get the trees. It's not the same by any means as trekking off into the woods to get one, but it was still fun. I took the girls with me this year to pick it out, and with careful deliberation of sizing up the tree and visualizing it in our living room, we finally agreed on one to take home. We had the tree wrapped and loaded on top of the good ole Mazda Tribute and then took off on our journey home looking like Clark Griswold and his lovely family when they were hauling that monstrosity of a tree home on their station wagon.
Once we got the tree unloaded and put in the house we sawed and sawed on it to trim it down a little. I may have overestimated my living room ceiling's potential of housing that big tree, but nonetheless we got it up and the ropes were cut. (Let me insert a little friendly advice here...when you bring a tree in your house that resembles the size of the one that stands in the oval office - you need to stand clear when the ropes are cut, or well.....you get the picture and I imagine it's not a pretty one if it's the actual picturing of me with pine needles in my mouth, hair, down my shirt....etc.)
The lights were put on (which are never enough in my eyes - I like to have our tree projecting enough light that a plane could make an emergency landing on my house with all the light emitting from it). Once the lights were on the tree it was time to drag out the big box of ornaments. This is one of my favorite things to do because I love handing the kids ornaments that are a reflection of memories for them from all the years past. Every year I tell them stories about some of the ornaments and how they came about being such an important part of the tradition of Christmas. I have a beautiful pink ornament that has been hung on the tree for 23 years that is one of the favorites given to my oldest daughter Jess for her first Christmas from Auntie Charlotte. Then there are some of the extra special ornaments that have became a little weathered and worn over the years that are made simply of construction paper and yarn. The kids always express themselves with the usual line - "Mom why do you keep these???" It's simple...they are a memory of their childhood and a symbolism of their younger years when they would come busting in the door from school or church proudly displaying the masterpiece that they worked so hard on. I can remember the story behind every handmade ornament that I carefully re-pack every year after it is taken off the tree. I hope by telling these stories to the kids over and over that there will be a seed planted in their minds so that they can pass the stories onto their own children.
When I was younger my Mom always had our handmade ornaments on the tree along with a gazillion pieces of tinsel that we would love to blow off our hands onto the tree. When we would take the tree down and Dad would haul it outside there would be a trail of that tinsel from the living room all the way to where Dad took the tree. As much as I remember the tinsel, those old ornaments that my Mom hung on the tree with pride are still the things that bring back the sweetest memories for me when I see my kids hang their ornaments up.
I'm not sure how the tradition of the tree ever got started. But I do know that when we put that big tree in our living room that it lights up the holidays with it's presence and the memories that hang on that tree every year make my heart smile every time I look at them. Whether it be a store brought ornament bought by a friend many years ago or a tattered and worn piece of faded construction paper - I simply love the story that our Christmas tree tells.
This year was the second year since I have lived in my house that we have gotten a real tree for Christmas. For years I used an artificial tree that took hours to shape and sort out matching branches and then when Christmas was over there was the glorious task of trying to figure out how to make it fit back in the box. The whole process of packing it back up took an act of congress and two Philadelphia lawyers to figure it out. I just finally got tired of stressing over branches breaking and such from all the years of bending and twisting the branches to shape them just right. So last year I made the executive decision to get a real tree. We have gone to a Christmas tree farm both years to get the trees. It's not the same by any means as trekking off into the woods to get one, but it was still fun. I took the girls with me this year to pick it out, and with careful deliberation of sizing up the tree and visualizing it in our living room, we finally agreed on one to take home. We had the tree wrapped and loaded on top of the good ole Mazda Tribute and then took off on our journey home looking like Clark Griswold and his lovely family when they were hauling that monstrosity of a tree home on their station wagon.
Once we got the tree unloaded and put in the house we sawed and sawed on it to trim it down a little. I may have overestimated my living room ceiling's potential of housing that big tree, but nonetheless we got it up and the ropes were cut. (Let me insert a little friendly advice here...when you bring a tree in your house that resembles the size of the one that stands in the oval office - you need to stand clear when the ropes are cut, or well.....you get the picture and I imagine it's not a pretty one if it's the actual picturing of me with pine needles in my mouth, hair, down my shirt....etc.)
The lights were put on (which are never enough in my eyes - I like to have our tree projecting enough light that a plane could make an emergency landing on my house with all the light emitting from it). Once the lights were on the tree it was time to drag out the big box of ornaments. This is one of my favorite things to do because I love handing the kids ornaments that are a reflection of memories for them from all the years past. Every year I tell them stories about some of the ornaments and how they came about being such an important part of the tradition of Christmas. I have a beautiful pink ornament that has been hung on the tree for 23 years that is one of the favorites given to my oldest daughter Jess for her first Christmas from Auntie Charlotte. Then there are some of the extra special ornaments that have became a little weathered and worn over the years that are made simply of construction paper and yarn. The kids always express themselves with the usual line - "Mom why do you keep these???" It's simple...they are a memory of their childhood and a symbolism of their younger years when they would come busting in the door from school or church proudly displaying the masterpiece that they worked so hard on. I can remember the story behind every handmade ornament that I carefully re-pack every year after it is taken off the tree. I hope by telling these stories to the kids over and over that there will be a seed planted in their minds so that they can pass the stories onto their own children.
When I was younger my Mom always had our handmade ornaments on the tree along with a gazillion pieces of tinsel that we would love to blow off our hands onto the tree. When we would take the tree down and Dad would haul it outside there would be a trail of that tinsel from the living room all the way to where Dad took the tree. As much as I remember the tinsel, those old ornaments that my Mom hung on the tree with pride are still the things that bring back the sweetest memories for me when I see my kids hang their ornaments up.
I'm not sure how the tradition of the tree ever got started. But I do know that when we put that big tree in our living room that it lights up the holidays with it's presence and the memories that hang on that tree every year make my heart smile every time I look at them. Whether it be a store brought ornament bought by a friend many years ago or a tattered and worn piece of faded construction paper - I simply love the story that our Christmas tree tells.
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