I'm at the beach in Port Aransas, soaking up rays with my mom and kids. I never tire of watching the waves roll in and the pelicans dive for fish. Chloe never tires of digging the deepest hole she can possibly dig and Brett never tires of collecting marine life from every scrap of seaweed rolling in.
My children and I are predictable. I like it that way. When we go to the beach we like to do what we like to do. Sometimes we go with friends and they have their own idea of a beach trip. Everyone has their own set of rules and guidelines that equal fun which reminds me of the holidays.
We are quickly approaching the holiday season and each of us hopes for a predictable holiday season. I have a fairly young family, twelve years of marriage, which means our traditions are still taking shape. In the early years we spent the holidays with my aunt and her family. We were a bunch of young couples crashing on couches and staying up late watching football and telling old college stories. When we started having babies we became more civilized deciding to come up with new traditions to avoid travel.
The question of his family holiday or her family holiday is something nobody tells you about prior to your nuptials. Add children to the mix and you have his family holiday on the fold-out couch with a scratchy wool blanket and the baby sleeping inches from your face in the pack and play. It could be worse....you could be at her family holiday in the bed Grandma died in a month earlier with the baby between the two of you because taking the pack and play on a flight requires checking ANOTHER bag. You can't afford to check anymore luggage because she brought outfits that fit and others that ”fit”, the breast pump, five outfits an hour for the baby, hair accessories for all of the baby outfits and ooops, I think we forgot your suitcase at home, honey. I think you get the idea.
After enough back and forth and his parent's house and her parent's house you settle on YOUR house. Last year we decided to go have brunch at a hotel for Christmas. After my near nervous breakdown at Thanksgiving, due to my drive for perfection, my husband decided to have a non-mommy cook Christmas. I love, love, love to entertain. Having people in my house means I worry about the sheets and the firmness of the pillows, the menu for each day we have visitors, the television availability, the cleanliness of the house, the state of the yard, the children's behavior, EVERYTHING! I start cooking on Monday and I have excellent help in the form of my sister in law.
Traditions and predictability make life enjoyable, I think. Our children expect to take a picture with each scary stuffed being at every holiday and we expect to cook, clean, and decorate in preparation for the holidays. Maybe this year I will jet off to an island somewhere and have fruity umbrella drinks brought to my beach side massage following the Thanksgiving feast provided by Chef Jacque Francois. Yeah,probably not. I like my traditions and I enjoy having predictability. Won't you join me at the Thanksgiving table this year?
My children and I are predictable. I like it that way. When we go to the beach we like to do what we like to do. Sometimes we go with friends and they have their own idea of a beach trip. Everyone has their own set of rules and guidelines that equal fun which reminds me of the holidays.
We are quickly approaching the holiday season and each of us hopes for a predictable holiday season. I have a fairly young family, twelve years of marriage, which means our traditions are still taking shape. In the early years we spent the holidays with my aunt and her family. We were a bunch of young couples crashing on couches and staying up late watching football and telling old college stories. When we started having babies we became more civilized deciding to come up with new traditions to avoid travel.
The question of his family holiday or her family holiday is something nobody tells you about prior to your nuptials. Add children to the mix and you have his family holiday on the fold-out couch with a scratchy wool blanket and the baby sleeping inches from your face in the pack and play. It could be worse....you could be at her family holiday in the bed Grandma died in a month earlier with the baby between the two of you because taking the pack and play on a flight requires checking ANOTHER bag. You can't afford to check anymore luggage because she brought outfits that fit and others that ”fit”, the breast pump, five outfits an hour for the baby, hair accessories for all of the baby outfits and ooops, I think we forgot your suitcase at home, honey. I think you get the idea.
After enough back and forth and his parent's house and her parent's house you settle on YOUR house. Last year we decided to go have brunch at a hotel for Christmas. After my near nervous breakdown at Thanksgiving, due to my drive for perfection, my husband decided to have a non-mommy cook Christmas. I love, love, love to entertain. Having people in my house means I worry about the sheets and the firmness of the pillows, the menu for each day we have visitors, the television availability, the cleanliness of the house, the state of the yard, the children's behavior, EVERYTHING! I start cooking on Monday and I have excellent help in the form of my sister in law.
Traditions and predictability make life enjoyable, I think. Our children expect to take a picture with each scary stuffed being at every holiday and we expect to cook, clean, and decorate in preparation for the holidays. Maybe this year I will jet off to an island somewhere and have fruity umbrella drinks brought to my beach side massage following the Thanksgiving feast provided by Chef Jacque Francois. Yeah,probably not. I like my traditions and I enjoy having predictability. Won't you join me at the Thanksgiving table this year?
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