Home for the Holidays

I'm so thrilled that most of my children are going to be home with us this Christmas!  Our oldest son and his family (which includes, of course, those adorable twin granddaughters of ours!) will be heading out to WI to spend the holidays with my daughter-in-law's folks, but our other four sons will be here with us, and three of them are bringing their girlfriends with them, too.

There's nothing like having family around!  I am extremely grateful that our house is going to be full again with the sounds I love and miss: the sounds of our boys--with their deep, loud voices--laughing together and talking about football and teasing each other and arguing the merits of their movie choices as they struggle to come to some consensus about which DVD will make the perfect "family movie night" choice.  (The choosing of the movie to be viewed usually takes longer than actually watching said movie.)

I love my house so much.  We moved here when our oldest son was only 7, and our baby has never known any other home.  Over the years our sons were growing up to be the fine men they are today, this place was a warm and cozy (and noisy and funny) nest.  It holds so many precious memories for me; but it's gotten rather quiet and empty these days, except when our youngest boy is home for his college breaks.  Although every mother wants her children to grow up and move out and be capable of taking care of themselves, it is somewhat difficult making the adjustment to "empty-nester."  Especially when her whole purpose has been the care and feeding of her children.  I mean, don't get me wrong--in some ways, being here alone together is like being on one long date with my hubby (we've seen more movies in the theater the past two years than the total number of movies we saw during the twenty years prior!), and we're doing just fine on our own; but we do miss having our boys around.  And I'm so looking forward to having them home in a few weeks!

Boys (and girls!), we'll leave the lights on for ya!

Years ago son #5, our baby, wrote the most beautiful essay about our home as part of a 9th grade Honors English fiction project.  I originally posted it back in September of 2011, but I thought I'd share the link to it again today.  It's called "My Son, the Writer," and I like to read it whenever I'm feeling melancholy about that sweet part of my life being over forever--the part where I get to see the beloved faces of my children every day and do for them.  It makes me realize that even though they don't live here anymore (and even if they're living too far away to come home often), wherever they go, this happy home we made for them will always be a part of them.