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Over the past few weeks, I have been evaluating our traditions on the holidays. Certainly, these thoughts have been spawned by the cool crisp evenings, the fire roaring in the living room, and the mornings visited by Jack Frost. Oh, and the endless amount of toy catalogs filling our mailbox.
Christmas for the Chandler's is evolving into a holiday filled with more meaning than toys; toys that typically collect dust as the new year begins. I presented the change to our youngest (still a believer in the magic) that Christmas was going to look a little different this year. In a very matter of fact manner, I explained that this year when we draft our letter for Santa, we are going to focus on three categories: Want, Need, and Read. He didn't blink. He set out to compose the following list; given no directions or help from either of us. He then proceeded to ask me for help in composing an "acrostic poem" for Santa. He had already lined the word "Santa" down his paper in vertical fashion, writing in big block letters. Be still my heart! Never do we as parents want to disappoint our children, but if we continue to disguise the meaning of Christmas by presenting them with a mountain of gifts under the tree, we are enabling them to have the wrong impression of what Christmas is truly about. They need to be taught how to appreciate any and all gifts they receive, like homemade cookies from a neighbor or the handwritten letters from their adoring aunt. They need to be shown what it looks like to give, and feel the full heart afterwards. As parents, we can talk and teach all we want, but until we embrace the action and show our children, our words will carry little value. The early morning light of November 8th, 2015 marked the start of the 2015/2016 wrestling season for the Chandler boys.
Each had a chance to wrestle on National Dual Teams this past weekend. William wrestled for School of Buxton and Benjamin wrestled for Super Kids. Most of their opponents were state contenders or multiple time state placers. Most of these little guys wrestle year round. Not our boys. They are seasonal wrestlers, giving their bodies and their minds a chance to rest. Different strokes for different folks. The boys lost. They lost big time. Benjamin, first time ever, pinned in every match. William, pinned 3 times, one tech fall, and one major decision. There were tears, scratches, and bruises. Even a little blood. However, amidst the fear, anger, and hurt, they got up. Only to get knocked down again and again. Five times to be exact. Their resiliency shined today. They took the loses hard, however thanked their coaches for the opportunity they were given. Then, out of nowhere, William hugged me and stated, "Thanks for the support Mom." My heart is bursting! Applesauce, that is.
As the summer began to fade and the crisp breeze of autumn rushed in, my mother-in-law and I chatted about her adventures in applesauce making. This chatting led to an agreement that we would get together before the holidays to make applesauce. Steve was able to score twenty-three pounds of apples from Barnard's Orchard in Unionville, PA. If you haven't been, this is an orchard worth visiting. Aside from freshly grown produce, they sell homemade goods as well; apple butter and apple crisp to name a few. Their selection is seasonal, ensuring that their goods are always the freshest. With the ease of her applesauce maker, we cranked out nearly twelve quarts of applesauce. Family tradition in the making xoxo Another fall weekend has come and gone, and another page was added to our memory books. Travel four hours northwest of Kennett Square, PA, you will come to a tiny town called Shunk, PA. The town of Shunk has a single stop sign, an old bus depot, a school room turned township building, and perhaps an auto shop. Blink and you miss it. Our dear friends Bill and Erin Shindle invited Steve, the boys, and I up for a weekend away. Mountains are near and dear to Steve's heart; in fact when purchasing our beach house several years back, we contemplated between the beach and the mountains. The beach won, but the mountains are still a comfortable and familiar place for us to be. Perhaps it was the weekends at ESU with Steve early in our relationship that kindled the love and admiration for the beautiful terrain of Pennsylvania. The weekend was spent enjoying the outdoors, but also doing several other things: Waking to a thick frost that blanketed the field behind the Shindle's Visiting Thrift shops in the small town of Canton, PA Wine tasting at Timber Ridge, where we purchased our first case of wine EVER Celebrating Halloween with a parade in Troy, PA followed by our first ever "Trunk or Treat" Cooking and enjoying a breakfast reminiscent of Christmas morning Pellet Gun shooting Spotting dear and shooting stars (yes, that is plural) Trying to discipline a child who still had remnants of his penciled on mustache from the night before Time with friends that mean so much William, our deep soulful thinker, can't wait to return. In fact, he mentioned he could see himself having a place in the mountains when he is older. He said, "Being able to explore the woods with my friend, holding our pellet guns and target shooting was a feeling I can't explain." I can't explain it either, but I do acknowledge that our sons are growing up and appreciating the earned independence they are experiencing. |
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AuthorTraci, a wife, mother of two boys, Special Education teacher, and sole proprietor of Eco Alternatives LLC. Archives
September 2021
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