
One more day of work and I am free for Christmas break. Tomorrow night my husband will be home, my sister and brother in law will be here to visit. We will be sitting around, sipping wine, getting caught up on the family news. I am so ready 🎄.

One more day of work and I am free for Christmas break. Tomorrow night my husband will be home, my sister and brother in law will be here to visit. We will be sitting around, sipping wine, getting caught up on the family news. I am so ready 🎄.

This year, for the first time in 42 years, my nest will be empty for Christmas. I somehow thought this would be a time to dread but to be honest, I am quite enjoying it.
I am sorry that my husband has to work all Christmas Day, but I will spend much of the day making us a beautiful turkey supper. We will have time together in the days before Christmas and over New Years. My sister and her husband will be here this weekend and my sons will be here with their families after Christmas.

I have done some baking and set out minimal decorations. I am picking up a couple of gifts for my husband. The kids are getting cards with enough cash to take their families on a special outting.

For the most part, this will just be a nice relaxing time off from work. This year I will have time to enjoy the winter wonderland outside our door – without actually going outside of our door. This year there will be no fussy babies, fighting siblings or arguing couples. There will be no whining, complaining, or crying. And there will definitely be nobody getting the flu and throwing up on the Christmas tree.

This year there will just be peace and goodwill! The way Christmas should be🕊️

Today is National Ambrosia Day. I can’t believe that of all the salads that could score their own day, that the honor would go to Ambrosia Salad.
Ambrosia Salad is a mix of fruit (typically orange sections as the base), creamy milk product (yogurt, whipped cream or sour cream) and mini marshmallows. It is not my favourite food – so not my favorite since it is a combination of my three least favourite foods. In the eighties it was super popular, particularly with my mother in law who served it with disturbing regularity.
My son Danny loves food – eating it, preparing it, discussing it. A couple of times a year we travel across the province to visit Danny and his family and a couple of times a year they come home. Every trip is preceded by a discussion on the food that will be served. Danny threatens me with Ambrosia salad. I threaten him with tomato aspic (which probably does not get it’s own national holiday🙁).

My parents were both born into large families. My father had twenty siblings and my mother had nine. By the time I was born, both families had scattered across the country, but they kept in touch. They would visit back and forth, celebrate holidays together and have family gatherings They were there for each other during good times and bad – always.
My parents had five daughters and one son. I was the youngest. From the time I can remember, my two oldest sisters were married and living away from home. My brother was ten years older than I, so he was in highschool when I was starting grade one. Regardless, I always knew all of my family. The older siblings would come home with their famlies to visit and we would go to visit them. I saw them regularly. Once we were all grown up, we were widespread, but we kept in touch and got together. We would gather on a regular basis. We all spent time with our parents and they would come to spend time with us. As our parents aged, and their health failed, we were there to support them, and each other. To this day, we keep in touch via social media, we call, we visit. We were, and we still are, family.
Back in my day, family meant something. Family was a commitment. Family was loyalty, respect, shared memories and a shared unconditional love for our parents and each other. We are not always super close, geographically or otherwise. We have our differences and we certainly all have our faults, but we would never deliberately or spitefully hurt each other. There is always a line of consideration that we do not cross as family. Family, and extended family matters.
Nowdays families are shattered on a regular basis. My own sons and daughter have little love or respect for each other. Their love and respect for me only goes so far. They certainly do not maintain peace in the family for my sake or anyone else’s. This has caused me much grief over the years. I have come to accept it, not because I want to, but because it is not my choice.
Our family is hardly unique. This is the norm for many these days. Family or not, you disagree with me, you cross me one way or another and you are toxic and you are out. There is no going back. I know sisters and brothers in their eighties who have nothing to do with each other, parents who won’t speak to their children, children who will not speak to their parents and children who do not know their aunts or uncles or cousins. Many, if not most, of these family breakdowns could have been resolved with a reasonable conversation, but people don’t want to talk and they certainly are not willing to listen.
It is a shame and it is beyond sad, especially during the holiday season, that families cannot set aside their differences. It is a shame that family members are strangers, that memories cannot be made or shared, and that traditions are lost. It is a shame that generations of children are growing up without the stability and security of extended family. It is terrible that such selfishness and disrespect shatters so many families.
It is not a wonder that there is so much conflict and violence in the world. Love and peace and respect and kindness are learned at home. If this is not what we are teaching our families, than what are we releasing into the world?

Today is a double anniversary for me. 43 years ago, I got married. Weddings and marriages are supposed to be rated on the positive scale of life. That one wasn’t. By the time I got to my wedding day, I knew I should run. I didn’t.
Today is the 24th anniversary of my divorce. That should be a negative, but it wasn’t. I am proud that I got out. I am proud that I took myself and my three teenagers, my dog and my plant out of a really bad situation. I am proud that I worked my butt off, kept a roof over our heads and food in the cupboards, and decent clothes in our closets. I am proud that I worked my way up from a worn out sedan to a cool reliable, turbo-charged convertible. I am proud that I took my kids on memorable holidays, spent time with them, and gave them the home they deserved – even if it was only for a few years.
Today my kids are on their own, living their own lives and raising their own beautiful families. I am happily married to a good man. He is caring and kind and funny. We have a good life, a new dog and lots of plants.
My divorce was a good thing. The best thing I ever did. There really isn’t a good way to celebrate a divorce. People think you are bitter or angry or awful, if you ever mention it, no matter how good it was. So I don’t.
I do celebrate my first marriage and my divorce every year on October 8th. I don’t make a big deal out of it, no party or anything. I just go for a walk, stomp the hell out of a few flowers, feel good about myself and grateful for the life I have. 😊