Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Christmas traditions

Hello my name is Jsackmom and I’m a “Christmasholic” There I finally admitted it, I get very excited about the prospect of celebrating as I’ve always been fascinated with the magic of Christmas. I remember traditions from when I was a little girl and being at my Grandparents with their ceramic tree with plastics lights all lit up. 
It would sit on the china cabinet looking so tiny but beautiful, while I sat on the floor looking up at those lights twinkling in the evening glow. We would help my Mom and Gram prepare for dinner and get our pyjamas on then my sister and I would get our snack ready for Santa with our Mom’s help. We would put out the homemade shortbread cookies, carrots for the reindeer, and a cup of nice tea to wash it down with. My Gram would help us hang our stockings on the towel rod in the kitchen while my Grandpa looked on with a mischievous smile.
 You see those stockings were his socks that he loaned to my sister and I. Next we would go off to the living room and magically there would a present there on the floor for each of us. We would open it up knowing each year it would be the same, pyjamas, slippers, or a house coat. We didn’t care though it was the excitement of getting to open a gift on Christmas Eve that made the holiday more special. 
We would sit on the couch in our new sleepwear and sip on our hot chocolates while we sang Christmas carols and then my Mom and Gram would tell us the Christmas story of baby Jesus and the Nativity. I had always loved the story and still tell it to my children as our tradition. Then we would get sleepy, rubbing our eyes, and toddle off to bed. My sister would have the couch and I would have the blue cot that folded out. My Gram would push the coffee table up close do I wouldn’t roll out of bed. 
Sleep would find me late into night as the visions of sugar plums, turkey with all the trimmings, and toys to be had, would dance in my head. The next morning I would be bouncing around waking up my sister as I was delirious with excitement and more of a tough and tumble Tom girl than sliver bells and cockleshells and we would race to the kitchen to open our stockings. We would dig in and find candy, nuts, mandarin oranges, tiny little doll toys, and whatever else Santa could stuff in a men’s sock! 
Next we would go to the living room and see what else Santa brought us. There would be a Barbie for my sister and I would have a doll complete with accessories of a hair brush, bottle, and outfit. We would also open clothes, books, more candy, and always a religious item of a holy statue. My Mom always made sure we put the Christ in Christmas as to never forget the true meaning of the holiday. 
We would say Grace and have a hearty breakfast as we would go off to our relatives to visit and play with our toys with our cousin. We would always have baking, copious pots of tea, and plenty of singing and dishwashing. We would return back to my Grandparents while my Grandpa would shovel the sidewalk and make his strong coffee in his special pipe whistle cup afterwards. We would help in the kitchen preparing dinner as my four other siblings would join the festivities. My Gram and Mom would fill the coffee table full of appetizers, fruit cake, cookies, a mixture of nuts, hard candy, and liquorice. 
The teapot would never be empty long and we would start preparing to set the table while setting up in the living room with my Gram’s fine Christmas China that would be laid out on the table. There would be at least ten people there and my Gram would say the blessings and my Grandpa would carve the turkey. I would marvel at all the delicious food and watch one of my brothers say “pass the buns” while my other brother would throw him down one at the end of the table. I would laugh and have my bowl of tossed salad mixed with croutons and olive oil. I loved how my Gram would make that for me. 
My plate would be heaping with mounds of mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, Brussels sprouts, veggies, dark turkey meat, a little gravy, and I would eat my weight in my Gram’s homemade stuffing. After we would clear the table, drink tea, and enjoy pumpkin and lemon meringue pies. My Mom loved the lemon so it was always a staple at the dinner table. After us kids would go out to the foyer and play and have our pictures taken on the steps to the upper floor in the apartment building. 
Then the night would wind down, my older siblings would leave for home, and my sister and I would be getting ready for bed in our new Christmas pyjamas. We would lay there as sleep would come quickly after a fulfilling and wonderful day. We would fill that tiny two bedroom apartment with presents, laughter, decorations, Santa with his sleigh full of toys, and most of all the presence of our love for each other. As we got older and Santa came to the houses of younger children we would go to midnight mass with my Mom and Gram.
 I remember seeing the church’s alter glowing with all the lights. I would listen to the priest speak of that first Christmas Eve when baby Jesus was born in Bethlehem. Then the choir would rise up in voices of pure love and sing O little town of Bethlehem. My voice would ring out with them feeling exalted on high like nothing could touch me, as my spirit was raised to the heavens. I wept in those moments as my earthly vibration would thunder through my body like I was floating. There was magic in the air on that night and I’ve never felt more loved or connected to God, Saints, and all his angels. Being raised that way was a gift, and one I will continue with my children as they grow in the love and spirit of Christmas. To think it all started with that one little ceramic tree perched up high. 

Stock photo provided by the internet

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#Mondaymusings-Tales of my Childhood

Monday Musings-Tales of my Childhood

I write a lot of my thoughts, feelings, and passions. I was a little girl with a big heart and an even bigger imagination. I remember stories my Gram would tell me about her family. Her parents that were born in Ireland and Scotland who survived hardships of the Potato famine of 1846 and found their new life in Canada. 
Her close knit family came over by boat to forage a new beginning with two little girls and then my Gram was born almost a month after the town they lived in burnt down! They suffered a fire, flood, loss, and still remained strong together. Music was a very special outlet for their healing as whole family. The church and hymns sung around the house, and in the parlour after dinner sustained them. It gave them faith to overcome whatever trial they had encountered. 
One song that was so special to my family is Danny Boy. My Gram’s only brother had a beautiful heart and and even more beautiful voice. He loved his church as equally as he loved the church. He had survived the First World War and came back to support his family. He was set to have the solo for Danny Boy on the night of the St. Patrick’s day. He had been sickly but he wanted to honour his commitment to his choir. 
Being he was too ill to leave his bed he wasn’t able to. With his family surrounding him he sat up and sang one last time for them. Then he lay down, closed his eyes, and went to meet God. My Gram would tell me this story and her eyes would well up with tears. The pain of losing her brother in his late twenties was something she never healed from. 
When I expressed my love of all things Irish she taught me the song. I would sing it for her, my Grandpa, and my Mom. They would sing quietly along with tears in their eyes. My Gram would hug me so tight and say I made her brother proud. Every story she told of my hard working Great Grandparents made me feel connected with them. She brought their travels and tales to live for me. 
This is a tradition that still continues onto this day as I share these stories with my own children. I tend to gravitate to playing Irish characters in my theatre experience. My kids still ask me to speak in an Irish accent and they just love it. Every time I entertain them with a song or a jig I can hear my Gram giggling. I only hope my rendition does her and our Irish clan proud as all my memories are of them. 
s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 
Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

Today’s Write Tribe’s co-hosts are Crazy Little Family Adventure and Vinithia Dileep please be sure to check out all the talent that link up. Thank you. ❤️

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To my love on his birthday 

Today is a special day it’s my husband’s birthday! I know this day is very special to me, because he was born to become my love, and my life. I’ve known my husband for a long time, as he went to school with my sister. I’ve wrote about our love story here, but today I write about why I love him so much. 

You can really discover a lot about a person when you’ve known them for thirty years. Yes that’s 3-0, three decades of crushing on him and his smile that still makes the butterflies float in my tummy. My belly that housed our precious son’s and my body that nourished them through nearly 10 years of marriage. This love of mine has never wavered, for as long as I’ve known him I wanted to be his one and only. 

 

 Now he slumbers peacefully as I’m too excited to sleep and need to write this. I adore him so much, when others saw a little punk kid trying to look grown up; he saw the real me batting my blue eyes. I only told my Mom and Gram of my crush on him. I wouldn’t even tell my sister for fear I might get teased. If you have an older sibling you know what I’m writing about. 
My Mom and Gram would never tell my secret and I never would tell my love either. Well, until many years ago when after a few drinks shared I couldn’t contain my enthusiasm for the truth! I was only 12 when we met that fateful and happy day at a hockey game. He was 17 playing hockey and ready to graduate. I didn’t care though I saw him and he captured my interest and my heart. 

It didn’t matter what our age difference was I believed if it was meant to be it would. He moved away right after graduation but I kept tabs on him through mutual friends. Then I found out he moved away to another province and I moved there as well before graduation. I tried to find him but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Then I moved back to my hometown to cure myself from my homesickness and graduate with my friends. 

I found out through my cousin that my love had moved back too! I kept a low profile as I was preparing for exams. I still had an interest in seeing him after all those years. I had done some growing up of my own and I wasn’t that kid sister anymore. Then as fate would have it he literally walked back into my life. It was at a friend’s birthday party and I was bouncing and battening  and making sure my friend’s apartment wasn’t getting trashed. Then I see him and all my care taking and “Mother henning behaviour flew out the window! My heart was captured once again and this time I wasn’t letting this prize winning catch go. We stayed up the rest of the night talking, laughing, and yes even sobering up. 

He had to go to work the next day and I had to clean up after the party. We parted ways but we’re content on seeing each other again. Back to school and reality, and phone numbers exchanged and no phone calls were made. Well I did some serious thinking and praying and a week later I called him. I was excited and nervous so I made the date to meet some friends at the theatre. 

That date was a lifetime ago and I still remember it like it was yesterday. What I wore, the smell of his cologne, and the movie we watched. My mind and my heart will never forget that first tender, soft, kiss that left me with all the romantic stereotypes. Weak in the knees, butterflies, and breathless and wanting more! That’s what happens when two energies collide, pure pulsating magic. 

  
It wasn’t always easy as there were naysayers on both sides of the coin that said we would never last. And here we are outlasting a lot of those marriages that came to be before ours. I still remember the best compliment we ever received was from my husband’s aunt. 

“I would never know you were together for a long time. It’s like you both just met and have fallen in love and it’s a privilege to witness that.”

I will never forget that compliment nor the 200 people who came out to celebrate on our wedding day. To my husband, my heart, twin soul, and lover for life. Happy birthday and  thank you for blessing mine and our sweet son’s life with your love. You are loved, respected, and appreciated and are our gift to have everyday. ❤️ 

  


 

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Ten Things of thankful 

  
It’s my favourite time of the week to link up for Lizzi’s TTOT blog hop. I’m so happy I’m able to participate as I had some WordPress app issues and my post kept getting “eaten” or not being able to upload pictures. Frustrating to say the least, but all is well and I’m back baby! 😉
1. I’m thankful for being able to admit my pain was a heavy burden and I reached out to friends. I was received with so much love, warmth, and kindness I had wished I had done it sooner. 

2. I’m thankful for memories I have of my beloved friend that passed away recently. Even though I’ve  experienced grief so thick it’s felt like quicksand, I have loving memories to hold onto to, and a connection with her family. ❤️

3. I’m thankful I’ve been brave and ventured out of my comfort zone and made some new wonderful friends. It started out as a mystery friend in a Facebook group where I got to spend the last 3 months corresponding with her through cards, letters, and little gifts. The best part was I was a mystery to her and I made my big reveal a week ago. We exchanged texts and met up the next day. We found out we only live less than an hour away from each other. 😃

3. I’m thankful I have a beautiful home, a hard working husband, and really amazing children. They have loved me through my pain, tears, and grief with their love, laughter, and smiles. ❤️

4. I’m thankful that the weather has changed and warmer days and nights are upon us. I was able to get some yard work and some planting done while enjoying the sun. 

5. I’m thankful for when I’m feeling lonely I just have to reach out and someone will be there. Whether that’s online, in person, or at the end of my phone. There’s comfort in knowing that when I feel really sad and out of sorts. 

6. I’m thankful for my family for without them I wouldn’t feel strong enough to keep fighting through my struggles. They lift me up on angel wings when I forget how to fly. 

7. I’m thankful for the sound of my children’s laughter. Hearing it as it wraps our home echoing in happiness and intensity, is like music to my ears. 

8. I’m thankful for the people I have in my life filling it with love, laughter, support, and understanding. You all fill my nightly and daily prayers with gratitude for being a part of my happiness. 

9. I’m thankful for old friendships being renewed again. I spent 2 1/2 hours on the phone last night catching up with a childhood friend I’ve known and loved for 30 years. We have recently moved closer to one another in the last year, and I’m so excited for our family’s to connect. 😃

10. I’m thankful for all you dear readers that come here each week to read my stories and comment and appreciate what I have to say. You make this the best part of my day, next to cuddles with my family. Thank you so much for filling my love bucket to the brim. ❤️

This has been my submission to   Lizzi’s TTOT I’m so thankful for wonderful her and her tribe that have welcomed me into not just a blog hop but a new way of thinking and appreciating everything in my life. 😃🌟

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