Two years ago, I made a nutcracker for Monster. He got to pick out the colors and I painted it. This year, Sunshine is in a ballet production called How the Grinch Stole the Nutcracker. Never before was she interested in her brother's nutcracker, but one day, she suddenly needed a nutcracker of her own. Not just wanted, needed. She was obsessed. We went to Hobby Lobby here in town. They were sold out. She was heartbroken. She so desperately wanted a nutcracker, one that I made for her, because that would make it special. She then told me that I made one for her brother, but I've never made anything special for her. Wow, that was a painful statement to hear. She was right though. She has things handed down from my past that my mom has made. She has things other people have made, but she has nothing that I have made specifically for her. I needed to make this right. We checked JoAnn Fabrics in town with no luck, so I drove out to the next town with a Hobby Lobby. They had 4 left. You should have seen the joy on Sunshine's face. She was by far the happiest little girl ever. We then went to pick out colors for her nutcracker. She chose gold (I think because her brother's is gold), pink and shimmery purple. When we got it home, she could not wait for me to start it. Here is the completed project. I totally think I could make a career out of custom painting nutcrackers. And, if you read the post from when I made Monster's nutcracker, the cheeks on this one turned out much better.
Home is where the heart is. This phrase is true enough, but there is so much more to it. This morning, as I was surfing Pinterest, I found this article. I realized so much of it to be true. It adds so much more depth into "Home is where the heart is". I am so very fortunate to have parents who made my house growing up my home. It's still home. I know that I am always welcome there. I know how lucky I am to have this because I know many people who don't. Many people don't feel welcome in their childhood houses. Many people don't feel like they can just go and stop in whenever they want. Many people don't have that connection of "home" with their homes.
While growing up, you don't have the perspective you do when you are older. Home is just your house. You don't think too much of it. Of course there are always times, especially in the teen years, you don't want to go home. Your home feels like it is suffocating you. You feel like no one listens or cares. That's normal. The thing is, if your parents did a good job, you know that it is a place to which you can always return. No matter how bad things got, I knew that I could always go back.
My parents have lived in the same house my entire life, so I have no experience with a house not feeling like mine, but, I believe that when my parents move, their new house will also still feel like my home. The only difference may be that I may actually start calling it their house instead of mine. Yes, that's right, I still call my childhood house mine. It's not about the building itself. It's about the feeling. Reading this article this morning really made me think. My parents did every one of these things without knowing they did them. Am I also doing these? Am I making our house a home for our children? When they grow up, will our house still be their home even when they have houses of their own? I really hope so. I want my kids to get the same feeling when they walk in our front door, whether it be this particular house or another one, that I still get when I walk into my parents' house. It's a feeling that's hard to describe. The closest I can come is comfort. When I walk in my parents' front door, there is that smell. It's nothing anyone else would understand about their home when they walked in, but it just smells like home: fun and laughter, welcome, values, nurturing, refuge, connection, and love.
Where did the month go? I blinked and the first day of November is upon us...complete with near freezing temps. To be honest, this month was a blur. Good thing I take pictures. So here's a look back at October.