Happy New Year 2008

New Year’s Eve always brings for me a sense of feeling small but important in an awesome world. As the ball drops and horns blow I think about successes, failed attempts, and future plans. My children’s smiling faces stay rooted in my heart as new hopes whisper in my mind. Comfort and distress twist around each other with enough emotion to stay as I move forward into a new year.

For me New Year’s Day is a place to start. No matter how badly things have gone or how different we would like our lives to be … the new year whispers an opportunity to change who we are … how we see ourselves brushing against and through an ever changing world.

All of us have past days that shine. Days we clutch with both hands and admire when we are feeling down. Holding them close gives us hope.

There are days when I feel off center, separate from my thoughts and those of everyone around me. On these days I cannot label how or why I feel this way. Remembering happier days is how I notice we are constantly moving forward.

No moment will ever be quite like this. These thoughts bring comfort and excitement. They hint at adventure and purpose.

As the New Year rings in I will feel connected to my family, friends, and co-workers. My heart will feel things my mind has not yet seen. New opportunities will unlock with blank roadmaps to follow. Safe travels as you journey forward into 2008.

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Please check out my new addition ... Page B to my page A to read more about new year's traditions. http://nowweregettingsomewhere.blogspot.com/

A Matter of Snow

Snow flurries whispered to earth yesterday afternoon. Ocassionally giant snowflakes piled soundlessly onto branches and fences. It was a mixture of large and small accumulation that lasted a short while. A late Christmas gift that was very much appreciated.

Sipping hot chocolate while dreaming of a white Christmas is an adult lullabye. Kids love snow any day. They dream about snowmen talking and snowball fights. Four year olds think of snow as artistic expression.

Excited shouts rose from my kitchen. Steaming bowls of chicken noodle soup quickly cooled. Three tiny noses pressed hopefully against window panes as they watched our yard turn white.

Callie squealed, "We can make the best snowman. A girl snowman. With a pink scarf."

"Yeah!" Donovan jumped up and down pointing out the window. "I can make a snowball and throw it at Ben."

"No. You cannot throw a snowball at me, Donovan!" Benjamin firmly crossed his arms.

"Okay then." I smile encouragingly. Yesterday's holiday cheer left me with a headache and I see an opportunity for quiet time. "While the snow finishes falling ... how about taking a nap. Just a short one. When you wake up ... we'll put coats, hats, and mittens on. Then we can play outside."

Ben, Callie, and Donovan obediently went upstairs and fell asleep. That quickly. Something unheard of in our house. Nap time is now as endangered as my quiet afternoon coffee break.

While the kids slept it rained. An overly enthusiatic rain that melted the snow. A small amount was left but was quickly evaporated by sunshine.

I heard the kids chattering busily as they ran downstairs. Piles of coats, mittens, hats, shoes, and waterproof pants were scattered across the floor. Everyone looked so happy and I hated to dampen their spirits.

"Kids. Something happened to the snow when you were sleeping. Look outside. It rained and melted the snow. See?" I pulled open the curtains.

In rapid sequence I watched each smile fade. Callie fell to the ground and cried. Ben ignored me and headed for the door. Helplessly I waited for the news to sink in.

Donovan took my hand. "I'll go outside with you."

I patted his head. "There is no snow."

He followed me outside anyway and assessed the situation. "That's okay mom. We can do other fun things inside. How would that be?"

Thankfully I smiled as the other kids followed him to the living room. They quickly threw themselves into play therapy and I freshened my coffee cup.

Up on the Roof Top .....

This Christmas brought a gooey cookie happiness that I did not expect to receive. A gift of peace that thawed four and a half years of obsessed neuroticism. With it came a tender hopefulness that we are "luckier" than I imagined.

Laughter bounced off wooden floors and happy chatter echoed between the walls. Our living room became a hearth of warm merriment. The kind of happiness that melts your heart and makes your eyes shine.

Cookie crumbs and an empty milk glass waited for inspection by the tree. Twinkling lights made wrapped gifts sparkle. Stockings were stuffed with chocolate treats.

Callie shrieked with delight as she shared what she'd heard the night before. "On the roof top I heard jingle bells. They were from the reindeer. I knew Santa would come."

A dozen candy canes hanging from tree branches captured Donovan's attention. "The elves are too short. Santa put them up there!"

Benjamin ripped paper from packages and stopped just once to yell, "Thanks, Santa!"

Not able to stop himself any longer he claimed the prize he had asked for especially in his letter. A miniature baby grand piano. It silently waited for him to play.

Donovan noticed a leftover cookie from Santa's visit. "Can I have the cookie Santa didn't eat?"

I just watched them in wonder. Their belief that anything is possible softened my thoughts. Believing in the joy of a magical world where Santa is the important leader, reindeer play games, elves love the work they do, and cookies are the main food group ... That sounds so pleasant and happy. A fantastic place I want to believe in too.

Sometimes life gets in the way and it is hard to believe in things we cannot see. Days filled with icy rain can leave us wondering if this is all there is . Watching my children dance around my feet causes me pause. There has to be more. A feeling of peace and warmth can only come from more.

M E R R Y C H R I S T M A S
H A P P Y H O L I D A Y S

Thanks so much to those of you who helped Christmas magic along. Cousin Carol asked Santa to send a special letter to our kids from the North Pole. Santa and his photographer, raising money for Lion's Club, were both wonderful. To everyone who sent a card, baked a cookie, or gave a surprise to boost my children's Christmas spirit ... Thank you.


They believe with all their hearts! You can tell by their faces. Without help .... it would be a hard love to pull off.

Snip Snip

Some parenting moments cause my eye to twitch in relentless spasms. Nerves start jumping discreetly in one corner. Before long my eyeball is uncontrollably ticking.

This phenomenon is linked to extreme stress. The kind of stress that happens when your beautiful daughter experiments with scissors. Acute stress resulting from damage only time can fix.

At 8 o'clock last night I pulled into our drive. Meetings at work kept me from tucking the kids in as I like to do. Goodnight kisses are on my list of beloved mommy duties.

Brett tucked the kids into bed at 7 o'clock, turned the hall light on for their comfort (as he has a habit of doing) and fell into bed himself. Working nights exhausts him. When possible he naps.

Callie likes to creep around the house after lights out. She explores, dabbles, and experiments. When caught she usually gets into some degree of trouble. After all ... our kids know sneaking around after being tucked in for the night is a big "NO NO".

Last night she found her way into our bedroom and through the obstacle course of my work related supplies. No sew blankets were made hours before in a craft class. Scissors were left on the floor in my blanket making kit. Gifts for the Parent Holiday Gathering were stacked in front of extra fleece. Beanie stuffed animals and hand/foot print cards stood in the front row. When I am working ... our bedroom can become a dangerous place to walk in the dark.

Somehow Callie managed to locate my scissors. In the dark ... by herself ... she also pretended to be a barber. Not a well trained one either. She snipped and cut until there were three piles of hair on the floor. White scalp streaked the center of her head with choppy black hair plowed on either side. By the time I went upstairs and investigated the pitter patter of little feet it was too late. Just one lone length of hair remained hanging down her back.

To say I was horrified is an understatement. In truth I was devastated. Truly ... my heart broke and I felt physically ill. Stroking the sheared piles of hair I desperately wondered if I could glue it together and make a toupee for Callie. All of that beautiful hair that took 4 and 1/2 years to grow .... gone with one fell swoop.

Today I walked around in a daze. Courageously I touched the wild edges of her hair left behind. After work I went to the store searching for a way to cover up the evidence. A friend suggested earrings .... another friend mentioned rogaine ... I settled on hats.

Tonight I held Callie on my lap. "Even though you did a very naughty thing by cutting your hair .... you are still a very beautiful girl. I would love you even if you were bald."

Callie hugged me. "Mommy I love you too even if you were wrong."

I studied her for one long moment. "What do you mean I was wrong?"

A kiss was planted on my cheek. "I try to do my best but am little ... and ..... make mistakes. you were mad but ..." She takes her hat off and studies her hair with a satisfied grin, "it is already growing."

What kind of response am I supposed to make to that?@!

*The picture captures one of three hair piles.

Winter Wedding Party

Yesterday it was snowing outside and Callie and Donovan announced they were getting married.

The groom is dressed in a suit of armor. A sword swaggers at his side. Boots adorn his feet. Looking very serious he frowns and tells me to clap.

The bride is wearing her favorite princess dress with visible holes in the neck, waist, and hem. A crown of limp rosebuds sits on her head. Because she could not find matching slippers, one is purple and the other is pink.

Benjamin wears a polka dotted hat with a see through vest. His yellow shorts clash with red socks in cowboy boots. I am not sure who he is pretending to be … but he is writing on a doctor’s prescription tablet.

“Play music.” Donovan demands. He clasps twice and the dance begins.

He takes Callie’s hand and they strut across the room. It is a free style dance. There is a lot of dropping to the floor, jumping up and down, and winding until their eyes cross.

Benjamin giggles and tosses the tablet. “I can dance too.” The hat falls to the floor as he does some impromptu flips.

Whether it is a wedding or a circus … one thing is true. I love to see all three kids playing together.

This holiday season I hope you dance and feel merry! Santa is coming to our unit today. I am taking pictures. The kids are decorating gingerbread men this afternoon. The snow is mostly melted. My "to do" list is almost complete. Ho-Ho-Ho

Oklahoma Ice Box

Ice cracks outside a row of lit windows along our street. Limbs sag heavily to the ground. Holiday decorations are encrusted in icy bricks. No need to feel icy wind in my face to know winter swept into town last night.

We are the lucky ones still with electricity. Six hundred thousand people in Oklahoma are cooking on gas stoves, warming themselves by artificial fire, or seeking refuge from the cold inside make-shift shelters.

Seven years ago we were iced in without power for a week in Texas. We huddled together in

frightfully cold conditions making due with fire cooked hot dogs. Showers were cold and infrequent. Water had to be boiled and we did not have a gas stove.

Children make such a difference. Back then I was a cold and bored mother of zero. When the icy weather came I worried about us … Brett and myself. There was nothing else to consider.

Now I worry about my kids. If the power goes out, how will we keep the children warm? Are their favorite snacks and pre-prepared foods stacked in easy reach? Do we have a full tank of gas in the car and extra cash in our wallet in case we need to leave town? Will Callie’s asthma flair up?

Sitting warm and snug

in my living room I watch my children play beneath twinkling tree lights. Christmas music is

serenading us and cookies are cooling in the kitchen.

The phone rings and it is Brett calling to say he is on his way home. We are all healthy, safe, and happy.

As the world outside slumbers beneath blankets of ice we wait comfortably inside. My life's intentions no longer dwell simply on what makes me

happy . More often

than not I strive towards what makes our family happy.

What a difference seven years can make!

Santa Patrol

Inside our bedroom lies an artificial log mocking our authentic fireplace. Darkness erupts to the roof but not even light can pass through. The flue is shut tight.

Imagining flames licking kindling warms my heart. Still I know that not even electric fire will sizzle in our hearth. Benjamin is enthralled with anything resembling candle light and we do not entice him. We constantly tell him, “Fire burns. Do not touch. Ouch, it will hurt.”

Donovan is on Santa patrol. He has been going around with a flashlight making sure all entrances and exits for the “Jolly Big Elf” are in working order. Sticking his head inside our bedroom’s chimney caused me to fail inspection. “Momma, we’ve got a problem here.”

Startled, I ran to the fireplace to see. “What is wrong?”

He has his elf patrol backpack on and inspection gear is in both hands. “Santa can’t get through. No light. Look.” He points his flashlight up.

I stick my head into the chimney. “You are right. No light.”

“Santa won’t be able to get in if there is no light.” Donovan looks at me expectantly.

“He can come in through the door.” Smiling, I believe we’ve solved the problem.

This assumption is w-r-o-n-g.

Frowning, he drops his flashlight and plastic phone. Crossing his arms firmly across his chest he impatiently groans. “Santa cannot come in through the door. Only chimneys. That is where Santa comes in on Christmas.”

“Well, what about kids who live in apartments? Lots of kids live in houses without fireplaces. Then Santa has to come in through the door.” I grin, stand up, and brush off my jeans.

Donovan runs downstairs and calls out. “Momma! We have a problem.”

“Again?” I mutter and follow his voice to the living room. “Now what?”

He points up. “You lock the door.” He points to the deadbolt and chain.

“Santa is magic.” I give him my most fierce “don’t argue with me” look.

Sitting down on the “bad choices bench” I know he is upset. When my children have a choice in seating they never choose the bench. He mutters a sad, “Okay.”

I sit down next to him and place my arm across his shoulder. “Okay Christmas Cookie, what is bothering you?”

Dropping his chin to his chest he shakes his head. “You said we’d write Santa a letter.”

“Let’s write it now.” I stand up to organize supplies.

“There’s a problem.” He points at the mantel in our living room. Beneath sits our living room fireplace.

I freeze.

“You hung the stockings by the tree.” He points towards the window seat.

With accelerated heart rate I hand Donovan two pieces of paper. He has a lot to say. We will write it together. My small son’s wish list and my apology.

Tis the Season!

Right?

Sometimes this time of year leaves me searching for ... well ... more.

Like the little girl who in "The Grinch that Stole Christmas" I wonder each year about what this time of year means.

For each of us it is different. The meaning we place on this festive time of year likely changes every year for most of us. Life happens and forms an impression that carries us into the new year. With time our perceptions change. People are so transient.

Last week I spoke to a precious family whose baby has a life threatening birth defect. They have teenage children at home. Both parents work jobs that seem incredibly stressful. Money is tight. Their infant's medical needs will be insurmountable. Life is tugging them into a million tiny pieces.

The incredible stress and strain of balancing their new normal combined with holiday garnish seems overwhelming. They explained how they were divvying up money for Christmas and they doubted their other children would understand why.

Dad tells me, "It won't be much of a Christmas this year but at least our entire family will be together under the same roof."

Mom nods and holds her baby close to her heart. A tiny smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. Baby sighs trying to cuddle closer.

She begins telling me that a neighbor with three very small children is out of work and recently divorced. "Two and four year olds do not understand why Christmas won't happen for them this year. How do you explain Santa passing your house by?"

I agree that they are very young to learn such a difficult lesson. Two and four year olds should have free reign with dreams and imagination. Holiday stories should be real for them. For most children who celebrate Christmas, Hanukkah, or another holiday .... This is such a special time to be cherished.

Dad puts a pacifier in his baby's mouth. "The four year old wanted a tree and her mom was not able to buy one. We picked out a pre-lit tree and some ornaments for them. It is sitting in their house now."

Mom's grin spreads wider and her eyes shine. "The girls were so happy. It was such fun to see their expressions. The tree and ornaments were really inexpensive. Still, it felt so nice to give them a reason to smile this Christmas."

In awe I beam at this family. This mother, father, and child were in the middle of their own crisis yet they had time to brighten someone's day. I doubted it was even a quesiton. They saw a need and fulfilled it.

They had an unarguable excuse to be pitiful, desolate, and uncharitable. Anyone would look at this family's situation and feel their heart drop. No one would blame them for being focused on themselves. It would have been so much easier to look away.

But they did not.

How amazing!

They did not!!!

What an invaluable lesson they are teaching their own children.

Most impacting to my own festivities... What a meaningful gift they gave me. A beautiful story for the holidays. A reminder that we can each do better than it sometimes seems.