My parents loved to have the family over for holidays, birthdays and, really, for no excuse at all.
I especially remember Christmas when we would wake up and excitedly see if Santa had come (I remember one year when my brother and I awoke at 4am and wondered why no one else would get up!), then have breakfast, go to church and then have our grandparants, aunts, uncles and cousins over for a big Christmas dinner.
My mom was the oldest in her family and had her kids before her siblings got married and started their families, so maybe it was a given that our family hosted the holidays in the early years. I never remember her being stressed or short-tempered by the pressure of getting the house ready, baking cookies, shopping and wrapping gifts, on top of getting the big meal prepared. This would be unlike me, who stresses over every last detail!
I cherish these memories.
My mom would have a fit about this picture! She used to wear a wig and this one was a doozy. I came across this one and the memories just came flooding back. This is the kitchen of the house I grew up in, in Warren. When we drive past that house now, how tiny it is really strikes me. It was a very small house to raise four kids in. Until they added on, when I was about eleven, my two sisters and I shared a small room. We had a triple decker bunk bed, mine being a trundle bed rolled out of sight under my sister’s bunks during the day. My mom had her copper jello molds decorating the kitchen wall. I have one, put away somewhere, that she gave me several years ago. She would have been standing next to the kitchen table (it would be to the right in the picture) which stood in the corner by the windows, one next to her and the other on the other wall. Notice the gingerbread house behind her? Another Christmas dinner.