Sometimes family is all you've got

Sunday dinner is almost always at my moms house. It's a tradition I never want to part with. I look forward every week to Sunday afternoons. I love my parents, their house, my mom's cooking, my siblings, sharing a meal as a family and spending time together. It's often the only time we are able to spend time with each other and the few hours together each week really are priceless.

Even when every single person at dinner has a bug up their butt.

It wasn't one of those peaceful Sunday dinners - we talked about temple divorces, suicide, family functions (in more ways than one - thanks Willie for always being willing to share!), Sunday meetings, burning and bleeding baby butts (sorry Chickie), appropriate terminology for those that use wheelchairs and political correctness for others with disabilities and a lot of other stuff, too.

A pretty typical Sunday evening actually, except it seemed that everyone was a bit on edge - even the babies. But, that's all okay. We're family. We are in it together until the end - whenever the end may come.

And - at the end of a Sunday dinner, when it's time to come home we all say our goodbyes and thank yous and I love yous.  Grandma sneaks a coke and more candy into the kiddos and off we go - in hopes that at some point,  all members of the party under three will go to bed.

Pardon my language, but it's damn hot outside!

I love my family.  The family that belongs to me - Ross and my boys, and the families that I get to be a part of.   And, though my kids won't have many cousins (it just isn't in the cards) I'm glad that they love the one they've got close to home, and the one they've got far away (Isaac - we're waiting for your visit!).