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I cannot believe it is approaching July already. Mostly because my son, Thatcher, will be turning two years old on the 1st. I still remember bringing him home from the hospital like it was yesterday. It was the 4th of July and blazing hot outside in comparison to the freezing hospital room I'd been staying in for four days. We squinted our eyes as we walked outside into the waft of July air with our new baby boy tucked safely in his carseat for the very first time. As we drove home I must have turned around to look at him a dozen times. I don't think he made a peep...although that's the "mommy memory" people talk about when details get fuzzy.
Growing up, the 4th of July was a big family affair. Relatives would come into town from far and wide and we'd spend a few days catching up on one another. We'd play horseshoes and the kids would put on plays in my grandparents backyard. One year I won the watermelon spitting contest. I was so incredibly proud! As the day wore on, my Uncle and Dad would take the young boys to the back of the property and build homemade fireworks (aka bombs, pretty sure it's super illegal). They'd blow them off and get a bang out of all the girls shreiking at the loud boom. At night we'd all go to my parents house on 6th Street and sit out in the front yard, just blocks away from the big High School fireworks show. As a kid I can still remember my big sister watching from her bedroom upstairs because she hated the sound so much. As we grew older, we'd invite friends to join us and we'd sit down on the lawn with a nice cold beer in hand to watch the show with "I'm Proud to be an American" blarring from the FM radio broadcast that coordinated with the fireworks show. If I close my eyes I can still smell and hear those hot summer 4th of July nights.
It felt right to bring him home on the 4th of July...holds a special place in my heart. That year we sat on our back patio, holding a sleeping newborn through the bangs and booms of fireworks in the air. It was perfect.
My grandparents moved from their home into a smaller and newer place a couple summers ago. The 4th isn't quite the same without their big backyard, tree house and garden to run around in. Last year we went back "home" for the holiday and it was in a word, different. Not in a bad way, but just made me start to see things through the eyes of our son. What special memories will he treasure in his heart? What will he look back on that was a happy place? Will it be running through the sprinkler at his grandparent's house? Will it be playing with his cousins and Uncle Steven in the backyard and doing sparklers? Whatever it is, I hope that he can always look at this family and be thankful. I know I am.
Growing up, the 4th of July was a big family affair. Relatives would come into town from far and wide and we'd spend a few days catching up on one another. We'd play horseshoes and the kids would put on plays in my grandparents backyard. One year I won the watermelon spitting contest. I was so incredibly proud! As the day wore on, my Uncle and Dad would take the young boys to the back of the property and build homemade fireworks (aka bombs, pretty sure it's super illegal). They'd blow them off and get a bang out of all the girls shreiking at the loud boom. At night we'd all go to my parents house on 6th Street and sit out in the front yard, just blocks away from the big High School fireworks show. As a kid I can still remember my big sister watching from her bedroom upstairs because she hated the sound so much. As we grew older, we'd invite friends to join us and we'd sit down on the lawn with a nice cold beer in hand to watch the show with "I'm Proud to be an American" blarring from the FM radio broadcast that coordinated with the fireworks show. If I close my eyes I can still smell and hear those hot summer 4th of July nights.
It felt right to bring him home on the 4th of July...holds a special place in my heart. That year we sat on our back patio, holding a sleeping newborn through the bangs and booms of fireworks in the air. It was perfect.
My grandparents moved from their home into a smaller and newer place a couple summers ago. The 4th isn't quite the same without their big backyard, tree house and garden to run around in. Last year we went back "home" for the holiday and it was in a word, different. Not in a bad way, but just made me start to see things through the eyes of our son. What special memories will he treasure in his heart? What will he look back on that was a happy place? Will it be running through the sprinkler at his grandparent's house? Will it be playing with his cousins and Uncle Steven in the backyard and doing sparklers? Whatever it is, I hope that he can always look at this family and be thankful. I know I am.
