When you look at your mother, you are looking at the purest love you will ever know.
Recently, I read a book that perfectly addressed my current status as an “orphan.”
Tag Archives: growing up
Nostalgia in a Pickle Jar
I spent Christmas along the Mississippi Gulf Coast, visiting my sis and her family and soaking up some warmer weather (though they, too, had some nights below freezing!)
When you’re away from home base for several days, you find yourself attending a different church, patronizing different restaurants and stores, and running into different people than usual.
I want to recapture some of those experiences here.
One of the churches I attended has a custom — after the adults’ collection plate has been passed — of inviting the children to come forward and drop their donations into a huge glass pickle jar to be given to charity.
Because of the holidays, the kids were dressed to the nines. Fancy crinoline dresses, little Christmas vests, bows in hair, khaki trousers, patent Mary Janes.
They looked darling.
They also seemed a bit hesitant about dropping their coins and bills into the jar (fortunately, no one reached back in to retrieve their donation!)
Anyway, one little girl with dark curls, a satin-looking red dress, and matching red shoes was the last to give. When she finished, she balked at leaving the altar, holding her arms up until daddy rescued her and carried her back to the pew.
The whole church giggled.
Grandparents and those of us with older kids reminisced over days gone by; parents of younger kids were all-too-familiar with the scene.
It brought to mind something My Favorite Domer said recently about how Christmas “just isn’t as much fun” as it was when he was little.
No toys, not as many presents, nothing from Santa.
Well, duh!
Part of me wanted to argue that his “toys” now are much more expensive than when he was little and to snidely tell him, “Welcome to the adult world,” but I stopped myself.
What if he’s right?
Does growing up have to make us jaded? Can’t we find a way to approach the holidays with childlike wonder, to enjoy and fully live in the present without sacrificing memories of the past?
Happy Thanksgiving!
I traveled to South Bend yesterday to pick My Favorite Domer up for the Thanksgiving holidays (First-Years at Notre Dame aren’t allowed to have cars, so he’s “grounded” unless/until I fetch him!)
I’ve already done three loads of laundry (did I really send him off to college with that much stuff?), and he’s been “chill-axing” with his favorite video games, texting friends (both near and far), and listening to music while playing on his laptop. Not much has changed, right?
Wrong.
I’d already mentally prepared myself for a “new” son this time around. After all, it wasn’t all that long ago that I was a college freshman returning home for the big turkey-day feast — and oh, how I chafed that nobody recognized the “new, grownup me”!
So I steeled myself NOT to hover, NOT to ask nit-picky questions, NOT to demand he get a haircut (though he did, and on his own!), and NOT to expect him to keep my schedule.
Good thing, too. Nothing worse than a “helicopter parent.”
It’s immensely gratifying to see how well he’s acclimated to ND. So many young people find themselves straddling both worlds, home and college, when they go away, and that’s tough — on them and on their parents. Many others are completely miserable with their choices and can’t transfer fast enough to a school that’s a better fit.
MFD announced that if he could move his family, video games, and “stuff” to South Bend, he’d probably never come back to the town he grew up in.
Interesting.
I suspect many of his new friends feel the same. Notre Dame is already “home” to them; they’re happy, and happiness is what we parents want for our kids.
It’s said that “familiarity breeds contempt.” If so, maybe these kids should swap hometowns for one visit. They would see different communities through new eyes and gain an appreciation for the fires of home.
In the meantime, we’ll just enjoy the brief vacation he has — Happy Thanksgiving!
Musings by an ND Domer's Mom 