I live down the street from my parents. When we have family dinners or celebrate holidays, I usually load up a red wagon with food and/or gifts and the counselor and I walk down while my kids ride bikes or scooters. It’s always a bit nostalgic. I know I’m blessed. When I was a kid, I remember telling my mom “When I grow up, I’m going to live next door to you.” I love this street, with beautiful large trees and friendly neighbors.
For Christmas Eve this year, I made two ice cream pies, drizzled with caramel for added caloric enjoyment.
I warmed up a couple dozen egg rolls and cut up a watermelon. I should mention 2 of my sister-in-laws are pregnant, so hence, the eclectic dinner ideas (plus, my mom asked us all to bring our favorite finger food). My kids offered to help carry things down to my mom’s, but this year, I was going to need more than the red wagon to take all the food and gifts. Santa needs a sleigh, I needed a full-size pick up truck.
My brother-in-law stopped by early Christmas Eve with my nephews and offered to help with our deliveries. We loaded up gifts, big and small and he drove everything down to my parent's house.
After dinner, we all gathered in the living room. My nieces and nephews played the piano, sang songs and danced. They are all so sweet.
We started our gift exchanged and the beautiful chaos began.
I walked up to my mom and dad and said I had something I wanted to show them.
Out in the carport sat their gifts.
The best part is the desk and high boy French provincial pieces belonged to my Grandma Street, my mom's mom.
They were in pretty bad shape, so my brother Sam had brought them up to my house for me to work some magic. Now, they are restored a creamy heirloom white.
This little end table I found out thrifting and thought it would be a perfect match to my Grandma's set.
I think my Grandma would be happy with how they turned out.