Because

I just locked myself in the bathroom for about 20 minutes to bawl my eyes out. Because I somehow got caught on the wrong side of friend politics with one of my oldest and closest friends. Because I’m totally overwhelmed by life in general right now. Because I am hormonal. Because I’m facing a summer with no money with which to entertain my children and to be frank, I’m just not that creative. Because I just want one thing to go our way, and it’s not. Because my dad is dying. Because my son is struggling mightily with growing up and I don’t know how to help him. Because my daughter is sweet and amazing and I just cannot keep up with her right now and thus the guilt is nearly overwhelming. Because I haven’t had a day off in longer than is healthy for me. Because I miss my friends and I’m not entirely sure they miss me back (although that might be the hormones talking). Because the fucking wind will not stop. Because I can’t seem to stay on top of laundry. Because we didn’t get to plant flowers on Mother’s Day this year because of lack of money and the weather won’t settle into spring. Because our lawyer has turned into a jackass. Because I desperately want to ask my in laws to please come for a visit just to have fun and get to know their grandchildren and I’m terrified to ask because I couldn’t handle it if they say no, but I miss them. Because I’m tired and the sleepless nights have already started. Because I’m in a cooking rut I can’t seem to find my way out of. Because we got invited to a fancy party on Sunday night and I don’t have anything fancy to wear and no one to watch my children so they have to come with us to this party where there will probably be no other children and they also don’t have anything fancy to wear. Because my neighbor across the street is moving and I’m going to miss her and her children. Because, because, because, because…I guess I just needed a good cry.

4/19/10 - Parenting Hackles

I’ve read a couple of articles this week that have my parenting hackles way up.

One article is about raising daughters and how to handle the issues of body image. I think what has me so upset about it is the fact that the article does not even recognize that boys have extreme body image issues as well. And as a mother raising a son and a daughter I’ve got it from both sides. With both kids it’s a double whammy. Because I’ve got to figure out how to help them foster their own positive body image as well as how to support the people, regardless of gender, that they have in their lives. They both have to learn how to see people as they want to be seen – as the kind, compassionate, creative, intelligent, amazing people they are.

One article is about bullying. And this is an issue that is a tremendously loaded for me. I survived an abusive relationship while in high school and vowed to never again allow another human being treat me as anything less than what I felt I deserved. And that is also a very high priority for me to teach my children. Which is why this article pisses me off so much. Because essentially it’s saying that you should expect your child, regardless of age or gender, to be able to handle it themselves and that you should “praise them for suffering well.” If that fails to remedy the situation, then you could intercede on their behalf. I’m sorry, but are you frigging kidding me?!? There is no part of that that is acceptable to me. I will not accept my children facing bullies alone. And I sure as hell won’t accept teaching them to suffer well. I’m raising people, not martyrs here.

The root of both issues is self confidence. On every imaginable level. Honestly I don’t think I know anyone who has utter confidence on every level. So I’m setting a tall order for myself to be able to impart that to my children. But if I could just help them to see themselves as I do, I think we’ll be heading in the right direction.

Strawberry Pie

My Dad used to take me back to Nebraska to visit family almost every summer. Then when I was old enough, my parents would put me on a plane to go for a longer visit by myself. It was something I really looked forward to every year. My cousin M and I would lie in the sun on the grass outside my grandma’s apartment (read: get burnt to a crisp and eaten alive by chiggers). We’d walk along the railroad tracks talking about life in the big city and small town. We’d go swimming at the little town pool. We’d use our entire summer allowance to buy an obscene amount of fireworks. We’d use whatever was left over for candy and ice cream. We’d hop from aunt’s house to aunt’s house for BBQ’s and family get-togethers. We’d always make at least one shopping trip into Lincoln that would end with dinner at Valentino’s (they had dessert pizza!). We’d make one longer pilgrimage to Omaha to see Aunt S and do more shopping. It was always a trip full of fun activities and me being a big city girl, exploring small town life and being absolutely enthralled with it (although not always well versed in the do’s and don’ts of small town life, like the time when my grandmother completely blew a gasket over me sitting on the curb on main street watching the teenagers cruise on a Friday night – how was I to know it wasn’t lady like?).

But one of my most favorite memories is that my grandma always, always made me strawberry pie. She knew it was my favorite and she always made sure she had a pie waiting for me upon my arrival. And I’ve been searching for the perfect strawberry pie recipe ever since, without success. But recently my Aunt J sent me several strawberry pie recipes that she found in my grandma’s recipes, so I’m trying the one that sounds like I remember tasting today and I cannot wait.

I cannot wait to see the looks on my children’s faces upon their first bite. And I cannot wait for the flood of memories that will come with my first bite.

3/29/10 - Caretaker

I’m a caretaker. I always have been. For as long as I can remember I am always the first to wonder if someone is ok if I see them hurting, no matter if I know them or not. I latch onto babies because I know that they need to be taken care of. I’m just a care taker. Which is a good thing considering the rigors my children have put me through. If I weren’t a natural born care taker, they’d be hurtin’ kiddos right about now. There was a part of me that thought once upon a time that being a caretaker made me weak in some way. That the act of caretaking surrendered my power to the person I was taking care of; that by putting myself at their disposal that I was somehow expressing codependence instead of the inherent strength it takes to honestly put someone else before yourself.

Now I know that was all bullshit of course. I embrace my caretaking abilities on a daily basis. And it turns out to be an extraordinarily good thing when you have one parent have a massive heart attack one day, move in with you to recuperate for 3 weeks another day and then six months later have the other parent diagnosed with end stage lung cancer.

So here I am, taking care of my Dad. By cooking all of his favorite food for him while he still has an appetite and wants to eat. By doing things around the house to make his life easier. By helping to keep track of meds and new symptoms to tell the hospice nurse. All of these everyday things that seem so simple but are the best way I know how to take care of him right now. Because all of these things still allow me to be his daughter whilst doing them. Despite my caretaking proclivities, I have no desire to morph into a full time nurse to my father. I just want to be his daughter. Love him as his daughter. Support him as his daughter. It’s a delicate balance to strike to be sure. But I hope I’m at least in its general vicinity.

3/27/10 - Grocery Store Madness

Grocery shopping. On a Saturday. It’s just something I would ever recommend. Growing up, we went to the grocery store every Sunday morning like clockwork. We went relatively early so that we always got the best selection of doughnuts and rolls in the bakery and so that we were home in time to get everything put away and have time to sit and watch Dr. Who. It was an unbreakable routine and one of my most vivid childhood memories. I thought for a while that I’d like to re-create that with my own kids on the weekend. But then I find myself in the grocery store on a Saturday or Sunday and I remember why I abandoned that particular idea so long ago. It’s madness. Sheer and utter madness to take two children into the grocery store on a Saturday.

On the weekdays, people are still people in the grocery store. They say “excuse me” they smile when you pass them in especially tight aisles. They help you reach something if you need it. But on the weekends? Those same people turn into steel plated automatons in pursuit of one thing and one thing only – completing their list so as to get the hell out of the grocery store and but quick. It seems like the only facial expressions they are capable of are those that make my children cower and make me want to deck them for being flat rude to two over rambunctious but well meaning children. And I’m sorry, but there’s no Safeway in the world that makes doughnuts good enough to weather that on a regular basis.

No, I think I’ll stick to my well established routine of going grocery shopping in the middle of the week. Even though the store seems to run on a seriously reduced staff forcing me to walk its entirety should I have a question. Even though I often have to push my full cart into the only open checker which happens to be an “Express Lane.” Yep, I’ll take a bit of wincing at having well over 15 items to save myself from the steely glare of those in search of paper thin sliced turkey.

3/14/10 - Daylight Savings Time

I despise daylight savings time. Truly abhor it. It was easier to sort of ignore its existence when I was younger or even just before I had kids. Now however, it totally screws up everything. Does it make it a bit easier for the kids when it occurs on a weekend (does it always occur on a weekend?). But it seriously messes with me. Because weekends are when I get to sleep in. So I let myself stay up later. Especially when I’m totally sucked into a book and I just do not want to put it down, thinking I’ve got another hour or so to read before it’s just too late because I’m pregnant and always tired anyway. And then I remember that because of the time change, it’s actually already too late and I need to get my happy ass to bed. So yeah, I stayed up too late, way too late. In fact I fell asleep on the couch, awoke at 3am and after peeling my drool pasted cheek from the pages of said book, wondered why I wasn’t in my bed.

All of this with me thinking, well it is Saturday night. Even if I do stay up too late, I’ll be able to sleep in tomorrow and catch up. Except for frigging daylight savings time stole an hour from me. Forcing me to get up well before I was ready because it’s just not decent for a mother of two to still be in bed at 10am (especially when it’s actually 11am). The Boy looked at me like I was on crack when 7pm rolled around and I said it was time for bed because his internal clock ain’t no dummy and told him it was too early to go to sleep.

I mean, yes, we get more light in the afternoons. But I find it far more depressing to wake up when it’s still dark than I do to be eating dinner in the dark. I know that will change in a couple of months, but I’d rather just let time alone and have light when we have it than do this time tug-of-war every fall and spring. Seriously.

3/12/10 - Watch Duty

My husband took the day off today to spend some time with us before we leave for a month or so and it turned into an incredibly busy day. I took the opportunity for some alone time to go get my prenatal lab work done without having to juggle children whilst peeing in a cup or having needles stuck in me. Then we headed to Pueblo to see a dear friend who just started work at the main library up there and get some books and audio books for the trip. I’m here to tell you that the Rawlings Library in Pueblo is far superior to all of the Pikes Peak Libraries combined. Their kid section is amazing both in books and activities and the general layout of the place is just lovely. So since it’s only about 10 minutes further than the big downtown library in Colorado Springs (which is lame) we’ll be going there for now on. Plus whenever we go there, I get to see M! That right there makes it all worth it.

So we are now equipped with new books all around and I got us Eragon by Christopher Paolini to listen to in the car. It will be a bit on the old side for The Girl, but it’s all about dragons, so I think she’ll still dig it and it’s a book I’ll even want to listen to, so hopefully when we’re actually able to leave, it will make the trip to NM feel much shorter.

And all I want to do right now is eat. It’s just crazy. I have never been this continuously hungry in my entire life. I never thought I would say that I was tired of eating, but I really, really am. Mostly I think I’m so tired of it because even though I’m having monolithic sized cravings, nothing actually tastes good when I put it in my mouth. I do one or two bites and then I want to vomit. So mostly, I’m just hungry. All. The. Time. Which tends to set you on edge just a wee bit.

So I’m on weather, sickness and food watch presently. I know, you’re jealous.

2/28/10 - A Little of This and That

I’m making myself get into a semi-upright position to write this today. I think that’s about all I can muster though. It seems like I’m doing pretty good through the weekdays. Because I know that I have no choice. I have to be on the ball and on time because I have no backup and no time to just check out. But on the weekends? That’s a different story. The past two weeks, I’ve just totally checked out come Saturday. I figure if that's the worst of it, that I foist upon my family, having me disappear a bit on the weekends, then I’m doing pretty good.

Yesterday, I took a three hour nap. I never take naps. Today I found a Karate Kid marathon and I’ve glued myself to the couch to watch every single moment of it. I wish it was on just about any other channel than ABC Family so that I didn’t have to watch commercials for the silly tween shows they are so proud of.

On a non-TV note, I’m about ¾ of the way through Anansi Boys by Neil Gaiman and I love it. His writing reminds me a bit of Christopher Moore, only not quite as verbose and colorful. Although I think I’ve discovered that I should have read American Gods first, but oh well. I still need to finish Dandelion Wine as well; I got a bit distracted and needed something slightly less brain intensive for the moment. But I’ll get back to it.

And I still haven’t finished my story for last week. I’ve got to get on that sucker; it’s starting to haunt me now. Actually it’s not. That’s the problem.

My dad is about the same as yesterday. My mom said he had another spell of not being able to breathe, but it wasn’t as bad as the one on Thursday night. They are going to start having someone from hospice come out almost daily. Alternating days between an aide and a nurse to help out around the house as well as to keep tabs on his health. Thank goodness, but I still think we’ll be heading down there in the next weather window.

All you Need is Love

I got to spend some time with my dearest L this morning. The Girl and her youngest go to the same preschool so we occasionally are able to use our morning free time to just hang out and chat over a cup of coffee. With my self-isolation and unpleasant to be around anger as of late, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to hang out. It was much needed and really lovely.

L is an international adoption social worker and if there was ever a person better suited to her work, I don’t know who they are. She is a deeply intuitive person who is easy to trust, easy to talk to and truly enjoys her work. I just adore her and she is an incredibly important part of my life.

And she’s having a hard time right now. One of her families had a complete meltdown and after bringing home this gorgeous girl from Korea decided that they could not be her forever family after all. So L and her husband agreed to provide temporary foster care for this sweet baby girl until the adoption agency could meet with other families who are waiting for children to which to give homes. I got to meet this baby girl this morning and I loved her immediately. And so does L. It is such a tremendously hard thing to bring a baby into your home who needs nothing but love from you and not fall in love with her.

The situation all around is just so heartbreaking. The family who were originally going to adopt her are heartbroken that they’ve failed this sweet girl. L is heartbroken for not seeing the lack of commitment in this family sooner in the process. And this sweet girl’s heart is broken for not having a forever family yet. It is just a truly agonizing situation for everyone involved. But of course, L, being the amazing woman that she is, is just completely focused on showering this baby with the love that she needs.

It was such a lovely morning to sit with a gorgeous friend and just love her and this baby girl with everything I have.

In Defense of Nest

My college roommate picked a fight with a bunch of moms on Facebook today. Which actually turned out to be a jumping off point for she and I to spend an embarrassing large chunk of time first IM’ing and then talking on the phone about the whole thing. It’s a really huge parenting can of worms. Or at least it’s been turned into a huge can of worms for modern day parents. I don’t remember it being all that big of a deal for my parents when I was a kid.

It’s the question of how old your children should be before you allow them to have a sleepover at someone else’s house. I remember the biggest issue being whether or not I was ready to be away from home all night or not. I remember having to call my parents at about midnight my first sleepover because I just couldn’t handle it. It turns out now the biggest concern is one of trust. Trusting the parents and children at whose house your child will be sleeping. Mostly in terms of safety. Whether or not the parents can be trusted to provide adequate levels of supervision. Whether or not older siblings will introduce your child to inappropriate things. Whether or not your child will be put in a position to be hurt in this surrounding. And to be entirely honest, the whole thing baffles me.

See, these other mothers immediately jumped to sexual abuse and molestation as an imminent and real threat. And my mouth just dropped at this. I think it’s the imminence these mothers see that shocks me the most. They essentially feel like they won’t allow sleepovers at all until they feel their children are old enough to be their own advocates. Which essentially means their first night away from home will happen when they leave for college. I don’t mean to be flip, but seriously. Can anyone truthfully say they were completely equipped to be their own advocates, not to be influenced by questions of social or emotional pressures, much before they left the nest? Or more to the point, until they had to create (and perhaps defend) their own nest?

Shower Time

In my early months as a new mother, at the top of my list of concerns was how to get a shower every day. The Boy wouldn’t really let me put him down much and he hated the swing. So I spent good portions of my day finagling time and space to take a shower as it was the one thing I was utterly unwilling to give up. Having a clean house? Meh. Getting errands done? Who cares really. Staying caught up on laundry? I can wear jeans more than twice. But even if I was in dirty clothes and never got to do my hair or get on deodorant, I was hell bent on taking a shower every single day.

I kept the same priorities when The Girl came along. Although she was much more agreeable and loved the swing. She was generally pretty easy going and willing to just go with the flow. So taking a shower wasn’t ever really all that hard.

Until now. Now she insists on taking a shower with me. Every. Single. Day. Which isn’t really a huge deal except for the fact that she plays directly underneath my feet. And I just know that one of these days I’m going to accidentally step on her, over correct and end up falling in the shower and breaking a hip. It’s completely infuriating. And it also means that I don’t even get those 10 minutes without her in my shadow. But really? The problem is me falling and breaking a hip.

The Girl would stay in the shower all day long if I’d let her. As long as the water stayed warm, I’m fairly sure she would play happily under the water until I forced her out from underneath the waterfall. She babbles on to herself as I’m brushing my teeth, doing my hair, and finally getting on my deodorant. She concocts elaborate scenarios that often require singing.

And I still have to occupy The Boy so I can take a shower. Keep him busy and distracted, not to mention threatening him with everything I can think of to prevent him from flushing the toilet while I’m in the shower.

Baby on the Brain

Babies, babies everywhere!! It’s one of those things where I don’t know if I am just paying more attention because I’ve got babies on the brain or if they really are just everywhere right now. But I just had two friends have babies, another is due any day and three more are just out of their first trimesters. And dearest C and her husband are in the waiting process of adopting a baby. They are everywhere I tell you, everywhere!

And it is making me crazy. And even making me start to second guess myself a bit. I’m sure that the second guessing is coming primarily as a matter of self preservation. Because I’m thinking, well maybe we don’t really need to have another baby. We went out to dinner (a huge splurge) with some friends the other night after our court date and as I was sitting there, I realized that my children are big enough to go out to eat with friends and I no longer have to hover above them ready to avert any impending disaster. They could sit at one end of the table with their friends and eat dinner just as we were eating dinner with our friends at the other end of the table. The Boy astounds me daily with how big he is. The Girl is getting more and more self-sufficient every day. If we have another baby that will mean starting all over. In another year and a half The Girl will be in kindergarten and I will have my days back. Back to do with what I want. Whether that be diving head first into grad school, writing a novel or going to see a movie or watching bad day time TV. Another baby means that in a year and half I would have an infant and spend all of that free time sitting on the couch nursing. Or trying to write with a sleeping baby strapped to my chest or my back.

All of these reasons to be grateful that I’m not pregnant. And yet, at their core they are little more than a way to put off the crushing disappointment for one more month.

Sucktastic Day

I know I’ve been doing a lot of very boring “recounting my days” posts lately. And I’m sure that’s because I’ve been so preoccupied with my first story for the new blog (www.write 52in52.blogspot.com just in case you forgot). But I got that sucker finished last night and went ahead and posted it a day early. It’s loose and a bit sloppy in places. It wanders a bit and isn’t entirely focused where I wanted. But there might be some good stuff in there. Maybe some good jumping off points, some nice use of language and perhaps an intriguing character or two. I don’t know, what do you think? (Hint, hint, hint.)

And that’s about the only positive thing I have to say about today.

Packing was more like moving this morning. My children were firmly entrenched into their nana and papa’s house in pretty much every possible way. So I had to scour the entire house to find all their crap so that The Girl didn’t throw a fit at bedtime tonight because we happened to have left her “most favorite” baby behind.

As I was getting dressed this morning, The Boy came in and before I got my bra on, he looked at me and said “Ew mom, what are those things hanging down?!?” I almost cried right there and then.

I haven’t really made this public knowledge as of yet, because well, our current life circumstances would probably make you all look at me (and my husband if you know him) like we’ve completely lost our minds, but we’ve been trying for baby #3 since July and I am, once again, not pregnant this month. We’ve never really had to try all that hard to get pregnant and, well, let’s just say that I’m starting to get frustrated.

We have bare cupboards and the teensiest of money with which to fill them. The children are whirligig spaz cases that are making me crazy and have been the opposite of helpful for the past two days.

And to top it all off? I’ve got another fucking headache.

Tomorrow will be better. There will be gin. And a day with my college roommate.

Home Prep

We’re going home tomorrow. It’s just time. My dad has had three back-to-back fantastic days, I miss my husband, my children need to go back to school, I miss my friends and at this point, in the din of my screaming back, I miss my own bed! The Boy goes back to school on Monday anyway and I’m fairly sure if The Girl doesn’t get back into school, or at least regular playdates with her friends, soon, she’s going to drive us both completely batty. I realized today, as I was looking at the calendar, that The Girl and I have been here for more than 6 out of the last 8 weeks. That’s a long time to be away from home.

So I spent today going around my parents’ house gathering up all of my children’s toys, books and various asunder other items they’ve collected and/or brought with them. You’d think the house was actually my children’s little playhouse. That they deigned to allow us all to live here to with them as long as we didn’t muck about with their things too much. Seriously, they have totally taken over the entire property. Whether it’s the myriad of sticks The Boy has strewn around the deck and yard, the constantly fluctuating Star Wars battalion or the collection of books, DVD’s and Leapster cartridges tucked in and around every nook and cranny in my line of sight.

It is going to take a magic trick to cram all of this into my car tomorrow to trek it all home. Although if it doesn’t all fit, that’s fine too, The Girl and I will be back in a couple of weeks. So we can take another load back then I suppose. Although there’s a part of me that fundamentally objects to having to make two (three if you count the car full my husband took home with him on Sunday) trips to take all of my children’s toys home. I mean, that’s just obscene. But they had a year from hell too, so it’s ok for them to get spoiled rotten after that. I just kinda want to know when it’s my turn. Is that wrong?

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!

My husband and I spent all day today in the car. The roads were crap yesterday, so we decided to wait to leave until this morning, hoping the sun would have time to work on the ice. And other than the fact that my car is in need of an entirely new instrument panel so I had zero idea of how fast I was going, it was a good drive.

We walked through the door and got mobbed by the children, although the first thing out of The Girl’s mouth was “When can we go home?” She’s been here now for more than a month, so I can understand her desire to sleep in her own bed and get reacquainted with her toys and other sundry beloved things that got left behind. I can understand her wanting to go back to school and see her friends. I can understand how the fun vacation at Nana and Papa’s has turned into everyday life, but without all her stuff, away from her friends and living out of a suitcase.

So I think that we’ll stay through this week and then head home for a bit to let both kids get back into school and let my husband and I get this bankruptcy thing moved along (by the way, I’d like to take Bank of America out back and flat out kick their asses).

I am feeling cautiously optimistic about 2010. I started 2009 with loud and triumphant declarations that this was going to be MY year. And it was, just not in any way I ever could have imagined. It was my year to grow and learn, cry and throw temper tantrums, learn some more, grow some more and generally get my life turned upside down.

This year I am demanding 2010 be full of adventure and blessings, preferably in the most calm and boring way possible. I want to continue to love completely, challenge myself thoroughly and dream hugely, just without all the trauma and drama please. I’ll continue to work hard, just stop putting the people I love in danger. I don’t think that’s all that much to ask for, do you?

Decision Made

I am sitting on my couch. In my house. Writing on my laptop and posting to the blog using our Wi-Fi instead of “borrowed” internet from the neighbors. I’m home. For three and half days.

It was hard to make myself walk out the door. It was hard to leave the children with their beatific smiles. It was hard to leave my dad who woke up feeling crappy this morning. It was hard to leave my mom with everything to handle on her own. It felt utterly selfish. But I did it anyway. Because I know that regardless of what path this process takes, it’s going to get infinitely harder before the end and I needed to take a few days to rejuvenate. To do absolutely nothing I didn’t want to do. To not have my days dictated by my gorgeous little authoritarian offspring. And maybe if I’m really lucky, I will get to meet E and C’s new baby boy before I head back down to my parents’ house.

The drive was easy again thanks to the books on CD (which I shamelessly subjected my husband to). The roads were mostly clear and even though there is something very wrong with the electrical system in my car (I drove home with no speedometer or RPM, oil and battery gauges) we made it in great time.

We only brought one car back, so I’ll be housebound unless I want to take my husband to work every morning (which I don’t). But that’s fine. I have plenty that I want to get done while I’m here. Although I think I probably will take the car one day if for no other reason than to be able to pick my husband up from work and have us do a mega-splurge for a date night (most of our “dates” are shoe-horning a movie in when my mom is visiting and it’s usually at a very non-date time, like first thing in the morning).

I’m giving myself permission to put the guilt down and walk away. So that when I do return, I can resume my role as mother and daughter and be at the top of my game.

Mix Anxiety with Guilt and...

I am feeling guilty. Because I desperately want to go home with my husband tomorrow for a few days until he was planning on coming back to my parents’ house on Thursday anyway. I would love to sit in my house and just enjoy the quiet. I would love to not have to do anything except catch up on my DVR’d TV shows from before I left and watch any and all of the copious movies we got/gave for Christmas. I would love to delve into my music wish list and spend some of the iTunes gift certificates I got. I would love to take some time to start researching and writing notes about the first story in the new blog I’m going to kick off on New Year’s Day. I would love to take three days and just be in a bit of solitude and utter quiet.

Here is the problem. I feel totally guilty wanting that right now. Ridiculously guilty. At this point where my one and only priority should be spending as much time as possible with my dad. At this point where I should be last on my priority list.

I have this sort of double-edged anxiety that sets in when I think about leaving, even for just a couple of days. Anxiety that my mom will call in the middle of the night and tell me my dad has died and I wasn’t there. Anxiety that if I don’t take some time for me, to refocus and decompress that I will very soon lose my footing here and start taking it out on my parents and children. I know the whole theory “if you don’t take care of yourself, you can’t take care of anyone else.” I know that. And I am even willing to concede that it’s true. But I also know that in situations such as these, where my role as mother and daughter far outweigh any role as individual, that little nugget of wisdom simply does not apply.

So I am struggling right now. Trying to figure out what is the right thing to do and hoping like hell that I am right, whichever way I choose.

12/25/09 - Merry Christmas!

Holy present explosion Batman!! I got a great picture of the two of them on first sight of the magnificent pile of wrapped goodies arranged perfectly behind two grand offerings from Santa. The looks on their faces were utter, unabashed joy. It was what Christmas mornings should be. It was what was so sorely lacking in last year’s Christmas.

The Boy’s Christmas was chock full of Star Wars. And that is pretty much it. Between Santa and all the grandparents, The Boy now has his very own Star Wars armada to cheerfully batter about. He was over the moon! Throw in a couple of super cool tie dyed shirts from Nana Ro, a bright orange Wolverine sweatshirt from mom and dad and super cool Spider-Man slippers from Nana and he was a very happy camper indeed.

The Girl’s Christmas was like a diva/princess/rock star Mecca made tangible. I removed the ban on all things Barbie this year so she was awash with tons of familiar pink bubble writing as well as getting her dress up box tripled with super cool princess dresses and truly divine shoes adorned with rhinestones and feathers galore. Round all that out with her first guitar and drum set and she was ready to rock and roll, literally. I don’t think she could have chosen a more perfect assortment of gifts if you had given her free reign and all the money in the world.

My darling husband surprised me with tickets to see Muse in Denver in April as well as playing to my recent embrace of adolescent obsession with Twilight. And in an effort to plug the one glaring hole in my culinary aptitude, my mom gave me a rice cooker. I seriously cannot make rice to save my life. But now I can! And my husband was happy to get iTunes money and new additions to his sci-fi library.

My mom loved the iPod we gave her and my dad looked like he really appreciated the writing journal I gave him.

Not to mention the fact that I absolutely nailed my grandmother’s cinnamon rolls. They were decadent and perfect.

I could not have wished for a lovelier Christmas.

12/24/09 - Merry Christmas Eve!

Merry Christmas Eve!

I remember when I was a kid, Christmas Eve was like the previews of Christmas Day. I spent all day hollering “Merry Christmas Eve!” to anyone and everyone who would listen. We had our big Christmas dinner with my grandfather and my great aunt on Christmas Eve and I would get to open one gift. I would painstakingly write my letter to Santa. I would slowly pour milk into my favorite glass for him to wash down the tasty iced sugar cookies my mom and I had labored over. I would lovingly peel the carrots left for his reindeer and set it all up together in the most prominent (but out of dogs’ reach) place I could find in the living room. Once everything was set up perfectly, I would go to bed, feeling dutiful in my need to be asleep quickly and without fight so that Santa could come to my house as quickly as possible. As if I could imagine him somewhere tapping his fingers on the side of his sleigh waiting for me to go to sleep as the minutes ticked by, quickly screwing up his efficiently run, once-a-year, delivery service.

The whole tradition of it was huge for me. As was my rock solid belief in Santa. I had friends at school telling me left and right that I was just flat silly to still believe in Santa. But I just knew that he was real.

One night, however, I was bolder than normal and when I awoke for no reason and saw the light still on in the living room, I crept to the doorway to try to catch a glimpse of Santa himself. I felt certain that I would see the fuzzy white trim on his bright red suit as I peeked around the corner.

Instead I saw my mom and dad laboring over the Barbie pool I would awaken to the next morning. I was heartbroken to say the least. But in the years to come, I chose to still believe in Santa. Barbie pool be damned. So when The Boy asked me tonight if Santa was real, I could without any doubt, say yes.

12/23/09 - Wraptastic

Here is the only thing I really dislike about Christmas: wrapping presents. I’m not very good at it, it takes forever and you spend all of this time with the paper and bows and tissue paper and ribbon and what not and then in about 7 and a half minutes, it all winds up in a big black garbage back heading for the dumpster.

I had a half marathon wrapping session this evening so that I didn’t have to do all of it tomorrow night. And I turned on Love Actually, like I always do when I’m wrapping presents, which made it mostly bearable. Until I tried to stand up after sitting on the floor for two and a half hours. Then there was pain and I promptly felt really, really old. But I love that movie, so in the end it all worked out.

And my children are going to pull in a haul the likes of which I’m not sure they’ve ever seen. I mean it is almost obscene. Both sets of grandparents and family friends banded together to fill any gaps left by our anemic finances. They are going to be in heaven come Christmas morning. I told them this evening that they could open one present tomorrow before bed, but unlike like when I was a kid and presents would start multiplying under the tree starting about a week or so out from Christmas, we don’t put any presents out until Christmas morning. So not only do the kids wake up to presents from Santa, but all of their other gifts as well. The looks on their faces are always priceless and make every single, painful wrapping moment so completely worth it. So we’ll pick one out for them tomorrow, a small one, just enough to whet their imaginations as they turn over what else might be waiting for them when they wake up.

We spent the entire day doing crafts and transforming the house into a very merry place indeed. Now I just have to keep my fingers crossed that my husband can make it here tomorrow. All I want for Christmas is to have my family together. Pretty please?