'Home' Is The Nicest Word There Is

There are two known truths about me. Well, maybe more, but there are two about which I feel inclined to write. One, I love the show Little House on the Prairie. And two, I love the holidays. It was just recently that I thought about why these two seemingly unrelated things seem to strike the same chord in my heart.

The main character on LHP, Laura, who is affectionately referred to as "Half-Pint" by her Pa, is a small but tough-minded little girl, who narrates the earlier shows by reading from her journal, her "remembrance book" she started when the family moved from their home in the "big woods." I was always fascinated with how warm and loving the family members were to one another. At the end of the day, no matter what journey or hardship was endured, everyone was home in that little house, around the fire or the kitchen table, sharing a meal and a story of the day's events. Call me old-fashioned, but that just sounds nice to me.

Of course, any episode surrounding the holidays, tugged at my heart even more. I think I have seen the original Christmas episode, well, I literally couldn't count and there is no use trying. Every time though, I cry at the same points in the show. I know they're coming; I tell myself not to; but I just can't keep the tears tucked away when Laura smiles her toothy grin as Mr. Edwards gives her Ma a half dozen sweet potatoes for Christmas. "What a treat," Ma gushes while she chokes back a cry. Call me crazy, but wouldn't it be nice if we could all get excited about someone giving us something as simple as sweet potatoes?

Seriously, the things we take for granted. And that is why I love the holidays. For a few months out of the year, everyone has her priorities straight. Every one's heart is in the right place. We all go home, whether that be with family or friends who we consider family, and we cherish each other, our traditions, our homes.

My holiday traditions start on Labor Day weekend with all of the Fall decorations adorning the doors, tables, mantel and other corners of my house. You won't come over to my home without feeling invited in by the scent of simmering mulling spices.

This year has already been a fantastic Fall because Emerson is old enough to know what is happening and to communicate with me. She loves pumpkins, and boy, do we have enough around the house to make her day. Ask her, "where is the pumpkin," and she will point to every pumpkin in the house; needless to say, it takes a while. Last week, when she was walking around the house showing me the pumpkins, I just had to smile, and well, maybe a little tear came to my eye too. I realized that my love for the holidays and bringing the warmth of them into our home was rubbing off on her in its own little way, and I heard Half-Pint's voice say, "home is the nicest word there is."

Amen.

H-O-T

Being a Mom is so many things.
Two nights ago, it was rewarding.
Emerson has said a dozen or so words now.
I may hear a word like, "apple" a few times and then not hear her say it for weeks.
That's OK by me; apparently, this is a normal learning pattern.
The other night though, Jason got to hear her say a new word.
I was cooking dinner, and like most nights, Emerson got very curious about what I was doing in the kitchen. She walked to me and threw her arms up in the air. I obliged.
While I was holding her with one one arm and stirring the dish with another, I thought to myself that this was a great opportunity to teach her someting new. So, I pointed to the stove and said, "hot." I repeated it several times and said, "Emerson, when Mommy is cooking on the stove it is hot." She looked at me and said...you guessed it, "hot."
Jason looked up from watching the game on TV and smiled at me.
Hot was the word of the night from then on!