I give you sound learning, so do not forsake my teaching. For I too was a son to my father, still tender, and cherished by my mother. Then he taught me, and he said to me, “Take hold of my words with all your heart; keep my commands, and you will live. Proverbs 4:2-4 (NIV)
Last night was my annual “WHOO HOO MOM’S GOT THE HOUSE TO HERSELF NIGHT”. Well, for the rest of you it was the night of “Monster Jam.” Each year, the monster trucks assemble at Tampa Stadium for a night of “Monster Fun for all ages.” Hear that with a deep announcer’s voice reverberating from your television while imaging the images of big trucks flying over obstacles and jumping practically out of the screen. Every little boys fantasy come true and most big boys as well. My husband has a group of friends that have been together since High School. They sometimes worked at the same companies, but the bond stayed fast because for years they have gone to lunch together every Saturday. It is sacred. Unless you are working, ill or out of town, you go to lunch on Saturday. When I was first married, I found it a little disconcerting, but it was not until I became a mom left home on Saturday with the kid that I got annoyed. Husband and I had a deep, dark discussion about it and as soon as oldest son was reliably potty trained, he started going to lunch with Daddy and Daddy’s friends. It helped that Daddy’s friends also had little boys and their wives were irritated, too. That same posse set up the tradition that Daddies would take their sons to the Monster Jam. I really looked forward to the peace and quiet of an empty house. I read, watched television, and ate what I wanted when I wanted. And because “Monster Jam” traditions include breakfast at I HOP in the wee hours of the morning, I could go to bed when I wanted to with no noise or lights on any where. Oh, how rejuvenating that one night was for so many years. Now that my nest is emptying, last night’s “Monster Jam,” was not as significant, and because I have been entertaining my little Guatemalan souvenirs, “misery and plague,” I didn’t do too much other than watch a little television and go to bed early. I didn’t even eat my annual white meal of chicken pot pie, Stouffer’s Corn Soufflé and Cinnamon Apples. It didn’t seem appealing, and I settled for some vegetable beef soup I had made earlier in the week. Still and all, the night held many fond memories for me as I remembered those excited preschoolers all bundled up for a night on the town with Daddy. Even now as young men, they enjoy the experience. Oldest son called from far off Colorado to say he was missing it. This morning, husband was complaining about the weather last night which was a soaking rain, but he said, “It doesn’t matter, what matters is the tradition. You have to keep the tradition going.” This year, there were three generations at the “Monster Jam” as some of the men now have grandchildren. Yes, honey, you keep that tradition going, and turn the light off when you get home!