Homeward bound

I'm headed home this afternoon, and this is one of the first things I'll see:



Aren't those stockings beautiful? My mother sewed (and embroidered) them with her own two hands. They've hung in the same place, on the same wall, my entire life and I love them.

Across from the stockings, right between the window and the door, we have this crazy clock:



It's funny enough that my mom's Mickey clock is the clock in the living room. (You know, the "nice" room that we reserve for company.) But at Christmas, Mickey steps it up a notch and wears a Santa hat. All the ornaments around him are cut-outs of pictures of us cute kiddos at Christmastime throughout the years.

The wall to the right of the wall covered in stockings is what we lovingly refer to as The Wall of Christmas Pix:



Isn't that great? Those are 5x7 frames full of pictures of the eight of us (my parents and all six kids) at varying ages and stages at Christmas-time. There are over 30 pictures in all, and I love them, because every single picture is a memory.

Just to the left of The Wall of Christmas Pix is the freezer. On top of the freezer are the Milk Dud boxes:



I don't even know how old these little guys are. ... They're older than me, this I know. They may be from before my parents were married, even. I don't even know. But how cute are they? I love them!

As you walk into the kitchen, this is the view:



Every cupboard (every space, really) is covered with a decoration. Some of them, my mom made the first year my parents were married. Some of them, Spencer made in high school art. Some of them have babies' scribbles on them. They are all familiar. I love my mom's kitchen, all the time, but at Christmas? I love it even more!

I wish I could show you every room in the house. I'm not kidding when I tell people that our house is a little Griswold-esque. And this would be why:



This is the woman behind the madness that is a Christmas decoration on every cupboard, the mother who lovingly sewed our stockings and photographically documented every moment of our childhoods. She is exactly the kind of gal who'd make herself an electric vest out of paper bags, Christmas lights and masking tape and then plug herself in and go to a party.

She is my mom. She made everything fun when I was little. She continues to make everything fun now that I am big. Christmas is Christmas, wherever I am, but it's a whole heck of a lot more fun when I am with her than it is when I am not. And today, I am homeward bound. Let the good times (and memories) begin!