Giving Thanks

When I was a kid, we didn't go to my Grandparents for Thanksgiving. In fact, I don't remember celebrating Thanksgiving at all. That doesn't mean we didn't. It very likely means no one took any pictures. I remember best if someone took a picture. 

We went in December during Christmas break. All the aunts and uncles and cousins and cousins kids and special neighbors were there and we ate lots of food and the cousins played inside and outside and must have made plenty of noise, which me, of course, being one of the perpetrators would have no idea, then or now, how loud we were.

This Thanksgiving was at our house, which has been the usual for several years. This year was Lynette's "off year," so we were a slightly smaller crowd than usual. We have a turkey and a ham and all sit down for our meal and then the kids rise up to play. They play inside and outside and the noise depends on the ratio of inside to outside play. I stayed inside and did the dishes with the help of Lorene and Mom. 

The cousins all play together and ignore the adults unless they are forced into a game hour, which we didn't do this year. 

That's the point of this story. I went to my grandparents in the sandhills twice a year, summer and winter. I loved to go there. I can't explain why I loved that place so much. I don't remember any real connection to my grandparents when I was a kid. They were background to the whole experience. It wasn't until I was not a kid anymore that they became "real people" to me. I remember still the house, the banging of the gate into the yard and they lesser one of the house door. I remember the enclosed porch where leftovers were stored after the big Christmas Day dinner, that led to a funny little room that had stairs to the basement where Grandpa kept some of his tools and the bedrooms that belonged to Mom and Aunt Barb, once upon a time. Upstairs was the big table where we ate when the company left and the smaller kitchen where the aunties all helped with the dishes. Outside, I remember the fenced in yard, to keep the dogs and chickens out. the near garden and the far garden, the Big Hill I climbed to rejoice at the top of the world with the wind in my hair. Grandpa had his workshop in the garage. The chicken house was farther on. 

Back to the present....

We ate, the cousins played and the grandparents were in the background. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Kids having a wonderful time at Gramma and Papa's. I'm not looking for constant interaction with the grandkids. It's not the right time. The time now, is to solidify their relationship with their cousins and remember that Gramma's house was a good place to be.

Pie Time

Screen time

Lego Time

Game Time

Puppy Time

Outside Time

Zane is getting big enough (hee hee) and old enough that we work together some. 

He made the glaze for the ham. We needed a recipe, thus the phone. 

The difference between then and now is that all the kids come and say goodbye with hugs when it is time to go. There were never any hugs back in my day and I don't remember any "thanks for having us," but I hope there were.