Family Dinner

I was halfway through them when I started to cry, Oh how I miss her. Thinking of my dads mom. I was making perogies for family dinner tonight. A meal that was increasingly becoming one of my favorites. I instituted it after moving into my boyfriends house. I saw and felt the need for it. These kids needed the connection amongst themselves and with others in the family.

So every Sunday night my house fills up with either just the kids and myself, and Dad if he is home, or sometimes the Auntys come with the cousins. I am in my element in this environment. Surrounded by family, and making food for them.

Years ago, many years ago it was pretty common that my family would get together to share a meal together. My cousins lived not too far from us, as did my other aunt. Those memories of us around the same table, seem to be fading further and faster away. I miss that. Since becoming an adult and mother in my own right, I have longed for the family togetherness that we used to have. But over time, the relationships for whatever became strained, now we hardly talk, let alone have dinner together.

Maybe I’m old school. but in a world where everyone is on their phones 24/7. Where what’s happening on Facebook, Instagram, or the million other social sites is more important than anything else, I think we have lost something. More and more we are losing our families. Sure compared to the 50’s when the nuclear family was still intact,  where both Mom and Dad were home for dinner, as were the kids, things are drastically different. Now the nuclear family has all but disappeared in a lot of families. Family comes in many different forms now, but the connection we had with them has changed.

I can’t remember the last time me and my immediate family sat down and had dinner. Maybe high school? My parents have since divorced, we grew up and live in different areas of the country.

Just before I left I got a taste of family dinner of the past, when I got to see my Grandmother. It brought tears to my eyes and it became very apparent just how much I missed this little thing. So when I moved, and was going to have a new family I wanted to do things differently. As important as I think it is for the kids, I knew deep down I needed it too. I needed to connect with those around me.

I selfishly love Sundays. My day is spent usually cleaning then dreaming up the nights menu. Its usually something homemade, like Grandma or Baba made. I want the same feeling I got when I had those meals years ago. But not only that it gave me the chance to pass on family traditions with food. I know the kids get at least one good meal for sure. But seeing them happy and engaged has been the best part of this experience. Nothing makes this Momma happier or prouder than seeing the kids enjoying themselves, connecting with their siblings, me, their Dad, their cousins, Aunts etc.

It makes my heart glow, and makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I love seeing the joy my cooking, my food brings the people I love. I have never felt more complete, more like a mother than I do now. These family dinners have brought me love and happiness.

As for Babas perogies, well they speak for themselves, and they are always my favorite food to make because it brings me closer to her, and my family traditions and heritage. And that is what these family dinners are all about in the end. Love, family, food, traditions and heritage. ❤ ❤ ❤

bittersweet

Wiping the crud out of my eyes this morning, I woke up to being nuzzled by a furry, purring face reminding me that it was time to get up and feed him. I rolled around and grabbed the phone to see 5:45 glaring back at me in glowing numbers. I let out a low growl, buried my head back under the pillow trying to avoid what was about to happen. Seriously I begged the furry beast now roaming my chest and face “one more minute?”

Apparently not in the cards this morning! Like most people I checked my FB and as I sifted through the posts of friends and family, the Universe once again guided me to search my kids name. I did, naturally and was met with unexpected photos. It looked like his grad or prom. Oh he is so handsome. My heart glowing with pride and love for this not little boy (now a man).

It was a second photo that I saw, that brought the tears in great quantities. A family photo, all the faces beaming with pride. One definitely missing some people, like me. I felt a twinge of jealousy rip through my heart like forest fire. How many times had I prayed to be able to be there for that moment. Clearly not enough I thought as the tears rolled down my face. I got mad, mad at the lies I would hear, if they even told me. I was ashamed and proud at the same moment. Ashamed of them, with the smiles on their faces, ashamed this was the family I came from, the one I am fighting so hard to bring together. Hurt because I know they will pretend it never happened, either to spite me, or maybe not to hurt me. I don’t know anymore, it’s terribly confusing.

Among those harsh emotions, I never felt so proud. My heart was welling up with love and gratitude. I am most definitely grateful. I saw my aunt, with the biggest smile. I am happy for her, I am proud that I was able to give that to her, whether or not she acknowledges it, or me. I know what I have done, and I am very proud of that. I see my son just beaming. I think of his father, his family and I silently smile and say thank you to them for this gift, I also cry because they aren’t here to see it, but I know they are all in Heaven watching over him and also beaming with pride.

I struggle with what is the right way to feel. There are so many emotions right now, it’s hard to keep them contained. I fight the jealousy, I know its wrong, especially after how hard I have worked over the years to free myself of feelings like this, but I ride the wave and go with it, I know it is just passing. I am angry at all the deceit and slight of hand that has gone on for the last 15 years. I acknowledge it, I feel it as it passes through me. In the end I am left with love and happiness, and pride. This moment has been a culmination of many peoples experiences, their love. I realize that it was never just one of us, it was me, it was them, it was my grandparents. We all did this for that little boy. It was with the best of intentions, and the most love that this crazy road began. It was probably a lot easier for everyone else involved, my part of this journey, well lets just say I don’t think anyone would pick it purposely. It was filled with gallons of tears, the constant breaking of my heart, and sometimes of my spirit, my faith in God, my family, well everything. But like the phoenix, out of the ashes comes something beautiful and amazing.

I am one proud mama right now, whether my son knows it or not, and if I am by myself. I love that boy (man) with all my heart, and even if I couldn’t be there with him, with them on that special day I couldn’t be happier for him. I also am happy for his parents, they raised one pretty special kid ( I might be a little biased), I know it couldn’t have happened without them. So for that I am extremely grateful.

Life doesn’t always follow the path we think it should, there are bumps, turns and sometimes potholes in the road. They are there to remind us of the bigger picture and what is important in life. What defines us as a person is how we react to these things, and what we do next.

Just now “Bittersweet Symphony” came on the radio. Just to remind me how bittersweet this moment is for me. Like I need the help. The tears still falling, but ones of joy and love. I think of my son, and how much I love him. Hoping he can feel it a thousand miles away. ❤