The Perfect Home

My friend Heidi lived only one house away, but each time I walked through her door it was like I had stepped into another world. Her family was always home and usually someone was visiting for the day. The fire was always going, keeping the house at the perfect temperature to curl up on the couch and take a nap. Her dad and brother were usually outside building something, stacking wood or had just gone to purchase materials for their next big project. You could find her mom hanging the clothes out to dry, cleaning, or baking something good to top off the big meal they would eat every night at the dinner table or if it was summertime, out on the porch. They had two dogs, two cats, two goldfish and daily chores and their homework was expected to be finished before any video games were played or TV was watched. It was the kind of home they made TV shows about. I cannot deny they were a family I sometimes wanted to be a part of.

I’m not saying my house was not home to me, because it most certainly was. It was just a different kind of home. It was the kind of home that seemed unoccupied most of the time. Our family time was spent in the car, driving to numerous baseball practices, hockey games, all of the far away tournaments that preceded each season and both sets of grandparents got their share of visits from us too. When we weren’t traveling as a family we were all off doing separate things. When my Dad was home from work, sometimes my Mom worked. Or if they were both home, they were usually doing different things to keep the house up and once in a great while, they might get a chance to enjoy themselves. Unless it was down pouring, when my brothers and I were all home, we were outside in the neighborhood, playing with our different groups of friends. Our cabinets were stocked with meals any five-year old could easily put together in two minutes. On Sundays though, my Mom would cook a nice hot meal and we’d all sit at the table together and devour it in twenty minutes or less. We were a busy family. My parents did everything they could, making ends meet, while managing to cart us around to the million activities we wanted to and did take part in. As a result, I feel like I was brought up to be well rounded. I was a ballerina and a tap dancer, a figure skater, a girl scout, a softball player, and a terrific colorer from the hundreds of hours I spent on the bleachers with my coloring books while my brothers played their sports. My parents made sacrifices so we could have fun. We got the chance to be children, which not everyone is fortunate enough to have growing up.

I hope the home we create for Caroline and all of the children I give birth to in the future is a perfect combination of the type of home I grew up in and the one I was a part-time member of. I want my children to have fond memories of the hundreds of cookies we all baked at Christmastime. I want them to learn the importance of pitching in to help keep the house clean so it is a comfortable and welcoming place. I want them to invite their friends over because they love being home. I also want them to be active. Coordination, socialization, teamwork, and learning that becoming good at something takes practice are just some of the many benefits sports and other activities taught me, not to mention learning how to have fun in the process. Perhaps most importantly though, I want them to value what they have. Everything I know about hard work, sacrifice, planning, and budgeting (without a word ever being spoken about money) I learned from watching my parents. They may not have had the hours of playtime with me that I would have liked so many days during my childhood. But even back then when I couldn't fully comprehend everything they did for my brothers and I, never did I question how much we were loved.