Looking for the Thankful and Finding It

Well, we made it. Not without two trips to the doctor’s office, but without any major catastrophic or debilitating disease or maiming. As of today we again join the ranks of the health insured. Just another thing on the long list of things to be thankful for.

Speaking of thankfulness, this Thanksgiving Day was not as remarkable as Easter when my husband decided to eat cat food. There were, however, a few memorable moments, as is practically unavoidable when my family is together in the same space.

Firstly, my poor mother, while frenetically running around the kitchen trying to make sure that everything stayed hot, accidentally dumped the turkey drippings that were intended for gravy down the drain whilst she skimmed the fat from the pan. This was in large part due to the fact that she was wanted on the phone. Multi-tasking is not one of her strong points.

Secondly, was the moment when my cold-ridden son sneezed all over the side of his Granddad’s face during prayer. It was a pretty wet and slimy sneeze as most of his sneezes are when the boogies of doom are attacking his body. All told, it didn’t seem to bother Granddad too much; his appetite was just as hearty as everybody else’s once he cleansed his face of it.

Unfortunately for me, I had an appointment at the dentist a few days before the holiday. Appointments at the dentist are always unfortunate. Who wants to spend large sums of money so that a dentist or dental hygienist can stretch one’s mouth into shapes it is not supposed to make and use sharp pointy metal sticks to scrape the enamel right off of one’s tooth. And then be forced to listen to a lecture on brushing gently. Right. But the professional is allowed to abrade the payee’s teeth with a piece of metal that could have been a rusty nail in another life.

When I visit the dentist, especially in the winter months, all the stretching, pulling, and flossing tend to make the corners of my mouth chap and ultimately split open. By the time the day for eating large mounds of food rolled around my lip was in pretty bad shape. Especially in the right corner region.

Every time I opened my mouth to put something yummy into it, the lip emitted a soundless plea (which I ignored) and tugged, pulled, and cracked open again. It was a tad uncomfortable. But all of this reminded me of something else that I am thankful for: chapstick. If one persists on looking for the bright side it can almost always be found.

Heirloom Slush Mugs

How delightful it can be to be reminded of one’s childhood. Being the oldest grandchild on my mom’s side of the family, and the first to bear children, has already yielded its advantages. My Grammy (my Mom’s mom) has passed the magical Slush Mugs onto me. A person has only to pour a delicious beverage of their choice into the cup insert and put it into the freezer, and in a couple of hours- slushy! As a child I gleaned that root beer was the best choice for making slushies. My son hasn’t shown too much interest in this treat yet; in the meantime my husband and I are enjoying our root beer slushies with a movie in the evening when the kids are in bed. It’s one of the favorite parts of my day!

I enjoy food. Some of my earliest memories are food memories, so maybe that’s why. We didn’t have cable at home for most of my childhood. When we went to Grammy and Pop-pop’s house Grammy would spread a sheet on the living room floor so we could watch television while we ate and she wouldn’t have to worry about us staining her carpet. It was like a picnic!

Now when Grammy comes to visit my kids she always brings a box of animal crackers with her: the red box with the handle made of string. My mom, Nana, always prepares a goody bag full of snacks for my son to eat on the ride home from her house, and she never comes to our house without some sort of treat for her grandbabies: sometimes it’s a bag of Goldfish, or a granola bar, or graham crackers in the shape of insects. Nothing says, “I love you” like a graham cracker inchworm.

It’s all those special things that only your family does that make it your family. I’m anxious to nurture special memories for my kids that they can take with them into their adult lives; memories that make them smile and know that they are loved. Memories that make root beer flavored slushies.

Do You Want Batteries With That?

My husband and I are in the process of choosing gifts to buy for our two little ones this Christmas. I have had a blast looking at toys that I remember from my childhood! It is hard for me to get interested in any of these newer toys because I just want to re-buy everything I used to own as a kid.

My son loves cars. And trucks. And buses. Oh, and did I mention cars? Anything else gets a smaller amount of playtime. I’m afraid to buy him the things I have such fond memories of because I’m liable to get mad if he doesn’t love them as much as I did! My baby loves to touch and look at anything within her reach, so maybe I’ll just get something for her that she’ll be able to play with in a couple of months, or years. At least she’s likely to be interested in it!

Toys were so much simpler when I was little. Not so many flashing lights; not so many dead batteries to replace. Toys like: the Chatter Phone, the GloWorm, and the Fun 2 Imagine Cash Register. (Fun to imagine- in other words, it doesn’t have twenty-five buttons to push that all produce ear-splitting sounds and music). I used to love the Sit ‘N Spin. The thought of sitting and spinning now makes me sick to my stomach, but when I was a kid it was the best! My three sisters and I all loved our bed tents too. Yessiree. Pound Puppy bed tents. So cool.

Perhaps it is because I had a happy childhood that I feel like my kids cannot possibly have a memorable childhood without these particular items. I am sure that as they grow up they will remember certain toys of their own with a smile and want to pass those on to their children. At least my mom kept our blue Going to Grandma’s suitcases. I think she may have had an ulterior motive with that one.