Hosting Thanksgiving

The Friday before Thanksgiving, I hired a handyman to repair a few things in my home (light above the shower, noisy bathroom fan, broken kitchen drawer, runny toilets) in anticpation of my daughter, husband, and three children, and her mother law.  I was excited to host Thanksgiving at my home this year since my home is always so quiet and without guests.

From Friday to Wednesday, I dusted, vaccummed, cleaned, shopped, and prepared food.  Finally on Wednesday evening everyone arrived.  Sleeping arrangements had been made and the little condo very comfortably welcomed the entire family.  The one year old explored the condo from top to bottom, peeking here and there, but crying constantly.  The seven year old had been missing a visit for the past three years, so she was excited.  The son-n-law went from upstairs to downstairs to outdoors constantly.  Each time he returned, he brought another case of beer with him.  

His mother and I laughed while watching TV and talking in the livingroom.  She and I had a lot in common and always enjoyed each other's company.  All of the ladies gathered at some point in the kitchen and prepared some part of the meal.  Of course it was exciting, but exhausting at the same time.  As I took a seat in the livingroom, I watched my granddaughter sit in my pretty little accent chair that didn't rock or swivel, but somehow, she managed to make it do both.  I noticed the legs on the chair begin to struggle.  I nicely asked her to sit still.  The chair was really only meant to be an accent to the room, but later on, I saw my daughter sitting in it, and those poor little legs began to quiver beneath the weight of that big butt of hers.  Later on, dad took a seat in it and my heart almost stopped.  Lord, I wonder if the poor little accent chair will survive this holiday.  Unfortunately, before the visit was over, the ottomon to the accent chair was ready for the trash.  

As I sat on the couch resting between the preparation of meals, I noticed that the one drawer that was being held together by one nail and some glue kept the attention of the one year old.  He yanked on that one draw out of six until it was danglining from its original place.  I successfully put it back in its place.  One hour later, it was on the floor. 

 At some point, I went upstairs to my office to find a plastic round piece on the floor.  It looked like it either belonged to the back of my office chair or the computer.  I'm not sure.  As I stood there pondering where the plastic piece came from,  my daughter arrived in my office with a silly look on her face.  "Mommy, the baby boy accidentally broke your vase that was sitting near the accent chair."  I just looked at her and asked God to continue to help me as I practiced patience.  I told my daughter that it was okay (although it was not) and that it was just a vase.  My mind began to think of what I could put in its place once they all went back home.

I took pride in creating a space under the steps where the little ones could play.  My other grandbabies who lived nearby loved the space under the stairs so much that they actually painted under there, and put up beautiful lighting.  I threw in a fluffy carpet just to enhance their experience.  I purchase hand held toys that lit up just to give them a great experience.  I was certain that the one year old and the two year old who lived nearby would be preoccupied with that space, especially with the large lego blocks that I also purchased; I was so wrong.  They remained under those stairs for not more than 10 minutes.  The large lego blocks went into the mouth of the one year old and was thrown across the room after that.  I must have picked them up three or four times before he would turn the box upside down and empty the pieces all over the livingroom floor and then run away.  Watching him do what he does helped me to clearly understand why the good Lord does not allow women over sixty to give birth.  Just witnessing his little antics and the constant screaming and crying was enough for me.

Once everyone was gone, I went about the house inspecting the damage.  The accent chair, like the ottoman is now ready for the salvation army. One of the legs is completely damaged and the chair has lost its ability to hold anyone although it still looks good for a one year old.  The kitchen drawer is complete garbage and cannot withstand anymore glue or nails.  Time to go ahead and get that long overdue kitchen renovation.  No more bandages will do.  I placed a lamp where the vase use to sit, and I am still not sure where the round plastic piece goes.  

I absolutely savored the blessing of family.  It was a treat for sure, but it will be a while before my home recovers from the wounds of toddlers and grownups all about my house.  Would I do it again?  Absolutely!