As we approach the holidays I’ve been thinking about my family.
And when I say “my family,” I mean my parents and my brothers. The people I grew up with, the ones who raised me and that I was raised with.
I cried like a child earlier at the preview episode of the show Find My Family. For some reason (and I honestly don’t know why) the whole subject of adoption and people being separated from their siblings and parents makes me bawl every time. It’s the reunion part that really gets me. I truly cannot imagine the feeling of coming face-to-face with the parents who gave you up and looking into the eyes that are also yours, for the very first time as an adult.
It’s completely heart-wrenching to me. I suppose because my family means SO VERY much to me.
When I think about my childhood I remember Friday night fried chicken, fun birthday parties, visiting my grandparents a lot, loving school, shopping at the mall with my mother, sleep-overs with my best girlfriends, holidays with lots of food and presents, going to church with my parents and so MANY other good memories.
But in a way, as I got older (and so did my brothers – who are all several years older than I am) I was sort of like an only child. Therefore, the earlier childhood memories I do have with my brothers are pretty special.
I remember my middle brother Chris comforting me one night after my mother and I fought. He surrounded me on my bed with stuffed animals and made me laugh instead of cry.
When I was in high school my brother Larry would still occasionally eat dinner with us and most nights it would end in crazy laughter. There were many times that my mother could not control herself and as things escalated one evening, iced tea came out of her nose. All four of us (me, my mother, my father and my brother) were laughing so hard that we could hardly catch our breath.
These are the kind of memories I want my children to have. I want them to remember laughing around the dinner table and happy times together.
I may even be willing to make tea come out of my nose to make it happen.
And just for the heck of it, here’s an old little joke/rhyme my mother used to tell that still makes me giggle. Partly because I can hear her say it and picture her as she starts to laugh before she even finishes the second line…
“Farmer Brown went to town with a bale of Hay
Mr. Martin came a fartin’ and blew it all away!”
You’re welcome… ; )