It is Friday late afternoon. For 28 years, my family has had Friday night pizza. That is a lot of pizza and a lot of memories. It began when Mike was in medical school. Many of those Friday nights it was just the three boys and me. We had all had a rough and long week of school and work. The true highlight of our week was ordering a large Pizza Hut pizza and a two-liter of soda. We got so excited when we heard the doorbell ring and knew it was our special delivery. Then we settled in the for the evening to eat our delicious pizza and watch TGIF. What a sweet, simple time that was.
Friday night is still special. We still order pizza. It’s tradition. In the moments that I feel like a mother failure or begin to wonder if all the work of making life special for those I love is worth it, I think about our traditions. We have some good ones; some birthday ones and Christmas ones and Easter ones and Valentine’s Day ones, some first day of school ones and our Friday night pizza one.They are important to create. They are important to continue. They are important to remember and to repeat, for generations to come. Like ours, they often begin very simply; a need to celebrate Friday and time together away from the world. Isn’t that how all good traditions should begin?