After my brother and I each grew up, got married, and had children, every now and then, I would realize that the original four of us were standing together in the kitchen: Mom, Dad, me, and Chris.
“Hey! It’s The Original Four!” I’d announce.
The others took it calmly, as I recall, but to me it was a moment to throw ourselves back to the way our family once was.
And so I’ve carried on the tradition with my girls. They have fun with it and even use the expression when writing about family gatherings on their blogs.
According to psychologists, your family of origin is oh so important. Oh no!
Once my girls were grown, I began to do the mom thing: How did I screw up my kids? They seem completely fine, but what might I have done to cause deep damage or even a bit of damage?
During Thanksgiving of her Freshman year in college, Laura sat in the kitchen with her psychology textbook in front of her: “I realize now our family isn’t that crazy after all.”
And Kath, after making friends at her first job with a guy who had huge family problems, said, “I realize you and Dad are more normal parents than I used to think.”
Those statements lack the enthusiasm of a Hallmark Mother’s Day card, but I took them in!
This Christmas, with daughters, son-in-laws, another set of grandparents, and grandchildren in tow, we went to our old house. We wanted everyone to see the house fixed up for the market, and we wanted them to get to say goodbye.
As we left, one of my girls called out: “Let’s get The Original Four.”
We stood on the porch where we’d taken photos for 34 years. You can see it above: a final old house photo of The Original Four.
But wait. Look again.
There’s baby Birch, the latest addition to the family. That’s not The Original Four after all. A foil!
And what an adorable and welcome foil that baby is.
Rejoice that your family of origin is just that. Life moves on and brings us new family members: by marriage, by birth, by friendship.
And they each give a whole new meaning to the word “original.”