Every night, if I can get myself upstairs, de-make-up-ified, clean tooth-ed, and pajama-ed before I'm too exhausted, I read a chapter of "All Things Wise and Wonderful" by James Herriot. I've had the book for several years now (a gift from my mom), but it wasn't until a couple of months ago that I actually took it off my shelf and decided to read it. I was looking for something light that I could read right before bed--something that wouldn't bore me to tears, but also something that wouldn't be such a page-turner that I'd have to stay up all night to see how it all ended. This book fit my needs perfectly. It's funny, charming, and right up my alley. I'm nearing the end of it now, and I think I'll go right ahead and try another one of Mr. Herriot's books when I'm done with this one.
I'm still trying to get all our clothes and gear put away from our Corry Reunion adventures. Much of it goes into the attic, and although I love having an attic where we can store so much of our excess goods, I don't especially love going up there, especially with an arm full of sleeping bags, blankets, suitcases, or what-have-you. Eric is generally willing to take it up for me of course, but often I don't think about it when he's home. So, it all sits, dispersed fairly evenly between our bedroom and Eric's man-room, waiting to be deposited in a more permanent home. Maybe tomorrow . . .
Speaking of tomorrow (and beyond), lately I've been idly wondering about something that's off in our distant future, if it ends up being a part of our future at all.
When I was young, my father (following some advice that he'd received from a friend) determined that each week he would take one of his children out on a little dad/kid date. I loved this. Every Friday one of us would get a chance to have one-on-one time with dad, and we got to choose (within reason) what we would do. For my choices, I remember attending the grand opening of the new Skaggs Alpha-Beta (small town treats, you know?), eating ice cream in a real-live-old-fashioned malt shoppe, and riding four-wheelers all over the mountain, among other activities. Mostly I remember talking with my dad, and feeling totally comfortable sharing anything I had bottled up inside of me.
I hope you won't think that I'm going too far when I say this, but the fact is, I credit these dates, at least in part, with the close relationship that I have with my father today.
So, what does that mean for me and Eric and Heather? Honestly, I'm not sure. The fact is, now that I look back on it, I realize that my mother ended up sacrificing a fair amount so that we could have that individual time with my dad. For one thing, while we were out doing our one-on-one time, she was home doing five-on-one time with the other children in the family. For another, there were weeks when time constraints didn't allow for both daddy/kid alone time and daddy/mommy alone time. When that happened, sometimes daddy/mommy time won out, but it definitely wasn't all the time.
So, I ask myself, will I be willing to make sacrifices along those lines?
I honestly don't know. That's okay though, because at this point, I don't have to know. After all, I'm now in a different family from the one in which I grew up. Eric is not my dad, I'm not my mom, and Heather is not me. So even while I contemplate the traditions that I grew up with, and the sacrifices that had to be made for me to enjoy them, I look to the future, where I fully expect to establish (along with Eric and Heather) our traditions (My apologies for this extra long run-on sentence. Mr Bonzo, Beware!). Traditions that will work in our family and help us to become more united, more loving, and even more happy than we are now.
And I think that's it for today.
p.s.--Poll-time continues with two new offerings on the sidebar . . . just in case you hadn't noticed them yet .