Our Christmas celebration was steeped in family traditions. While we no longer play with Hot Wheels, other traditions have emerged. A large family dinner with my family complete with a white elephant exchange. Buying a gift from our church's giving tree (tricycle to Ukraine this year). Communion and candlelight service late Christmas Eve. Stockings before breakfast. A china and crystal breakfast. Open gifts. Gather with hubby's family.
This year was a clothes (and a few electronics) year for the boys. Ricky strutted around in his letter jacket and Ron has worn his Komet Hockey jersey to about three games already. Ricky started reminiscing about gifts from the past, which pleased me greatly. When they were 9 years old, we sent them on a 3-county scavenger hunt for their own solo canoes. That was fun.
New chairs! Dining room chairs! To be delivered in about a month. The few wobbly chairs left from the set I bought in 1972 are almost beyond repair and certainly aren't holding up to the ploppy rocky actions of teenagers. We will refinish the table and I'm eyeing the walls and curtains for a makeover.
We brought in the New Year at home, perfect for Steve and I. Ron went to a sold-out hockey game with a friend and then stayed overnight. Ricky had talked about going to a party all week and that fell through, plus his ski trip was cancelled because of lack of snow. Oh, how hard it was to experience the extreme disappointment of a 17 year old at home with his family when he longed to be with friends. He spent the night working on his MySpace page and managing his playlists. It reminded me of a male version of the old Janis Ian song, Seventeen. It's easy to forget how deeply emotions are felt at that age.
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen
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