He will hate me one day for taking this picture. Warning little boy if Momma doesn’t approve of a girl you bring home rest assured this picture will be brought out in hopes that your too embarrassed to ever call her again.
Oh how I love the holiday season. It is the only time in the year I am willing to tolerate cold weather. There is just something magical about pumpkins, fires and christmas trees. I have wonderful memories of childhood christmas pasts. One’s filled with all my family, rooms full of people and laughter. Great times with cousins and siblings.
As I have moved past the childhood stage and into the adult stage of the holidays I see the stress. I see how easily the true meaning of the holidays can get lost in the shuffle. I have found myself trying to recreate the holidays of the past. I yearn to give my children similar memories. I so desperately want them to feel the love and magic that holidays can be. However, while cooking my first family thanksgiving this year it occurred to me that those are my memories, my childhood. The boys are making their own memories. These are the memories that they will hopefully look back on with love as the grow older and form families of their own.
We have worked hard to make our family our own. To set boundaries that works for us because this family that we made now is the most important. So as I go through this season and the years to come I am going to focus less on what I have always done and more on what is best for the boys. We may not have the family filled crazed celebrations but that does not mean that they won’t be just as memorable. Hosting Thanksgiving was truly wonderful moment. There was no loading up the car and driving into the wee hours of the morning. No shuffling through luggage, and running from house to house. Both of us commented on how much we loved having everyone over. It was a perfect thanksgiving and I hope in the years to come their are many more just like it.