i’m thankful that when i turned six, my mom threw me a gingerbread house making birthday party.
and not the kind of gingerbread houses you make out of cardboard milk cartons and graham crackers, either.
have you ever made gingerbread from scratch? it’s a pain. especially if you need it to be strong enough to support an entire gingerbread dwelling. and you have to cut out each section of the house perfectly sized and hope that when it bakes it won’t rise or stretch or get deformed. and have you ever considered doing something so labor-intensive so that a bunch of six year olds could make a mess out of your kitchen with colored frosting and sugar and totally not do justice to your beautifully labored pieces of gingerbread? that most of them would end up either broken or accidently eaten as a snack?
well, call her crazy, but my mom did this. and a mess we did make. and the houses were exactly what you’d expect out of a bunch of crazy six year olds.
but it is the most fun birthday party i remember to this day.
and when i think about it, i am just grateful that most everything my mom (or dad) did for me as a child, wasn’t necessarily because they thought i was going to be able to appreciate just how much work it took. or regret how terribly i would probably mess it up. but they just did things because they loved me and wanted to go all-out to make me feel special. they still do this. and i didn’t realize the extent of it when i was little, but looking back now, i really do.
they’ve taught me so much about the kind of parents i hope adam and i can be (someday).
if we ever have a kid born near christmas, i think i’ll do a gingerbread house party just so i can realize all over again how sweet my mother was. and feel the pains of her labor…and so that our (someday) kids will know we love them that much too.