I am sure that everyone has traditions which are unique only to the Christmas season, be it going to the parade, opening presents on Christmas morning, or just eating a delicious meal together. My family is just like all of yours, we have many Christmas rituals that have become traditions and it just doesn’t seem like Christmas unless we perform them, I don’t care how old my children are.
I know it may seem like we are rushing the season, but we always put our Christmas tree up on Thanksgiving Day. We look forward to setting up the tree and decorating with as many lights as we can fit on our seven-foot tree. Lights are a man thing, so my husband puts them on because I don’t have the patience to fool with them.
Then comes the fun part, putting on the ornaments. Anyone who knows me knows my family is crazy about Hallmark Christmas ornaments. I have been collecting them for over 25 years, long before I was ever married or had children. I love ALL the different types of ornaments. Everyone in my family has a different series or type of Hallmark ornament we have to get every year, and if a series is ended, then we move on to a new one. The longest running ornament series that Hallmark has is call “Here Comes Santa” and it shows Santa riding all different types of vehicles. The series started in 1979 and I am proud to say that I own all 22 of the current ornaments in the series. My middle daughter—Marie—has all 17 of the current toy house ornaments, and my youngest—Christine—has all ten of the current puppy love ornaments. My oldest—Amber—ended her series a few years ago with the 15th rocking horse. She hasn’t been able to decide on a new series, so we have been buying ones that pertain to her life, like the car ornament we got her the year she turned 16. Of course, my husband collects all the car, truck, and toy vehicle ornaments, plus anything else that strikes his fancy. He has been hooked on my collection since we met in 1986.
Christmas present are a big part of Christmas in today’s modern world. When my husband was young, his parents used to hide presents in the Christmas tree, and this is a tradition we have carried over into our lives. Christine loves to hid presents in the Christmas trees, going as far as to hiding a few presents in this year’s Girl Scout tree at the Old Fort Museum. The only problem with presents in the tree is, sometimes, presents get overlooked. We always leave our tree up until after the New Year, and there have been a few times we have found a cleverly hidden present in the tree as we take the ornaments off. What a surprise for the giver and the recipient!
Our Christmas Eve starts with a buffet meal at my parent’s house. We always try to eat at 4:00, because the kids are so anxious to open gifts. They hate it because we make them wait until after the dishes are done before they can tear into their packages. No one can open a gift until everyone has one. Then it is a free-for-all as paper goes flying in all directions. The house always looks like a tornado touched down. After the great clean up and some bonding time, my family heads to Christmas Eve services at church. Harrodsburg Baptist Church always has a candlelight Lord’s Supper on Christmas Eve. This is a wonderful way to observe the true meaning of the season, especially if you have children. For children, it is hard to see beyond the presents, but a quiet religious ceremony can speak to a child’s heart. After church, we will sometimes ride through the neighborhoods to look at all the Christmas lights.
Once home on Christmas Eve, it is time for the youngest to go to bed, but first we have to set up Santa’s treats. Christine is always in charge of the nativity scene and this is where she sets up the treats for Santa and his reindeer. Every year we have cookies and Mountain Dew for Santa, carrots for the reindeer—nine sticks because of Rudolph—and a piece of birthday cake for Baby Jesus. Christine has to light the birthday candle and we sing Happy Birthday to the Baby Jesus. Then Christine goes outside with the magic reindeer food and sprinkles it on the lawn. For those grown-ups who don’t know what magic reindeer food is, it is dry oatmeal mixed with a small amount of glitter that your children can sprinkle on the ground so the reindeer do not miss their house. Of course, after the children are asleep, then Santa can arrive, and just before he leaves our house, he kisses each child on the cheek, and his magic lips leave a kiss mark that is still visible when the children wake in the morning. My oldest girls have long outgrown this tradition, and I just hope it is a few more years before Christine realized that Santa’s magic lips match the shade of lipstick that Mommy wears.
We always open our presents on Christmas morning, one at a time. Someone different plays Santa every year and gives out presents. Paper and ribbon are thrown everywhere, packages and instructions are never where you need them to be, and there is always something that Santa forgot to bring batteries for. After Christmas morning breakfast, we all scatter like the wind. My husband and I along with Christine head to my mother-in-law’s house, and Amber and Marie, being the teenagers they are, head to other family and friends homes.
I know it seems like we concentrate more on the material aspects of Christmas, but with children it is sometimes hard not to. I think my teenage girls are connecting more with the religious side of Christmas as they get older; I guess we all so as we get older. The old saying “Christmas is for children”, will always ring true as long as we have children in the world.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 2000
Monday, December 18, 2000
Wednesday, December 8, 1999
The China Doll
Christmas at Granny Devine’s house was a magical time for me when I was a child. Our close knit family always gathered in her tiny home to celebrate the wonderful holiday season. This was the time that I looked forward to all year long.
Granny’s house was very tiny, only two bedroom, a kitchen and a living room. Sometimes we felt like sardines packed into crowded quarters, but no one seemed to mind. The adults situated themselves on the couch while the children gathered around on the floor. The house was so quaint and cozy that I always felt like I could stay there forever. Fluffy pillow adorned the couch, along with numerous hand crocheted Afghans. On the plain cherry table lay a cherished black Bible, its edges bent and worn from loving use. Beloved photos of numerous children and grandchildren peered down from the plaster walls.
Before artificial trees became widely used, Granny always had a real Christmas tree. I can still remember the fresh, green Norfolk pin tree standing in the corner, its branches smelling like the great outdoors. The needles always tickled my nose when I brushed close to them. Each branch was decorated with the festive wear of the holiday season; red, blue, green and yellow lights sparkling. Hand crafted ornaments loaded the tree…crocheted angels, beadwork orbs, and quilted squares. Glittering tinsel swayed with the gentle movement of everyone inside the house.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, dong-ding-dong-ding…the faithful wall clock announced the dinner hour. Everyone stepped across the creaky floor furnace to enter the teeny kitchen. The enticing aroma of the golden, glazed turkey reached our noses. The whirring of the mixer sounded as the dreamy mashed potatoes were fluffed with mounds of golden butter. Caramelized marshmallows topped the delectable candied yams, and the mouth-watering fruit cried out from the ambrosia salad. Oysters sizzled in their sauce of butter, milk and cracker crumbs as Granny took them out of her old gas oven. The oysters were my favorite part of the meal, and my own mother still fixes them just for me every year. The sweet fragrance of Granny’s homemade stuffing wafted through the entire house…yummy! There will never be another food that signals the beginning the holiday like Granny’s stuffing.
A handmade, Christmas cross-stitched tablecloth always covered the wooden table. Four chair and two stools were settled around the table for the adults to eat from, and the children were relegated to the living room coffee table. I can still remember the sharp corners of that table when I would accidentally run into them. After everyone was settle and a prayer of thanks given, the great passage of food platt34ers began. Clink, clatter, clink…each person heaped their plate to overflowing.
At the conclusion of the scrumptious meal the men r3etired to the living room and the great clean up began. The anticipation of opening the vast number of Christmas presents was overwhelming to us kids, but it was tradition to wait until the dishes were done before the first gift could be opened finally; Granny, Aunt Ginny Ann and my Mom finished the dishes and joined the rest of us in the living room.
My most memorable Christmas at my Granny’s began with my Aunt handing out presents to me and my brother and sister I was around eight or nine years old and I couldn’t wait to tear into my package, but as usual, we had to wait until everyone had a present before we could open anything. Ready, set, go…away we went, ripping the paper and ribbons. I loved all my presents, but this year held a delightful surprise. Granny had given me a china doll…my very first china doll. She was so beautiful with black hair on top of her creamy porcelain face. She had blue eyes, just like mine, and pink rosy cheeks. Her dress was pink with tiny white polka dots and she had a matching bonnet on her head. She even had a crinoline skirt and petticoat underneath her dress. I was ecstatic! It was such a grown up present and I was so happy that my Granny thought I was old enough to have my first china doll.
When the present were all finally opened and the wrapping and ribbons cleaned up, the kids watched television while the adults talked. This particular year, I took a long hot bubble bath in Granny’s miniature bathroom and changed into the new pajamas my Aunt had given me. I was all ready to go home to bed so I could wait for Old Saint Nick.
That was 1970 or 71, but I can still remember the excitement of that Christmas Eve. Rushing my parents home so I could jump into bed, listening to every creak of the house, just know that Santa would arrive at any minute. As for my china doll, Miss Betsy, she is still one of most treasured possessions. She holds a place of honor in my glass cabinet where I can glance at her every day. All three of my daughters have several china dolls apiece, but they don’t care for dolls as much as I do. My dolls are a significant part of my heritage and, although I have had many china dolls since Miss Betsy, none will ever remind me of Christmas, or my Granny Devine, like this one special doll.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 1999
Granny’s house was very tiny, only two bedroom, a kitchen and a living room. Sometimes we felt like sardines packed into crowded quarters, but no one seemed to mind. The adults situated themselves on the couch while the children gathered around on the floor. The house was so quaint and cozy that I always felt like I could stay there forever. Fluffy pillow adorned the couch, along with numerous hand crocheted Afghans. On the plain cherry table lay a cherished black Bible, its edges bent and worn from loving use. Beloved photos of numerous children and grandchildren peered down from the plaster walls.
Before artificial trees became widely used, Granny always had a real Christmas tree. I can still remember the fresh, green Norfolk pin tree standing in the corner, its branches smelling like the great outdoors. The needles always tickled my nose when I brushed close to them. Each branch was decorated with the festive wear of the holiday season; red, blue, green and yellow lights sparkling. Hand crafted ornaments loaded the tree…crocheted angels, beadwork orbs, and quilted squares. Glittering tinsel swayed with the gentle movement of everyone inside the house.
Ding-dong, ding-dong, dong-ding-dong-ding…the faithful wall clock announced the dinner hour. Everyone stepped across the creaky floor furnace to enter the teeny kitchen. The enticing aroma of the golden, glazed turkey reached our noses. The whirring of the mixer sounded as the dreamy mashed potatoes were fluffed with mounds of golden butter. Caramelized marshmallows topped the delectable candied yams, and the mouth-watering fruit cried out from the ambrosia salad. Oysters sizzled in their sauce of butter, milk and cracker crumbs as Granny took them out of her old gas oven. The oysters were my favorite part of the meal, and my own mother still fixes them just for me every year. The sweet fragrance of Granny’s homemade stuffing wafted through the entire house…yummy! There will never be another food that signals the beginning the holiday like Granny’s stuffing.
A handmade, Christmas cross-stitched tablecloth always covered the wooden table. Four chair and two stools were settled around the table for the adults to eat from, and the children were relegated to the living room coffee table. I can still remember the sharp corners of that table when I would accidentally run into them. After everyone was settle and a prayer of thanks given, the great passage of food platt34ers began. Clink, clatter, clink…each person heaped their plate to overflowing.
At the conclusion of the scrumptious meal the men r3etired to the living room and the great clean up began. The anticipation of opening the vast number of Christmas presents was overwhelming to us kids, but it was tradition to wait until the dishes were done before the first gift could be opened finally; Granny, Aunt Ginny Ann and my Mom finished the dishes and joined the rest of us in the living room.
My most memorable Christmas at my Granny’s began with my Aunt handing out presents to me and my brother and sister I was around eight or nine years old and I couldn’t wait to tear into my package, but as usual, we had to wait until everyone had a present before we could open anything. Ready, set, go…away we went, ripping the paper and ribbons. I loved all my presents, but this year held a delightful surprise. Granny had given me a china doll…my very first china doll. She was so beautiful with black hair on top of her creamy porcelain face. She had blue eyes, just like mine, and pink rosy cheeks. Her dress was pink with tiny white polka dots and she had a matching bonnet on her head. She even had a crinoline skirt and petticoat underneath her dress. I was ecstatic! It was such a grown up present and I was so happy that my Granny thought I was old enough to have my first china doll.
When the present were all finally opened and the wrapping and ribbons cleaned up, the kids watched television while the adults talked. This particular year, I took a long hot bubble bath in Granny’s miniature bathroom and changed into the new pajamas my Aunt had given me. I was all ready to go home to bed so I could wait for Old Saint Nick.
That was 1970 or 71, but I can still remember the excitement of that Christmas Eve. Rushing my parents home so I could jump into bed, listening to every creak of the house, just know that Santa would arrive at any minute. As for my china doll, Miss Betsy, she is still one of most treasured possessions. She holds a place of honor in my glass cabinet where I can glance at her every day. All three of my daughters have several china dolls apiece, but they don’t care for dolls as much as I do. My dolls are a significant part of my heritage and, although I have had many china dolls since Miss Betsy, none will ever remind me of Christmas, or my Granny Devine, like this one special doll.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 1999
Thursday, April 8, 1999
Dresses of Easter Sunday Past
The Easter season is upon us gain, albeit, a few weeks early than in past years. As we are busy helping our children learn about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we are also posed with the fashion question … what will we wear to East Sunday worship services?
For some reason, our society is geared toward living life like some type of fashion show and church is the runway. In a time when we should be worrying about our Sunday school lessons, and living up to the Ten Commandments, some people seem to be more concerned about whether our shoes match our skirts, or whether our accessories are the most flattering. And Easter Sunday is the grand opening of the new spring fashion season.
Now, I have never been much into fashion. As long as I have a clean pair of jeans and my tennis shoes, I’m pretty much happy. But Easter Sunday means that I must, at least, make some kind of effort to look presentable. When it comes to my children, though, never fear, they were always ready for the season’s grand display.
When my three girls were all toddlers, they always wore lace and ruffles on Easter. They would be dressed to the nines … hat, gloves, lace socks, and new Mary Jane’s. Their hair would always be rolled in sponge rollers the night before, and then brushed and adorned with ribbons the following morning. Earrings, necklace, bracelets, and white shawl would always complete the outfit. I was always so proud when they received compliments throughout the day. It would give me that warm fuzzy feeling inside.
As my girls became school age, they began having more of a say in their Easter outfits. My only requirement was that the outfit had to be a dress or skirt, no pants. Boy, I should have been pickier! We have ended up with all types of outfits.
One year, Marie wore a sundress with large colorful flowers, purple shoes and a white and purple hat, not exactly my idea of an Easter outfit, but she loved it. One year, Amber insisted on a blue jean dress with her hiking boots. I held out for a long time on this one, but I decided, that in ten years, it wasn’t going to matter what she wore, as long as she was happy. So that Easter Sunday, she was a cowgirl.
Another year, bother the olde4r girls insisted on sleeveless sundresses and open toed sandals. They were so excited, but, you guessed it, it came about four inches of snow the night before. I let them wear their outfits anyway and I felt like the worst mother ever, because I knew they were freezing. But they didn’t complain, and they were so proud of their outfits.
My mother has a few baby pictures of me from an Easter Sunday long, long ago. I am dressed in a white and blue sailor outfit with a little white hat. I think this is one of my favorite baby pictures. At one time or another, all three of my girls have worn a white and blue sailor outfit for Easter Sunday. I think they are my very favorite outfits. They looked so cute, and they were not bothered by all that lace and ruffles.
I have long since given away the oldest two girls sailor dresses, but I still have Christine’s. She was only nine months old, and her dress was more blue than white, but she was just as cute. And instead of a little white hat, she had a matching headband. One of these days, I want to take that Easter picture of myself, and one of each of my girls, and frame them together as a memento of Easters past.
This year my girls are 17, 15, and 7; and it is hard telling what they will choose to wear on Easter Sunday. They are all head strong when it comes to clothes and they all three have very different tastes.
Several years ago I have in on the requirement that the outfit has to be a dress or skirt, mainly because I hate wearing dresses. As I’ve grown older, I have realized that God doesn’t care what I wear; he only cares what is in my heart. So as long as I try to live my life the way God intended, he doesn’t care what kind of package we come in.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 1999
For some reason, our society is geared toward living life like some type of fashion show and church is the runway. In a time when we should be worrying about our Sunday school lessons, and living up to the Ten Commandments, some people seem to be more concerned about whether our shoes match our skirts, or whether our accessories are the most flattering. And Easter Sunday is the grand opening of the new spring fashion season.
Now, I have never been much into fashion. As long as I have a clean pair of jeans and my tennis shoes, I’m pretty much happy. But Easter Sunday means that I must, at least, make some kind of effort to look presentable. When it comes to my children, though, never fear, they were always ready for the season’s grand display.
When my three girls were all toddlers, they always wore lace and ruffles on Easter. They would be dressed to the nines … hat, gloves, lace socks, and new Mary Jane’s. Their hair would always be rolled in sponge rollers the night before, and then brushed and adorned with ribbons the following morning. Earrings, necklace, bracelets, and white shawl would always complete the outfit. I was always so proud when they received compliments throughout the day. It would give me that warm fuzzy feeling inside.
As my girls became school age, they began having more of a say in their Easter outfits. My only requirement was that the outfit had to be a dress or skirt, no pants. Boy, I should have been pickier! We have ended up with all types of outfits.
One year, Marie wore a sundress with large colorful flowers, purple shoes and a white and purple hat, not exactly my idea of an Easter outfit, but she loved it. One year, Amber insisted on a blue jean dress with her hiking boots. I held out for a long time on this one, but I decided, that in ten years, it wasn’t going to matter what she wore, as long as she was happy. So that Easter Sunday, she was a cowgirl.
Another year, bother the olde4r girls insisted on sleeveless sundresses and open toed sandals. They were so excited, but, you guessed it, it came about four inches of snow the night before. I let them wear their outfits anyway and I felt like the worst mother ever, because I knew they were freezing. But they didn’t complain, and they were so proud of their outfits.
My mother has a few baby pictures of me from an Easter Sunday long, long ago. I am dressed in a white and blue sailor outfit with a little white hat. I think this is one of my favorite baby pictures. At one time or another, all three of my girls have worn a white and blue sailor outfit for Easter Sunday. I think they are my very favorite outfits. They looked so cute, and they were not bothered by all that lace and ruffles.
I have long since given away the oldest two girls sailor dresses, but I still have Christine’s. She was only nine months old, and her dress was more blue than white, but she was just as cute. And instead of a little white hat, she had a matching headband. One of these days, I want to take that Easter picture of myself, and one of each of my girls, and frame them together as a memento of Easters past.
This year my girls are 17, 15, and 7; and it is hard telling what they will choose to wear on Easter Sunday. They are all head strong when it comes to clothes and they all three have very different tastes.
Several years ago I have in on the requirement that the outfit has to be a dress or skirt, mainly because I hate wearing dresses. As I’ve grown older, I have realized that God doesn’t care what I wear; he only cares what is in my heart. So as long as I try to live my life the way God intended, he doesn’t care what kind of package we come in.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, April 1999
Wednesday, February 3, 1999
Granny Devine and Sugar Cookies
In Loving Memory of
Ella Belle Camden Devine
October 21, 1914 to April 4, 1986
As the mother of three daughters, there are many things that we do together, some as a family and some individually. We do crafts together, write stories together, take bike rides together and watch movies together. And, although the girls are usually around to lend a helping hand – and sometimes an unhelping hand – when I’m cooking, I can’t remember ever baking cookies together. I have always been in a hurry with baking, or else I will do it while the girls are in school, but I don’t have any memories of me and the girls baking cookies together. But I do have terrific memories of baking cookies with my Granny Devine when I was a little girl.
Side by side, Granny and I would make sugar cookies in her small cramped kitchen. I remember my Granny’s house as being very small, but very big on love. When the entire family got together at Granny’s, we were packed in, but I can never remember anyone complaining. Anyway, the two of us would be steaming up the kitchen as we made our cookies. We would mix the ingredients and beat them all together, by hand – no electric mixer for Granny. We rolled out the dough on her kitchen/dining room table to the exact thickness. Then we would cut out the shapes and place them on the parchment lined cookie sheets. You know, I can only remember one shape of cookie, and that was circles made with an old glass from the cupboard. In to the warmed, gas oven the cookies would go.
Yummmmm … I can smell it now. That delicious scent of Granny’s sugar cookies baking in the oven. I always had to have the first one immediately out of the oven, uncooled and unfrosted. What a joy! We continued baking like this until all the dough had been used up. Thirty years ago, it was okay to eat the uncooked cookie dough, and I was always sneaking a lick off the side of the mixing bowl.
Once the cookies were baked and cooled, then came the fun part – frostings all our creations. Granny would have several different colors of frosting – red, blue, yellow and green. As I got older with a family of my own, I realized that these colors came from food coloring, but back then, I thought Granny was magic! We would frost and lick our fingers until all the cookies were done. Mine never looked as good as Granny’s, but she always told me mine were beautiful. What a compliment coming from my beloved Granny. When the icing was dry, we would pack the cookies in boxes and tins that my Granny kept stored under her bed. I, of course, got to take some cookies home to share with my family
My youngest daughter already has several memories that she loves to share with me, and one memory is of her and her Mamaw baking Valentine cookies for her preschool class. According to my mother-in-law, there was plenty of mess to clean up, but my daughter won’t remember that. What she will remember is being in the kitchen and helping her Mamaw with the baking.
What wonderful memories I have of my Granny Devine! She was such a caring and loving woman. I lost my Granny in 1986, but her memory lives on in the stories that I tell my childr3en. Will my children have memories of their own to share with their children? I hope so. We talk about the past quite a bit just so they can remember things like family traditions at Christmas or fun times at the amusement parks, or picnics in the park. I want them to be able to take great family memories into their futures. And my wish for the future … I just hope that I can be half the grandmother that my Granny was to me.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, February 1999
Ella Belle Camden Devine
October 21, 1914 to April 4, 1986
As the mother of three daughters, there are many things that we do together, some as a family and some individually. We do crafts together, write stories together, take bike rides together and watch movies together. And, although the girls are usually around to lend a helping hand – and sometimes an unhelping hand – when I’m cooking, I can’t remember ever baking cookies together. I have always been in a hurry with baking, or else I will do it while the girls are in school, but I don’t have any memories of me and the girls baking cookies together. But I do have terrific memories of baking cookies with my Granny Devine when I was a little girl.
Side by side, Granny and I would make sugar cookies in her small cramped kitchen. I remember my Granny’s house as being very small, but very big on love. When the entire family got together at Granny’s, we were packed in, but I can never remember anyone complaining. Anyway, the two of us would be steaming up the kitchen as we made our cookies. We would mix the ingredients and beat them all together, by hand – no electric mixer for Granny. We rolled out the dough on her kitchen/dining room table to the exact thickness. Then we would cut out the shapes and place them on the parchment lined cookie sheets. You know, I can only remember one shape of cookie, and that was circles made with an old glass from the cupboard. In to the warmed, gas oven the cookies would go.
Yummmmm … I can smell it now. That delicious scent of Granny’s sugar cookies baking in the oven. I always had to have the first one immediately out of the oven, uncooled and unfrosted. What a joy! We continued baking like this until all the dough had been used up. Thirty years ago, it was okay to eat the uncooked cookie dough, and I was always sneaking a lick off the side of the mixing bowl.
Once the cookies were baked and cooled, then came the fun part – frostings all our creations. Granny would have several different colors of frosting – red, blue, yellow and green. As I got older with a family of my own, I realized that these colors came from food coloring, but back then, I thought Granny was magic! We would frost and lick our fingers until all the cookies were done. Mine never looked as good as Granny’s, but she always told me mine were beautiful. What a compliment coming from my beloved Granny. When the icing was dry, we would pack the cookies in boxes and tins that my Granny kept stored under her bed. I, of course, got to take some cookies home to share with my family
My youngest daughter already has several memories that she loves to share with me, and one memory is of her and her Mamaw baking Valentine cookies for her preschool class. According to my mother-in-law, there was plenty of mess to clean up, but my daughter won’t remember that. What she will remember is being in the kitchen and helping her Mamaw with the baking.
What wonderful memories I have of my Granny Devine! She was such a caring and loving woman. I lost my Granny in 1986, but her memory lives on in the stories that I tell my childr3en. Will my children have memories of their own to share with their children? I hope so. We talk about the past quite a bit just so they can remember things like family traditions at Christmas or fun times at the amusement parks, or picnics in the park. I want them to be able to take great family memories into their futures. And my wish for the future … I just hope that I can be half the grandmother that my Granny was to me.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, February 1999
Saturday, January 2, 1999
A Far Cry From Perfect
Well, Christmas is over and the New Year is upon us. Where did the tie go? It seems like the older we get, the faster time slips through our fingers. We are powerless to stop it. All we can do is make the best of things. New Year’s is a time of rebirth, a time of hope, and a time of fulfillment. Resolutions are all around us … just waiting to start their magic.
This year, I want to be a better parent than I was last year. I try really hard, but I’m a far cry from perfect. I help with daily homework, constantly read new stories, and help cram for those big tests. I give suggestions on improvements and advice on resources. I lend a hand whenever needed and an ear when problems arise. I am a weekly school volunteer, I am active in the PTOs, and I offer help wherever needed. I have a tendency to not be able to say no. But sometimes my patience runs thin. Sometimes the arguments between my youngest two can break a camel's back. Sometimes I yell, sometimes I scream, sometimes I cry in vain. Sometimes the back talk, from all three, will test the best of saints.
So, instead of trying to be a better parent, I will try for a happy medium. I will continue o help while controlling my temper. Maybe, mommy needs a “timeout,” sometimes, instead of the girls. Maybe, mommy needs to go to bed early, or be grounded from her favorite things.
This year, I want to be a better Christian. I try really hard, but I’m a far cry from perfect. I read my bible, I pray each day, and I attend church, but no on a regular basis. I have drifted from my religion, and I can’t explain why. My girls attend church every Wednesday, and they are active in mission works, but where am I? I drop them off every week, then I hurry hoe to catch the news. After all, you don’t get much “alone” time when you have three children. To be a better Christian, I must start from inside. I must examine my reasons for straying, and then try to pull everything together. I must remember that I am a role model for my children. Monkey see, monkey do.
This year, I will be a better wife. I try really hard, but I’m a far cry from perfect. I give my spouse unconditional love and support, and I receive that in return. Sometimes we just sit and talk, even if there is housework to do. Sometimes we will watch television together, even if there are clothes to be washed. And we always have “date night” at least once a month. But, sometimes we both get angry, sometimes we snap and yell, sometimes we just don’t listen, and sometimes we don’t seem to care. I have many weaknesses that I must try to control, because, before I can become a better wife, I have to become a better person.
This year, I want to be a better parent than I was last year. I try really hard, but I’m a far cry from perfect. I help with daily homework, constantly read new stories, and help cram for those big tests. I give suggestions on improvements and advice on resources. I lend a hand whenever needed and an ear when problems arise. I am a weekly school volunteer, I am active in the PTOs, and I offer help wherever needed. I have a tendency to not be able to say no. But sometimes my patience runs thin. Sometimes the arguments between my youngest two can break a camel's back. Sometimes I yell, sometimes I scream, sometimes I cry in vain. Sometimes the back talk, from all three, will test the best of saints.
So, instead of trying to be a better parent, I will try for a happy medium. I will continue o help while controlling my temper. Maybe, mommy needs a “timeout,” sometimes, instead of the girls. Maybe, mommy needs to go to bed early, or be grounded from her favorite things.
This year, I want to be a better Christian. I try really hard, but I’m a far cry from perfect. I read my bible, I pray each day, and I attend church, but no on a regular basis. I have drifted from my religion, and I can’t explain why. My girls attend church every Wednesday, and they are active in mission works, but where am I? I drop them off every week, then I hurry hoe to catch the news. After all, you don’t get much “alone” time when you have three children. To be a better Christian, I must start from inside. I must examine my reasons for straying, and then try to pull everything together. I must remember that I am a role model for my children. Monkey see, monkey do.
This year, I will be a better wife. I try really hard, but I’m a far cry from perfect. I give my spouse unconditional love and support, and I receive that in return. Sometimes we just sit and talk, even if there is housework to do. Sometimes we will watch television together, even if there are clothes to be washed. And we always have “date night” at least once a month. But, sometimes we both get angry, sometimes we snap and yell, sometimes we just don’t listen, and sometimes we don’t seem to care. I have many weaknesses that I must try to control, because, before I can become a better wife, I have to become a better person.
Friday, December 25, 1998
Christmas Memories and Sausage
It is hard to believe that the Christmas season is upon us again. Where did the time go? It seems like the older I get, the faster time goes by. In the blink of an eye, the 1900’s will be gone and we will be staring at the new millennium. It all seems surreal. New memories will be made and stored, to mix with the old memories of family and loved ones.
Another think I have noticed about the fact I am getting older, is the type of memories I am remembering and cherishing. Family traditions and closeness are among my top memories. As I try and preserve these memories, with paper and ink, for my children, one particular Christmas memory leaps to mind. This memory is not of Santa, or presents, or candy. This memory, believe it or not, is of sausage and mustard.
When I was a little girl, my family lived in a small house in a wonderful subdivision. We were friendly with all our neighbors, and we always visited, especially during the holidays. Just thinking about my old neighbors brings an ache to my heart. I have live3d in my present home for over five years, and I still only know a handful of my neighbors. People just don’t visit like they did in the 60’s and 70’s, and I am just as guilty as the next person for not visiting.
Anyway, on this particular holiday night, one of our neighbors was having a Christmas party, and everyone was invited I was only eight, or maybe nine years old, and boy, was I ever looking forward to going to this party. But as fate would have it, on the day of the party, I got sick. I don’t remember what was wrong with me, but I do remember that my mom said I was too sick to go to the party. I was devastated! For a child, missing Christmas party is a major disappointment. My mom promised to bring me back something from the party, but it wouldn’t be the same. I would miss all my friends and the games we would play.
Cry as I might, I stayed home the night of the party. My brother and sister happily left with my mom, leaving me at home with my dad. Now, I loved my dad very much, but spending a night at home, alone, with him was not something I looked forward to. Little girls just seem to have a hard time talking with their dads, I thought for sure I would be stuck watching the news all night, since, back then, we only had one television.
So I plugged in the Christmas tree lights and plopped down on the couch to POUT! Pouting is something that I did, and still do, very well. I just sat there and stared at the television screen with a mean look on my face. To my surprise, my dad turned off the news and turned on a Christmas show. He then came over and sat by me on the couch. There we sat, side by side, neither of us saying a word. As my anger of being sick faded, I melted into my dad. As I snuggled up to him, he put his arm around me, and we watched the show together. We didn’t say a word, but I could feel the love flowing through the room. I felt so happy and content.
After the show, we were both hungry, so we headed for the kitchen. Now, my dad wasn’t much of a cook, in fact, as a child, I’m not sure if I can ever remember him cooking. After much debate, we decided that dad would fry some sausage we would eat sausage sandwiches for supper. As the sausage simmered, I puttered around the kitchen, trying to help my dad. I was in seventh heaven! I felt so close to my dad, the feeling was unbelievable.
When the sausage was done, we began assembling our sandwiches. Dad had said that we could eat in front of the television, so I was in a hurry to settle back down on the couch. Then I saw my dad do the strangest thing. He pulled the mustard out of the refrigerator, and began spreading it on his sausage. Mustard on sausage! Ugh! I thought that was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen. Bust dad convinced me to try a little bit, so, of course, I did.
As the two of us, again, sat side by side on the couch that warm, fuzzy feeling crept back in. There we sat, Christmas tree lights twinkling, a Christmas show playing the television, and the two of us eating sausage and mustard sandwiches. The love I felt for my dad at that moment was…indescribable. We sat there, together, for several hours, until mom and my siblings returned. Of course, she brought me some Christmas cookies, but that magical moment with my dad was broken…but never forgotten.
Now a days, I have a family of my own, and I hope they take great memories with them into adulthood. Our holiday season is built upon many family traditions, and some non-traditions. I want them to always remember how much I love them. Sausage and mustard may not be one of the things my girls remember, but for me, every time I cook sausage, I think of my dad. Since that one holiday night many years ago, I have never eaten sausage without mustard. For me, sausage and mustard will always remind me of my father’s love.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 1998
Another think I have noticed about the fact I am getting older, is the type of memories I am remembering and cherishing. Family traditions and closeness are among my top memories. As I try and preserve these memories, with paper and ink, for my children, one particular Christmas memory leaps to mind. This memory is not of Santa, or presents, or candy. This memory, believe it or not, is of sausage and mustard.
When I was a little girl, my family lived in a small house in a wonderful subdivision. We were friendly with all our neighbors, and we always visited, especially during the holidays. Just thinking about my old neighbors brings an ache to my heart. I have live3d in my present home for over five years, and I still only know a handful of my neighbors. People just don’t visit like they did in the 60’s and 70’s, and I am just as guilty as the next person for not visiting.
Anyway, on this particular holiday night, one of our neighbors was having a Christmas party, and everyone was invited I was only eight, or maybe nine years old, and boy, was I ever looking forward to going to this party. But as fate would have it, on the day of the party, I got sick. I don’t remember what was wrong with me, but I do remember that my mom said I was too sick to go to the party. I was devastated! For a child, missing Christmas party is a major disappointment. My mom promised to bring me back something from the party, but it wouldn’t be the same. I would miss all my friends and the games we would play.
Cry as I might, I stayed home the night of the party. My brother and sister happily left with my mom, leaving me at home with my dad. Now, I loved my dad very much, but spending a night at home, alone, with him was not something I looked forward to. Little girls just seem to have a hard time talking with their dads, I thought for sure I would be stuck watching the news all night, since, back then, we only had one television.
So I plugged in the Christmas tree lights and plopped down on the couch to POUT! Pouting is something that I did, and still do, very well. I just sat there and stared at the television screen with a mean look on my face. To my surprise, my dad turned off the news and turned on a Christmas show. He then came over and sat by me on the couch. There we sat, side by side, neither of us saying a word. As my anger of being sick faded, I melted into my dad. As I snuggled up to him, he put his arm around me, and we watched the show together. We didn’t say a word, but I could feel the love flowing through the room. I felt so happy and content.
After the show, we were both hungry, so we headed for the kitchen. Now, my dad wasn’t much of a cook, in fact, as a child, I’m not sure if I can ever remember him cooking. After much debate, we decided that dad would fry some sausage we would eat sausage sandwiches for supper. As the sausage simmered, I puttered around the kitchen, trying to help my dad. I was in seventh heaven! I felt so close to my dad, the feeling was unbelievable.
When the sausage was done, we began assembling our sandwiches. Dad had said that we could eat in front of the television, so I was in a hurry to settle back down on the couch. Then I saw my dad do the strangest thing. He pulled the mustard out of the refrigerator, and began spreading it on his sausage. Mustard on sausage! Ugh! I thought that was the most disgusting thing I had ever seen. Bust dad convinced me to try a little bit, so, of course, I did.
As the two of us, again, sat side by side on the couch that warm, fuzzy feeling crept back in. There we sat, Christmas tree lights twinkling, a Christmas show playing the television, and the two of us eating sausage and mustard sandwiches. The love I felt for my dad at that moment was…indescribable. We sat there, together, for several hours, until mom and my siblings returned. Of course, she brought me some Christmas cookies, but that magical moment with my dad was broken…but never forgotten.
Now a days, I have a family of my own, and I hope they take great memories with them into adulthood. Our holiday season is built upon many family traditions, and some non-traditions. I want them to always remember how much I love them. Sausage and mustard may not be one of the things my girls remember, but for me, every time I cook sausage, I think of my dad. Since that one holiday night many years ago, I have never eaten sausage without mustard. For me, sausage and mustard will always remind me of my father’s love.
© Bobbi Rightmyer, December 1998
Saturday, November 28, 1998
The Persuasions of Wal-Mart
Walk into Wal-Mart immediately after Halloween, and what is the first thing you see? Well, the first thing I see is not seen at all. I hear Christmas carols; Christmas carols before Thanksgiving! I hate to see the seasons rushed, but boy, listen to them. Doesn’t it just put you in the mood for the holiday season? Be remember, Bobbi, you are just here to pick up some AA batteries. Christine, my 6 year old, and I must move on. I don’t have time for Christmas shopping today. No, Christine, we are not here for cookies, or candy or chips, for that matter.
Let’s see … batteries … batteries … where are those batteries? No, Christine, you can’t have a candy bar. Oh, I wish they didn’t stock the candy on such a low shelf she sees everything. Ok, ok, just stop crying and you can have one candy bar. No, you can’t open it now. Wait until later. Now, what was I looking for?
Look at those cute little shirts! Wow, they are on sale. Well, the sign says they are on sale, but I can’t find the shirt I like with a sale tag on it. But this one is so adorable. My middle daughter, Marie, will just love this; she just loves Cookie Monster. Can you imagine, a 14 year old that still loves Cookie Monster? $24.95, I’ll just let them find the sale price when we check out. Hey, maybe she needs a new pair of pants to go with the shirt. Hmmm, these are perfect, $19.95. I hope these are the right sizes, I just hate to return things, especially at holiday time.
How did we get way over here? I don’t think I’ll find batteries down the video aisle. Look at this! X-Files: Fight For the Future, wow, and it’s the wide screen version, just what my hubby was looking for. This will make a wonderful gift for his Christmas stocking. $16.99, what a good price. And look, here is the new Shania Twain CD, my oldest, Amber, has been wanting this every since she saw Shania in concert. I guess I had better get it now before they are all gone.
Excuse me, Miss, where is everyone going in such a hurry? Sales special! In the bedding depart. Come one, Christine, let’s check this out. Sheets, blankets, towels, we could use plenty of these $22.99, $13.95, $6.50 each. These will come in handy.
Christine … Christine? Now where is she? Christine … oh, there you are. No, you don’t need a new craft kit. You still have one at home that you haven’t finished. Please get up. No, I let you get a candy bar, so you can’t get a craft. No! Please stop crying, honey. Ok, pick out a small paint set, and I mean one of the small ones. And, you had better stop that crying right this minute! Come on, sweetheart, let’s find the batteries so we can go home.
Ok, Bobbi, you’ve got to get out of here before you spend all your money. Let’s see. I still need to get some shampoo and soap. No, Christine, you can’t get a toy. No, I just let you pick out a craft kit, and you’ve got a candy bar. No, no toys. No, not even a book. I know, they’ve got the new Christmas books out, but it’s too soon to buy one. Ok, you can get a book, but you have to take the craft kit back. Please, don’t start whining. Come on, honey, you can’t have everything you want. Please don’t start crying. Ok, ok, one coloring book and that is it. No you cannot have new crayons. Pick out a coloring book and be quick about it.
Wow, look at the pretty Christmas lights. I shouldn’t be looking at these, I just got through carving pumpkins last week. I’m not ready to switch to Christmas so soon. Oh, my, there are the twinkling lights that I wanted last year. I never got any because they were all sold out. Maybe I’ll just get a few packages now while they’re in stock. Yes, Christine I see the Winnie the Pooh ornaments. Aren’t they the cutest things? Oh, I just can’t resist ornaments. I sometimes think I’m as bad as the kids are. I think maybe I’ll get one or two. I don’t know, maybe we need the whole set. I’d hate to get one or two and then not be able to get the rest. This is definitely the last thing I’m putting in this shopping cart. But I feel like I’m forgetting something.
Gosh, now I have to wait in line. Oh yeah, I forgot, we need a TV Guide. And I can never find a lighter to light my candles. I’d better get some gum for the older girls. $127.43! My hubby is going to kill me! I can’t believe that I spent this much money. Things are so expensive now a days.
Come on, Christine, let’s go home. Yes, now you can eat your candy bar. Just don’t get it all over everything. You know, you really wear me out when I take you to town. No, we can’t go to McDonald’s for lunch. We’ll eat a sandwich at home. Gosh, I feel like I’m forgetting something. I knew I should have made a list before going into Wal-Mart. Oh well, I guess I’ll remember what it was later. After all, I make three to four regular trips to Wally World every week. And who know, with Christmas coming …
© Bobbi Rightmyer
Let’s see … batteries … batteries … where are those batteries? No, Christine, you can’t have a candy bar. Oh, I wish they didn’t stock the candy on such a low shelf she sees everything. Ok, ok, just stop crying and you can have one candy bar. No, you can’t open it now. Wait until later. Now, what was I looking for?
Look at those cute little shirts! Wow, they are on sale. Well, the sign says they are on sale, but I can’t find the shirt I like with a sale tag on it. But this one is so adorable. My middle daughter, Marie, will just love this; she just loves Cookie Monster. Can you imagine, a 14 year old that still loves Cookie Monster? $24.95, I’ll just let them find the sale price when we check out. Hey, maybe she needs a new pair of pants to go with the shirt. Hmmm, these are perfect, $19.95. I hope these are the right sizes, I just hate to return things, especially at holiday time.
How did we get way over here? I don’t think I’ll find batteries down the video aisle. Look at this! X-Files: Fight For the Future, wow, and it’s the wide screen version, just what my hubby was looking for. This will make a wonderful gift for his Christmas stocking. $16.99, what a good price. And look, here is the new Shania Twain CD, my oldest, Amber, has been wanting this every since she saw Shania in concert. I guess I had better get it now before they are all gone.
Excuse me, Miss, where is everyone going in such a hurry? Sales special! In the bedding depart. Come one, Christine, let’s check this out. Sheets, blankets, towels, we could use plenty of these $22.99, $13.95, $6.50 each. These will come in handy.
Christine … Christine? Now where is she? Christine … oh, there you are. No, you don’t need a new craft kit. You still have one at home that you haven’t finished. Please get up. No, I let you get a candy bar, so you can’t get a craft. No! Please stop crying, honey. Ok, pick out a small paint set, and I mean one of the small ones. And, you had better stop that crying right this minute! Come on, sweetheart, let’s find the batteries so we can go home.
Ok, Bobbi, you’ve got to get out of here before you spend all your money. Let’s see. I still need to get some shampoo and soap. No, Christine, you can’t get a toy. No, I just let you pick out a craft kit, and you’ve got a candy bar. No, no toys. No, not even a book. I know, they’ve got the new Christmas books out, but it’s too soon to buy one. Ok, you can get a book, but you have to take the craft kit back. Please, don’t start whining. Come on, honey, you can’t have everything you want. Please don’t start crying. Ok, ok, one coloring book and that is it. No you cannot have new crayons. Pick out a coloring book and be quick about it.
Wow, look at the pretty Christmas lights. I shouldn’t be looking at these, I just got through carving pumpkins last week. I’m not ready to switch to Christmas so soon. Oh, my, there are the twinkling lights that I wanted last year. I never got any because they were all sold out. Maybe I’ll just get a few packages now while they’re in stock. Yes, Christine I see the Winnie the Pooh ornaments. Aren’t they the cutest things? Oh, I just can’t resist ornaments. I sometimes think I’m as bad as the kids are. I think maybe I’ll get one or two. I don’t know, maybe we need the whole set. I’d hate to get one or two and then not be able to get the rest. This is definitely the last thing I’m putting in this shopping cart. But I feel like I’m forgetting something.
Gosh, now I have to wait in line. Oh yeah, I forgot, we need a TV Guide. And I can never find a lighter to light my candles. I’d better get some gum for the older girls. $127.43! My hubby is going to kill me! I can’t believe that I spent this much money. Things are so expensive now a days.
Come on, Christine, let’s go home. Yes, now you can eat your candy bar. Just don’t get it all over everything. You know, you really wear me out when I take you to town. No, we can’t go to McDonald’s for lunch. We’ll eat a sandwich at home. Gosh, I feel like I’m forgetting something. I knew I should have made a list before going into Wal-Mart. Oh well, I guess I’ll remember what it was later. After all, I make three to four regular trips to Wally World every week. And who know, with Christmas coming …
© Bobbi Rightmyer
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