Tag Archives: Family

The Luckiest Family’s Christmas

A few days ago I was wondering what the perceptions my nearly grown-up kids had of our family Christmas traditions. We have a set of traditions, but I’m not sure they even realize that we do. So I took stock of our Holiday Celebration, and set out to find out what their thoughts and memories were of it. I had to be a little stealthy, because calling a family meeting to discuss such would have been a disaster.

So we went out to eat last night, and (as I had a captive audience waiting for food…) I dove in. I asked each of them to tell me one favorite Christmas memory, and to pick one of our family traditions that they like. The oldest son thought for a moment, then – with a childish grin – told about a Christmas morning when he was about 5 when Santa brought him a Nintendo 64! He said it was the best present he’d ever gotten, and was the Christmas-morning memory he’d always remember. The middle son recalled a Christmas when he got great presents, and the caboose went on about all of the great Christmas mornings he could remember. (Go figure, he couldn’t pick one.) Their replies had a common theme – how Santa was so awesome, and brought them things that mom and dad would NEVER have gotten. All agreed Santa was the BEST!

I also asked them to tell me which of our family Christmas traditions they liked best. Middle-boy surprised me by saying he likes decorating our Christmas tree. Our tree is a collection of every decoration and ornament the kids ever made in school, as well as ornaments collected on our family’s travels. So as we pull things out of the box, there’s a story or memory behind every piece. As certain ornaments come out of the box, sometimes one of the kids will shout out that they “have to hang that one!” Each construction paper angel, handprint ornament, and macaroni creation is marked with the kid’s name and year it was made. There are ornaments from my own childhood, including one of the plastic ones that my mom bought when I was a toddler and kept pulling down the tree, a special Snoopy ornament given to me by my BFF in high school, and things from recent years, like the beer-drinking-Santa I carried back from Germany on my lap, and the shiny, hand-decorated orb given to me by a friend the Christmas before she went to heaven. From a decorator’s perspective, it looks a bit like a garage-sale creation, but through a Lucky Mom’s eyes, it’s perfect.

The Memory Tree

My oldest son said he liked the way we open our presents. Santa brings the gifts to our house wrapped. (I asked him to do that many years ago after a particular free-for-all on Christmas morning that left several things unnoticed.) We take our time, unwrapping one at a time, appreciating each one as it’s received. The process takes about 45 minutes, and in that time our boys are children again, anticipating the next present like it’s going to be another Nintendo 64! (The year my husband was in Iraq, we got him on Skype, and set the laptop up next to the sofa, so he could be there to share the morning with us.) It makes for happy memories, and great photo ops. It also keeps things from getting inadvertently thrown out with the garbage.

My youngest son said he likes our “party.” We have Christmas dinner at our house, with family and close friends always in attendance. The house looks very fancy, and I set the table with our finest china and linens. There is lots of food, lots of treats, and lots of love. Over the years our crowd has changed (especially after Katrina when many of our relatives moved to Houston), but the essence of the day has stayed the same. Celebrating Christmas with the people we love the most.

My husband said he likes frying the turkeys. (That’s the part of the tradition he brought in!) As soon as presents are open, he heads outside to start the oil, and stands watch over that pot to keep it at the perfect temperature. He’s done it in rain, and in snow (2004!). The birds soak in a spicy brine for a couple of days, and come out of the pot with the perfect combination of spicy and juicy! He hears oooohs and aaaahs all afternoon as we pick those suckers to the bone!!

I should've taken the photo before the ice went in, before the spices turned the water dark!

My favorite tradition is going to Mass on Christmas Eve. That’s the evening we get dressed up (and get to Church early so we can get seats). We sit together, greet friends and neighbors, and admire the beautiful decorations while waiting for Mass to begin. The Christmas Eve readings have become so familiar over the years that the kids will usually comment before we get there about hearing the names of Jesus’ ancestors read again. I hope it’s a tradition they keep when they’re grown up.

My husband brought these pieces back from Germany about 20 years ago. He shipped his clothes home so he could fill his suitcases with presents for me!

Despite the things mentioned above, we work hard to keep the Holiness of the season as the focus of our events. Our Advent Wreath sits on the coffee table, and we do devotions as often as we can. Our Nativity gets a prominent place, right inside the door. We adopt families, make donations to St. Jude and the USO (while giving thanks to God for our healthy children and for the soldiers who spend holidays away from home). Most of all we give thanks to God, for loving us enough to become Man and walk among us.

I’d love to hear about some of your family’s Christmas memories and traditions. Please share a few!

The completion of the Treehouse. I mean the Free-Standing Play Structure that is located in close proximity to a tree.

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Since my last report on the tree house, every spare minute for the next two weekends were spent either pacing the halls of Home Depot or in the back yard. As with most projects that involve manual labor, once the novelty of it wore off, the kids’ enthusiasm waned. But dad stayed driven.

The second story took shape quickly, but the details took longer than expected. (They always do.) Framing and flooring the upper deck meant a lot of measuring and cutting, so the process was slow. As it started taking shape, we realized how visible it was going to be from across the vacant property behind our house. And a terrifying realization about building permits came shortly thereafter. Dad called the permit office to discuss the intricacies of permit requirements in our community, to be told that treehouses require a building permit. (Arrrggghhh.) A discussion about different types of wooden structures revealed that one needs a permit to build a deck (a wooden floor-like structure attached to one’s house) or a treehouse (an elevated structure attached to a tree). But one does not need a permit to build a free-standing play set, provided it is more than 5 feet from the house and property line.

So let me correct any previous or future references to a tree house. We built a free-standing play structure. Definitely not a tree house.

One of dad’s visions for the play structure involved a trap door for access to the upper deck. Worried that the weight of the door would cause a head injury before the first weekend was over, he had a flash of brilliance and designed a counter weight to balance the door and keep it from slamming on fingers or heads. I think the trap door is his favorite feature!

As it neared completion dad decided it would feel more integrated into the tree (the one it IS NOT ATTACHED TO) and look really cool if it were covered in cammo netting. (I must admit, it does, indeed, look really cool!) So the final step was to attach some free-form branches to the sides and cover the upper deck in cammo net, making it look really awesome, and practically invisible to the eyes of code enforcement officers.

Since it’s christening, my back yard has once again become the social hub of the neighborhood. It’s a delight to my ears and a joy to my heart to hear kids laughing and playing, just like we did back in the olden days before we had electronic devices to distract us from fresh air and sunshine. So thinking back to my initial reaction when the little guy asked his dad if he could have a tree house, I’m glad dad had other ideas. Because I’m sure this tree house – I mean free-standing play structure – will remain one of the things my kids remember most about this house, and about being boys.

The Great Tree House Project

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Phase 1:

It seemed like an easy enough question for a parent to handle. The kind that gets asked all the time, knowing full well that the answer will be ‘no,’ but gets asked anyway. “Can we build a tree house?”

I assumed that without a hesitation my husband would step in and deny the 10-year old’s request, divert his attention to all the cool things we already have, then pick a fight about eating vegetables to ensure the subject was changed for good. But my ears heard something else.

“Maybe.” And he stared out of the window into the back yard, eyeing up the oak tree. That was the beginning of what I have come to call the Great Tree House Project. The next day the two of them surveyed the back yard, pacing and looking, and making notes in a tablet. They come inside to give me the synopsis of the new plan: to move an existing structure in our back yard next to the tree, and add on to it to make it a proper tree house.

The existing structure I’m referring to is what we call the “fort” in our back yard. A decade ago, it was the main part of a big play set that we built when we moved to this house. It had a center structure, with monkey bars, swings, and (I think) at one time a slide. Hurricane Katrina did a number on the wings coming off of the fort, leaving only the small center structure. It gets climbed on occasionally, but for the most part just sits there, reminding me of a time when my kids were younger and our back yard got a lot more action.

Over the next few days, my husband started sketching. He’d sketch for a while, then walk around the tree and the fort, then sketch some more. Now, my guy’s a wonderful guy, and an amazing father, but in the 28 years I’ve known him, I’ve never really fancied him an architect. Or a contractor. But that was before. Something in him had either snapped – or awakened.

We collaborated a bit to get an idea of how to proceed, and broke the project up into two phases: Phase 1 would be to move the fort across the yard to the tree, and Phase 2 would entail the addition of the second floor deck that would wrap around the tree trunk, qualifying the structure as a tree house. After MUCH discussion about whether the second floor should be enclosed and covered, we decided to call that Phase 3, and reserve our decision for that part until later.

Knowing how little spare time we have these days, we were hoping to get Phase 1 (relocation) done in one weekend, then give ourselves some time (a month or so) to work on the rest. We made our first haul to Home Depot, and a couple of Saturdays ago, and The Great Tree House Project began.

I was really impressed with our technique for moving the fort across the yard. Using simple levers and a set of PVC pipes, we lifted it off of the ground and put the “rollers” underneath. Then using the levers we inched it toward the tree, moving the pipes from back to front as it moved forward. It’s simplicity was beautiful. (The mom in me seized the opportunity to remind my kids of the simple machines they’d learned about in school, and to point out that there was a time when all buildings were made this way.) In less than an hour we’d moved the behemoth across the yard and turned it to nestle in the tree trunk. We were quite pleased with ourselves!

Dad immediately got to work on the frame for the upper deck, with the little guy’s help. Usually, when we’ve got a project to get done, and the kids want to help, we indulge them for a few minutes, then shoo them off so we can get the work moving. But since it was “his idea” he engaged the little guy fully. I hovered nearby assisting when needed, but mostly eavesdropping on the two of them in their discussions about what the tree house would become. I can definitely see this becoming the social hub of my guys’ world – all of them. They’ve got some grand plans.

Now, I learned some things about my husband that afternoon. Evidently he always wanted a tree house, but never got one. (We had one when I was a kid. My most vivid memory of it is of my brother dropping a hammer on a neighbor kid’s head, and the resulting trip to the emergency room and stitches. After that, the tree house came down.) But as I saw him in action I realized he still had some childhood left to live out, and he was ready to do it.

So every spare minute of daylight has been spent working on this thing. The first weekend we got it moved, and the framing for the upper deck in place. A couple more trips to Home Depot for supplies, and it’s starting to take shape.

The best laid plans…

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Before you cross the street,
Take my hand,
Life is just what happens to you,
While you’re busy making other plans.

— John Lennon, “Beautiful Boy”

Last week was a blur. The boys had exams, we had elder care issues, and just a generally busy week. When it came to its end, I pondered how the coming week would be a “break.” The start of a new grading period at school usually means lighter homework for a few days, the laundry was caught up, the house relatively clean, the weather nice and the universe seemed in harmony. While I knew it wouldn’t last long, I was looking forward to a comfortable week, and making plans to get ahead on a few things. God must have laughed.

I’m not really sure why I thought it was going to be an easy week. Lacrosse practice begins today for the middle son, which complicates things in many ways. First, the gear required for this sport is bulky, heavy, and smelly. It can’t be lugged around all day at school, and it smells too bad to leave it in the car. (For those of you with sons who haven’t yet gone through puberty, get ready for the smell. It arrives one day like an unexpected houseguest with rotten luggage, and doesn’t leave. But I digress.) Practice is not at school, so it requires a drive across town to pick up the player from school and drive him to City Park, where they practice. Then another pick-up two hours later when practice is over. We try really hard to work out carpools and reciprocal arrangements with other parents, but I live the farthest away, so there aren’t a lot of options for me. And since no two families have similar lives any more, it’s really hard to get into a groove with this. My husband and I juggle the tasks of picking up and hauling gear, but we never really manage to get a system in place until the season is practically over. We always figure it out, though, and our kids are the better for it.

My little guy is in dress rehearsal this week for the school play. It’s his first big speaking role, and he’s working really hard on his lines, his cues, and his performance. This week he has rehearsal every day after school until 6:00 P.M., which makes for really long days for him. We’re still working on the research project (due next week…) and the regular load of 5^th grade homework for a child with dyslexia is a major undertaking without all the add-ons. (Proud Mom alert: He did really well on his first-ever exams last week!!) But I felt confident we could handle it.

My college-boy is coming home this weekend. He has Fall Break, and is coming in to see his brother’s play. I’m resisting the urge to have a list of chores ready for him when he gets here, because I know that will cause a further delay in his next visit home. He will have some big brother duties, as we are planning an adult night out on Saturday. He’ll be in charge of transportation for the performance that night, as well as the cast party afterwards, but he knows that in advance, so it can’t be used against me.

Knowing what kind of schedule we’d have got me thinking ahead. I planned a few meals, got out my old friend Crock Pot, and was ready. Then, Monday morning, I heard the dreaded words, “I don’t feel good.” The little guy is prone to sore throats, so I don’t overreact when he says he feels bad. I gave him some Tylenol and got him to school on time. But by last night he was full-blown sick, with the sore throat, fever and body aches. The thought of having the flu in the house this early in the season made me want to cry, so I was relieved when his fever came down with more Tylenol. He fell asleep in his favorite chair, and Dad carried him upstairs to his bed, where we hoped aloud he’s stay for the night. God laughed again. He lasted a few hours, and the restlessness that precedes the throwing up started about midnight. We heard the call, but got to his room about 10 seconds too late. (Readers without kids or with weak constitutions are warned: I’m going to talk about puking.)

There’s an interesting dynamic between me and my husband. We can be stressed out, disagreeing, or in other states of discord, but when one of our kids needs us, we are a terrific team. We instantly went to work in tandem, without even realizing it. I started comforting the child, holding his head up, dad grabbed a garbage can and some towels. Once the episode was over, I stripped the bed, changed pajamas and got clean sheets ready. Dad got the fun job of cleaning the carpet, which he did without complaint. In about a half hour, we were ready to try to go back to sleep. After a few hours, round two ensued — but being better prepared, there was less mess to clean up, and we managed to have our heads back on the pillows after about 15 minutes.

When the 5:30 alarm clock sounded to begin our day, we played our game, “Who’s more pathetic than whom…” to see who’d get cut the slack. I won. So I got to sleep for a little longer, while my soul mate started the process of beginning another day. Instead of attending the leadership workshop that has been on the calendar for months, I’m spending the day serving popsicles to my little guy. Of course he’s feeling better now, so he’s ready to watch TV and play Wii, while I’m trying to be the responsible adult, and hold my eyes open a little longer.

Having one grown-up son, and one almost grown-up, I don’t get to feel “needed” very often any more. In fact, about the only time they want me in touching proximity is when they’re sick. So I think I’ll sit on the couch and share a popsicle with him, and doze off while he watches his favorite episode of Sponge Bob for the millionth time. I’ll make a few phone calls, rearrange my duties for today, and try to figure out how we’re going to tackle tomorrow. I’ll do it quietly, though, because I don’t want to make God laugh.

The Years are Short

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My fifth-grader came home this week with instructions for his first research project. A research project. My baby. The youngest of my three kids. The one who’s never supposed to grow up. I remember like it was yesterday sitting at the kiddie table in my den with a bucket of crayons, and the lesson of the day was “staying in the lines.” It really can’t be that long ago… Now we have to do a research project.

He chose Marco Polo as his subject. In the coming days we’ll be learning about Marco’s life and adventures, and I’ll be trying to get a 10-yr old boy in modern America to relate to the concept of an “undiscovered” world. I’m not looking forward to that. But what I am looking forward to is sitting at the table with him, having his undivided attention, and holding on to him for a moment.

As any mom will tell you (especially one with at least as many kids as I have) is that days are long. We rise early, ready ourselves, wake the family, make sure everyone’s fed, wearing the right uniforms, delivered to the right schools at the right time, then start our day. As soon as we get a little momentum, it’s almost time for the school bell to ring — and then the real chaos begins. Carpool, after-school activities, homework, dinner, showers and bedtime. Just getting it all done takes drill-sergeant-like qualities, which don’t necessarily bring out the best in a mom. I know from my frequent chats with other moms that I’m not the only one who collapses as soon as the last kid hits his pillow. We’re wiped out long before then.

Each day seems like a long journey. But then they run together, and the time compresses, and before you know it one is in college, one is in high school, and one has to do a research project.

The days are long. But the years are short.