I am happily married, a mother of three wild children, sister, friend, and daughter.... never thought I would be alone on Christmas. But, after all the kids are in bed and my husband left for work, here I sit - ALONE...
Funny, how after a crazy day of cooking, cleaning, unwrapping, refereeing and playing, you would think that I would be thrilled to be alone. No.
So, here I sit. Avoiding the things I need to do. Wishing my husband was here. Hoping that I will gain the courage to face the empty living room that just moments ago was full of crazy, happy, energetic life... Then again, maybe this isn't so bad after all.
I can watch what I want.
Listen to the Christmas music I like.
Sit on my ass.
And Relax.
Yeah, it would be nice to do that with someone else, but then again, tonight I don't have to share the remote.
Merry Christmas! Pass the Eggnog!
25 December, 2011
17 December, 2011
Packages all tied up with paper and string
Ahh, the satisfaction of being done with the Christmas shopping and looking at all your packages wrapped and ready to go. I know, sounds shallow, huh?
But I can look back at my childhood and understand why those pretty packages mean so much to me. Growing up, we never had a lot at Christmas. I still remember the year we came home from church to a tree on our porch. A beautiful thing to a kid, whose parent's couldn't afford a tree. I cherish the memories of gifts that were given to us from anonymous people or friends when we weren't expecting any. Those gifts meant even more. I even liked the fact that we didn't get a lot of gifts at Christmas. I remember hearing kids at school talk about the 8 or more gifts they got and thinking how sad it was. At 10 years old I actually told myself that they couldn't enjoy all of their gifts if they got so many.
My other memories of gifts were the matching gifts. One year it was porcelain dolls, another year matching coats, and again matching bikes.... then yet again, at 14 it was matching outfits. Don't get me wrong, it isn't an attitude of ingratitude that I look back on those gifts. I was truly grateful, and still am. But somehow, they left me with a void. Or maybe it was a voice, crying "don't you know me?" "Do you take the time to listen?" Another time, a family member took me shopping for my gift, and purchased a dress for me even when I told them I did not like it. The gifts were not about the recipient, they were about the giver. Not what I wanted, not what mattered to me, but what worked for them.
These experiences have influenced my gift giving. I want to give generously, to put my heart and soul into giving. To give in a way that shows that I care about the person who I am giving to. I also want to be mindful that it isn't about the money, but the heart. The result has often been high levels of stress. Trying to balance generosity with prudence is like walking a tight rope over the Grand Canyon. Only, I'm the one that is not very forgiving.
Yet here I am, truly excited about the gifts I am giving. Why?
My other memories of gifts were the matching gifts. One year it was porcelain dolls, another year matching coats, and again matching bikes.... then yet again, at 14 it was matching outfits. Don't get me wrong, it isn't an attitude of ingratitude that I look back on those gifts. I was truly grateful, and still am. But somehow, they left me with a void. Or maybe it was a voice, crying "don't you know me?" "Do you take the time to listen?" Another time, a family member took me shopping for my gift, and purchased a dress for me even when I told them I did not like it. The gifts were not about the recipient, they were about the giver. Not what I wanted, not what mattered to me, but what worked for them.
These experiences have influenced my gift giving. I want to give generously, to put my heart and soul into giving. To give in a way that shows that I care about the person who I am giving to. I also want to be mindful that it isn't about the money, but the heart. The result has often been high levels of stress. Trying to balance generosity with prudence is like walking a tight rope over the Grand Canyon. Only, I'm the one that is not very forgiving.
Yet here I am, truly excited about the gifts I am giving. Why?
Because I have put my heart into them. I am absolutely thrilled to give. And because I've seen little miracles come together to make it happen.
So, here it is... this year started with a problem... my usual dilemma was put to it's ultimate test. This is the year I was supposed to trim down my budget. Due to some financial decisions, which will work for our good in the long run, we are trying to keep our spending closely reigned in. How does one give generously without spending a lot of money? The pressure was on.
To my amazement, when I looked in my gift closet ( I have 5 nieces and nephews... I'm always getting things when I see them) I had almost all the gifts I needed for my nieces and nephews already purchased.
Next step, poor my heart and soul into gifts from the heart. So over 10 hours later, the homemade gifts are ready (Ok, that is probably an under estimate, but I don't really want to think about how much time I really spent on them, or I will probably just buy them next year).
Without breaking budget, Christmas was well on it's way... Ok, so I've probably spent well over 20 hours poring over every gift and detail, writing out lists, making sure I haven't forgot anyone. It hasn't been a cake walk. But it is worth it.
On to the next step. *Sigh* My family... I will admit, I have struggled this year. I've even shed tears and lost sleep on more nights than I am willing to admit ( I know I usually admit everything). So, as a desperate mama who want's nothing more than to give to her kids, I begged my Father for help. See, I don't want to just get my kids toys... I don't want them to have an even number of gifts, or even and even amount of money spent. It isn't about being fair or even about providing what I didn't have growing up.
I want to show my kids that I know who they are, care about what is important to them, and here what they say. I want my gifts to reflect what they love, want and desire, but even more, something that speaks to them that I know what that is.
So how does one do that on a budget? By begging the greatest Giver for a gift. Yes, I have been praying for what to give my kids for Christmas since October... maybe even September. And not just a quick little prayer either.
And the best gift I got this year... My Father heard my heart. He not only answered my prayers, but he did it beyond what I had asked.
Wood that is in the clearance bin, a stranger offering me her coupon, a four week long fight with my husband that resulted in something beautiful, and a buy one get one free of already marked down to 50% off sale, all culminated into gifts I can't wait to give.
So as I look at my packages all tied up with paper and string, I am truly thankful for the gift of giving.
14 December, 2011
Embracing Denial
So I know that denial is actually a bad thing... But today, I don't care. If denial is what gets me through the day, then SO BE IT... I must Deny.
So what am I in denial about?
1. My son starts kindergarten next year
2. My kitchen floor, or more appropriately the gunk that is hiding my kitchen floor
3. My load of laundry in the drier that is covered with a bucket of lint
4. My stack of presents that need wrapping, but I don't want to waste paper
5. My moldy vegetables and jars of who knows what in the deep recesses of my fridge
6. My friendly black widow spider that greats me each time I enter the garage
7. My garden that apparently has attracted vermin of unknown kind and refuses to sprout
8. My beautiful bright orange sugar pie pumpkins that have been on my counter since October
So, is there anything terribly wrong about pretending that these things are not important? That I don't need to worry about them? Is is possible that they will go away?
Truthfully, only one of those things is truly important. So what if my floor is dirty, that my presents will be haphazardly wrapped at the last minute, that my clothes are covered in lint and wrinkled, that I have a science experiment in my fridge or an odd fly trap. Does it really matter that my garden isn't producing or that I will be eating pumpkins in February? No.
What is important, is the one that scares me the most... my number one. What haunts me throughout the night, yet paralyzes me during the day. My son, my first born starts SCHOOL next year... and I haven't figured out where yet. OUCH! Ok, I've admitted it. Guess I can't embrace denial if I am admitting. Oh, but I long for denial. A place where I can pretend an important decision like that doesn't exist, or were I don't have to constantly feel guilty for not calling and visiting every school in the area.
In honor of truth, I must admit, I am terrified. Not of him, not of school, but of making the wrong decision. How do you know what the right school is? What makes a good school? What does my child need to succeed? How much is too much? Or how little is too little?
I ask the questions, and still feel lost. And so, until Christmas is over, I choose to embrace denial, so I can sleep at night, tackle my laundry, scrub a floor and wrap gifts. I might even bake a pumpkin as well.
So what am I in denial about?
1. My son starts kindergarten next year
2. My kitchen floor, or more appropriately the gunk that is hiding my kitchen floor
3. My load of laundry in the drier that is covered with a bucket of lint
4. My stack of presents that need wrapping, but I don't want to waste paper
5. My moldy vegetables and jars of who knows what in the deep recesses of my fridge
6. My friendly black widow spider that greats me each time I enter the garage
7. My garden that apparently has attracted vermin of unknown kind and refuses to sprout
8. My beautiful bright orange sugar pie pumpkins that have been on my counter since October
So, is there anything terribly wrong about pretending that these things are not important? That I don't need to worry about them? Is is possible that they will go away?
Truthfully, only one of those things is truly important. So what if my floor is dirty, that my presents will be haphazardly wrapped at the last minute, that my clothes are covered in lint and wrinkled, that I have a science experiment in my fridge or an odd fly trap. Does it really matter that my garden isn't producing or that I will be eating pumpkins in February? No.
What is important, is the one that scares me the most... my number one. What haunts me throughout the night, yet paralyzes me during the day. My son, my first born starts SCHOOL next year... and I haven't figured out where yet. OUCH! Ok, I've admitted it. Guess I can't embrace denial if I am admitting. Oh, but I long for denial. A place where I can pretend an important decision like that doesn't exist, or were I don't have to constantly feel guilty for not calling and visiting every school in the area.
In honor of truth, I must admit, I am terrified. Not of him, not of school, but of making the wrong decision. How do you know what the right school is? What makes a good school? What does my child need to succeed? How much is too much? Or how little is too little?
I ask the questions, and still feel lost. And so, until Christmas is over, I choose to embrace denial, so I can sleep at night, tackle my laundry, scrub a floor and wrap gifts. I might even bake a pumpkin as well.
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