I watched the Oprah show this week when the Osmond family was on. It was heartwarming and fun, and their family is amazing. They are before my time, so I knew of them, but of course didn't participate in any of the adoration and Osmond-mania that has followed them by their loyal fans for decades. I was touched to see their posterity gather and especially moved when I saw the 6 brothers singing with Marie on stage.
This got me feeling sentimental about my parents and the posterity they started. Growing up we had a lot of music in our home. Some of my fondest memories were spent singing together on family night, at Christmas time, or in the car on trips here or there. I love music and how it has such power to uplift our hearts and bring joy in the room. I have such admiration for my brothers and have many fun memories with them.
Going to church on Sunday was definitely rowdy. We took up pretty much an entire bench and what I remember most is brothers (okay I wasn't innocent and definitely contributed to said rowdiness) playing bloody knuckles,(I didn't participate in THAT) thumb wars, pinching each other, and good old fashioned "punched ya last" - of course this was all done inconspicuously low in our laps out of the view of most other benches. We were always amazed later to hear people telling our parents how they just can't believe how well behaved their 7 children were during Sacrament meeting. Because my parents were always mortified that we were so obnoxious in their immediate vicinity despite their weekly talks to us about appropriate behavior and reverence expected in the appropriate places. Every week my Dad would finally stoop to what we all stoop to at some time or another as parents - blatant bribery.
"If you guys would just be good for the rest of Sacrament meeting, (he would whisper, and then it would be shared through the grape vine) I'll make snicker doodles when we get home!"
This would motivate us for another 5, 10, 15 minutes for as long as our respective attention spans would allow before the bloody knuckles would recommence, but Dad being the softy, and treat lover that he is would always cave, and we made ourselves sick off of delicious snicker doodles most Sundays. He wasn't home very much, and in fact worked 2 jobs most of my life. He has often expressed sadness about how much he missed of us growing up and how he can't believe we have grown, but he definitely knew how to make the time he did have with us very memorable! My dad is not the master of organization however and would completely demolish our entire kitchen in the baking process, and then be too sick from cookies to clean it up afterwards. He drove my poor mother crazy each week!
I attribute my love of baking yummy comfort food to my own home environment, and the many memories I have from holidays and all those fun Sunday afternoons spent baking together. And I think of my parents quite often most Sundays after church, when we are gathered in our own kitchen, baking our own version of "if you can just be good through sacrament meeting..." But we make Chocolate Chip cookies.
Thanks Mom and Dad for loving us and creating such wonderful memories. We love you!