By the time you read this, Christmas will be a distant memory for another year and it will be time to gear up for the last celebration of the season, New Year’s Eve. It’s no different at my house with the exception that my youngest daughter has been partying since her friends came home from college around the second week of December.
The only thing I can figure that makes my house the kid magnet is my husband’s and my bedroom is across our one-story house from the family room, as opposed to above, as many two-story houses are laid out. We can’t hear the kids hooting and hollering all night, so party on girls.
Or it could be the food. I usually cook enough to feed a small army, which is rather fortuitous with a house full of adult children (at least that’s what society claims they are on paper). But with all these extra celebrations the merrymaking has been rocking all month long: Yay! They’re home from college! Yay! You have the day off work! Yay! We’re adults now and we can have a gift exchange, junk food eating, butt-o-rama (in which a group sits and watches movie after movie) all by ourselves!
There is the little glitch that requires a human body to eat real food at some point during the 24 hours they spend reveling at our house. If nothing else, they at least need the kind of sustenance to give them enough energy to drive home after the sugar binge of the night before. That’s where I come in and for this reason I have had to qualify the difference between their desire to spend as much time together at my house before college starts back up and how often I would be slaving away in the kitchen.
It didn’t really help that no matter when they decided to get together I was already cooking a large dinner. It’s my way so I can make sure I have leftovers for lunches or additional dinners or, apparently, company. Although, now that I think about it, they often showed up around dinner time. And since I always have enough to feed a crowd, the kids began to get the wrong idea of the kind of mother I was. During the first get-together of the month, after one of the kids asked me what was for breakfast, I began to understand my role in their lives. So I set them straight: “I don’t cook breakfast for anything other than a parent-sponsored event.” It’s good to lay out expectations of a relationship before anyone gets the wrong idea.
We discussed what this meant for them so they had time to ponder this resident mother’s decree of when exactly I would cook. It’s not hard to figure out: If I invited them personally, it was parent-sponsored. If they arrived by invitation from one of my kids, they were welcome to partake in any food I was already making or they were willing to prepare themselves, but I wouldn’t be cooking breakfast.
“Does our gift exchange count?”
“No. That’s your first planned grown-up party. I’m only providing the space.”
“What about New Year’s?”
“Yes, I am planning that party.”
“Yay!”
There is always a reason to celebrate at my house even if it’s just because I’m cooking breakfast. Happy New Year to all you readers. I hope someone cooks you breakfast sometime, too.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh,” or twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Life section.
