We are moms, so we are so proud of our children’s artworks, glittered cards, construction-paper ornaments, decorated letters, and exuberant finger paintings. And then to find out these creations are made just for us for Christmas, well, that just melts our hearts. That’s what the holiday is about, after all — love, togetherness, appreciation. We are sincere in our sentiments and take them very seriously.
I take pride in being comfortable in my own skin. The unfortunate neighbor who glances at my house when I happen to be walking by an unshaded window knows this all too well. But it wasn’t until this weekend that I realized how uncomfortable in my clothes I have been.
As we enter this holiday week, our thoughts are mostly on food, traveling, the logistics of traveling with kids, family, avoiding political fights, food, and pie. Well, you can tell where my thoughts lie anyway. We have much to be thankful for, and those thoughts enter our mind as well, as they should. But how much importance do we give them? Does giving thanks usurp eating food on Thanksgiving?
This is a sponsored post from Disney Music and One2One Network, but the opinions are entirely my own.
I grew up with Disney, as I’m sure you all did too. I remember the gigantic Goofy puzzle I hid beneath the chair in my Pop-pop’s living room for safekeeping and played with during every single visit. I remember the trip to Walt Disney World; I think that was the first time I experienced awe. I remember dancing to Jungle Book music with my sister over and over. I remember my Mickey Mouse shirt (now vintage) that I wore threadbare. I remember the movies that not only entertained me for hours and hours but also heightened my imagination and belief in magic in the world. (Yes, even as an adult, a few of those movies still rank as favorites.) And I remember the music — oh, the music!
Owen, a neighborhood kid and genius with plants, rang my doorbell. Cracking the door just a bit and holding the dogs back with my legs, I smiled and said hi, waiting expectantly.
“Hi. Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but you have a lot of weeds around your house. I mean, you have the most of anyone in the neighborhood. Do you mind if I look through them for specimens?”
Embarrassed but kinda impressed that Owen was so forthright, I answered, “Sure, Owen. Take whatever you want. Regardless of how it looks, I’m not a fan of weeds.”
Owen trotted off happily toward his treasures, and I receded back into the house feeling a bit ashamed to be that house in the neighborhood.