Why, I’m so glad you asked.
It looks something like this. . .
We went home this weekend. Home? Okay, it’s not really my home. I haven’t lived there for a really long time, but I still claim it as my own. Maybe there is some deep psychological issue within me that leads me to continue to call it home. . . maybe? Or, perhaps, it is a place where I feel so comfortable and peaceful and happy that the only word that seems fitting is, well, home.
I choose to believe the latter.
We went home over the weekend to (belatedly) celebrate my Dad’s birthday. It was a beautiful weekend. There was a light dusting of snow that made it perfect for staying cozy inside.
One of my favorite things about going home is watching my kids. It seems when they are away from the familiarity of their own toys and space their imaginations come alive. Paper airplanes entertain for hours, wooden blocks create art, and a long hall way becomes a gym.
Gone are the typical complaints of young kids and never do we hear the words I’m bored. Even Meadow remained calm and content after finding her favorite spot in the house.
I don’t know what it is about going home, but it just feels so. . . homey. It almost seems that as soon as I walk into the house all stress and strain disappears and my entire body relaxes. When my Dad issues his why don’t you go take a nap, I’ll watch the kids, I can barely toss him Meadow quick enough before I run to the bedroom and rest more soundly than I have in months. Personally, I think there is something in the air at my Dad’s house. . . even Chanelle succumbs to it.
Or, maybe it’s the fact that I know that the kids are in the great big loving hands of the man that raised me and so all seems right with the world.
That’s probably more like it.
I don’t think I will ever get tired of watching my Dad being a Grandpa, or Poppy, as we call him. I guess it’s just that I know how fortunate they are to have him as an encourager in their lives. When it comes down to it, our kids are incredibly blessed in the Grandparent department. . . on both sides.
And it’s not going to be long before Meadow understands it, too. . .
Already, there is a huge amount of love being poured out. . .
Speaking of love. . . we all love my Dad a lot. It was back in December when my sister and I began talking about what we would do for my Dad’s birthday. We sorted through the ideas in our head and were excited when we came up with the idea of taking him to a special dinner at the Melting Pot. Seems like a great idea, right? Well, yes, if you have no budget to consider.
So, what is even better than the Melting Pot? I’ll tell you. . . the Melting Pot in your living room.
That’s what we did. We recreated the Melting Pot meal in his living room.
to the cheese and main event. . .
followed up by the best part. . .
Seriously, is there anything better than a plump, juicy, red strawberry, dipped in rich, warm chocolate?
I think not.
Chanelle even gussied up for the occasion with a new haircut done by my most fabulous sister-in-law.
|Thank you, April!|
Some people think birthday’s should just come and go without any special recognition. It’s just a day is the mantra of many adults, right? Personally, I disagree. I think birthday’s are an opportunity to pause and say hey, I’m glad you were born and my life is better because of you. Sometimes it can be said with words. . . other times. . . calories.
I am so glad we got to celebrate my Dad this weekend. He is so worth celebrating. I know it. My sister knows it. Chad knows it. Even the kids know it. Chanelle put it perfectly. . .
I really like Poppy. He’s a real good man. I wish we could stay at his house for 1000 days.
I couldn’t agree more, Chanelle. I couldn’t agree more.
. . . a good man he is.