Once you're in, you're in

I waited with anticipation for their responses. I was prepared for a stern look, might have gotten a patronizing head shake, or worse, a tsk. After all, it's family time, it's the most wonderful time of the year, and it's practically sacred. Instead I got a "hell yeah!" in response to my gentle suggestion to the other moms that maybe it was time to change our annual holiday party to an adults only kind of event.

We've been having this holiday open house for years and years. It began about the time the kids started pre-school. I was feeling badly that we're so far from family, and wanted my kids to have some sense of tradition around the holidays. Sure we had our twice annual pilgrimage to church (see article: "Chreasters") and we made a special afternoon of driving to the Christmas tree farm to find just the right tree, Jacko always cooked a special dinner, and Santa always came - but it was still just the four of us and somehow that didn't seem big enough (of course now I know better). It was so different from how I grew up. I grew up with a very large extended family, all within about 1/2 hour drive of one another. I have oodles and oodles of cousins. I never had a babysitter who wasn't one of my cousins. When I was a kid, Christmas Eve dinner was with one set of grandparents, then Christmas brunch with everyone at our house, then Christmas dinner at my Nanny's with aunts and uncles and cousins, and before the night was over either we'd go visit other cousins or they'd come visit us and it was always a big, lively celebration.

My kids would have none of that. So we started having this holiday open house and inviting all of the kids' friends and their families, plus our friends and neighbors. The guest list grew exponentially each year as the kids grew and discovered new friends and new hobbies. Each year when I'd start planning for the next party, I would say to Jack "Maybe we should trim the list, maybe it's getting too big". As the kids friendships and interests ebbed and flowed, there would be some families we didn't even see throughout the year anymore, other than at our party. Did it make sense to keep inviting them? Did they even want to come? But in the end we decided year after year that "once you're in, you're in".

We went all out for the kids back then. While not extremely large itself, the layout of our home is (was) really conducive to large gatherings. Kids came in their Christmas finery, and there was cookie decorating and ornament making, and (because it's December in Texas) a moonwalk and inflatable slide out back. There was the visit from Santa (affectionately known among the adults as "drunk Santa" but still, he made an appearance). There was an abundance of food and libations (never one to skimp, as modeled by my folks) and everyone always had such a good time. This little tradition went on year after year.

Until middle school.

Seemingly overnight, our little cherubic angels got big. And smelly. Cookie decorating became food fighting, and ornament making took on a destructive edge. There was Christmas light unmantling. I'll never forget walking out to the backyard and seeing two of the teens at the top of the inflatable slide rocking it back and forth as if to knock it over - and there was a two year old up there with them.

And so it came to pass that I had this idea, which I presented gingerly and cautiously to the local mom crowd one fall night at a volleyball game and which was met with a resounding "it's about time!". For the past 5 years or so, our holiday open house invitations went to the adults only. Sorry kids, so much for your holiday tradition!

At 2009's party I shared my next great idea. Now that the kids were more mature, and a good number of them would be heading off to college in 2010, we would once again open our arms and home to them at holiday party 2011. I shared my visions of these kids, most of whom we have known since they were 4 or 5, returning to Austin and reconnecting at Christmas time. It would be wonderful. Of course just 12 days later, the fire came.

All of this was going through my mind as I finally took down the Christmas lights from our trees this past weekend while the wind rattled the big blue tarp covering the hole in the roof, and the smoky smell from inside our charred party palace continued to pervade the exterior. There are singed wreaths, ornaments, and other holiday decorations throughout the house and all around the property so it's hard to not think of Christmas when we're there.

I am most melancholy for my darling daughter, Aly, who is (in case you were not sure) the sweetest, most considerate, and simply best daughter in the world. This poor kid has to head off to college in the fall without a home. She's lost all of her "stuff" and is feeling as rudderless as the rest of us and she'll have to pack up and go off to college before the new house is ready. In fact, she'll probably barely see the framing before she goes. I think the transition will be tough for her. The rest of us will be here through the whole process and, good or bad, will be part of every decision. She'll head off to college homeless - first time away from home and without any of her mementos or comfort items - and (hopefully) return at Christmas to BOOM!, a new home. I really really really want to make that happen for her and hope we're settled and not still scrambling come December.

I want this to be the best holiday party ever. There is so much to celebrate! So many people to thank. I can't even imagine the size of the guest list this year. I might as well take out an ad in the local paper inviting everyone. We've been so blessed.

When our designer/architect friend Kimberly first met with us to share her ideas on the reconstruction she said "I want the house to reflect who you are and the feeling I get is that you are the type of people who open your arms to others and once they're in, they're in." I think she gets us.