...Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?

The holidays mean a lot of different things to people. Some approach it crazed. Some meet it with sadness of those who no longer are at their tree celebrating. Some see it as an over marketed, over produced exercise in glutton. Some use it to their advantage...knowing how a little piece of the holidays always warms their heart in a way that nothing else the rest of the year can...I am all of these...

I'm not alone in this. I was just brought to realize my slightly crazed Christmas obsession. I feel like I enjoy the simple things. The music. The lights. The little things that have become simple holiday traditions. Advent calendars, Elf on the shelf, setting up a nativity, and simply just decorating...it's all the things I enjoy, but seeing my kids get all 'twinkly'-THAT'S why I enjoy it! Hearing one of them walk into a room with a tree lit, and 'oooh and aaahh'. Noticing that the Christmas dishes are out and asking for hot chocolate in them. To me, it's worth being slightly crazed.

Last year, we decorated this beautiful house for the first time. We didn't have any traditions as to where to put this or how to hang that. We could enjoy what we had to put out in an organic way, for the love how it made us feel, hopefully lifting our spirits. And for me, that was a blessing. Christmas last year was hard enough. Looking back on it now...those decorations, those lights, etc...it was a form of therapy. It was like a blanket we could snuggle down into, and for a moment see just what was in front of us. Not think of what was behind or ahead of us...I wondered this year it would change? Would it be the same sort of feeling?

We lost a lot of Christmas 'things' this spring when our basement flooded. They were just 'things'...the absence of which wouldn't ruin our Christmas spirit, just depleted our stash is all. And, let's face it, after realizing that Atticus chewed most of our Christmas tree garland last year (who really needs a dog when you have this kid?), the less-is-more-approach is where we are going to have to be for the next few years. We decided that if we couldn't decorate with ornaments this year, we'd deck the place out in lights and work with what we had left. I was proud of these kids as we pulled the little trees they had in their rooms last year out of storage. They were exited to get them out, and didn't want to change them.

However, it should be said, their excitement is displayed in such unique and different ways. Oscar, while last year decided he knew the truth, has gladly kept the 'secret' and I think finds slight satisfaction with the fact that he's in on the secret of Santa. Here's hoping that lasts. I think he can see what I see in the little ones. He knows that the magic is in seeing someone believe, even in we don't exactly believe it ourselves. It reaffirms, and warms the heart. He has already outlined the movies we should be watching in the next 27 days...allowing a couple of black and white ones for me-that's a compliment...considering he asked if they were made when I was his age...eye roll here.

 Abe, is the closest living example of 'Buddy the Elf' from the movie Elf. He not only eagerly WANTS to decorate, he does it prancing around wearing a Santa hat from the day after Thanksgiving until Christmas Day. He is very nearly the picture of a kid who, while he's added up what's going on, he still believes in Santa, because to him it really is magic. He's like an old man this time of year, telling the little ones stories about all that happens from now until Christmas. He's quick to want to keep our simple traditions that we have had going, with never tiring excitement...makes all of the things this 'secret Santa' does completely worth it.

Nora, true to form, likes to talk for 3 months what she hopes Santa will bring her. She starts about the day after her birthday. Then, about the time you have been sent the order conformation from Amazon.com, the list changes. UHG! Meanwhile, she has taken to practicing singing her Christmas medleys in the bathroom. A little Bing, Autry, Ella, Burl Ives...I think she's still working on her encore piece. I've caught her talking to herself. I've asked her, "Who are you talking to?". She gives me this crazy look and says (with this hey, dumb-ass look on her face), "...I'm talking to Santa from my heart". She walked into our backdoor tonight squealing with delight, seeing the tree we put up today lit in the dark for the first time. Her eyes this time of year are extra sparkly, and it is adorable!

Atticus...he is everywhere. Playing with knives, decoding doorknobs, and at this point can fashion a ladder out of almost anything. Today, I caught him sitting in a small wooden sleigh we have for books. He looked at me in such a way saying, "Seriously, what is the point of this, I can barely fit...". If I could ask Santa for anything...it would be to calm that damned kid down before I possibly lose my mind...it could be any time now really. I have to remind myself, in two Christmases, the terrible twos might be over? How different it would be to not have to have canine hearing while going to the bathroom...But, the upside of this kid-Christmas will make sense this year. And, I have a feeling his gift to all of us, will be watching him completely freak out on Christmas morning.

I sit here typing with the holiday satellite music channel quietly playing, I'm a cheap junkie, I admit it. I have one more day until my 'jobs' for the month start. Hiding candy in the advent calendars. Finding some damned place for that Elf to hide, something akin to navy seal training for me, sneaky kids! Saint Nicholas Day treats...it's the one time of year when you can be magic for the sake of a smile, squeal, or giggle...that's my Christmas gifts from my kids every year...no scissors, entire roll of tape or paper required...

...I wish I was a little bit taller...

...it has come to this. I was hoping I would have had a couple more years until it materialized. It is an on going struggle of any parent trying to raise respectful, well mannered children. Children that seem to know more than any human walking the earth (Steven Hawking rolls, remember)...let's just say, I've approached some difficult ages. I was just expecting to see them 5 or 6 miles down the road. Problem is, the sign says buckle-up, it's the law...but wouldn't that inhibit me from flinging myself out of the vehicle properly?

I don't remember 'thinking' I knew so much at their age. At the age of 9, I still believed I had a sister named Sandy in the army (a very long story) and Santa...what a chump I was. A few of my kids, seemingly, know everything. Have an argument for everything. Enjoy debating everything. It's like an undeclared Olympic sport here on 815 Washington. It is exhausting. It is infuriating. It makes me look more longingly than I should at the liquor cabinet. Today, during one such debate/argument/confrontation, Nora walked into the room and said, "Positive in, positive out...". Schooled by a four year old...

It, especially today, has me mentally repeating the refrain of Skee-Lo's "I Wish" in my head..."I wish I was a little bit taller...".

I won't believe that I've come to the point that my word, unless yelled, means nothing. I won't believe that I will lose control of this house, and be steam rolled once again...but sometimes I believe all of that. Damn it, I KNOW I didn't speak that way to my parents, because I didn't ...I had two parents. I had the yin and yang that balanced it out. I love my parents, and when I was a kid there was a little fear there when necessary, which is what is sorely lacking in this house. That, and the ability to hear what I say, the first time I say it...I know, I shouldn't want a miracle.

So, here I am...while I already have the deep voice, I'm wishing I had an extra foot and 150 pounds on me to subdue the unwanted behavior. I wouldn't be able to fit into any of my pants, but it would almost be worth it! When you are no more than 25 pounds heavier than your oldest child, you're not really a threat- it's a lateral move. I wish that somehow, I could perfect a snarly glare that would declare "I'm not to be messed with" without saying a word. That's a tip you'll never pick up in a parenting book.

Even though I might fight the good fight in trying to raise respectful kids, it's not always winning the argument that declares the winner. There will always be debates. There will continue to be disagreements. The belt winner in these such matches, aren't either one in the ring. The winners are the ones who can walk into the room, like a chatty 4 year old, and basically tell you that you're both full of shit, and quiet down her show is on...and the issue is resolved, for now...

...chasing numbers...

"...basically...we are chasing numbers..." This is what we were told at the end of Jason's fight. I felt like he had left a couple of days before...as I saw him do so in a dream I had while at the hospital. While saying a final goodbye to my husband was ONE of the hardest things I think I ever have done...I did it, it meant something, I felt at peace with it...or as much as I could at the time. For me, the next hardest thing I have EVER done, is tell our children that he had passed away...for me, a year later, this is a moment that still haunts me...

It isn't something that is in the front of my mind constantly. I did, however know how hard it was going to be. I vaguely slept that first night back home...I knew that when the sun came up, I was some how going to have to explain...some how tell them...some how let them know how much he loved them...how very lucky they were to have him as a father...some how going to have to help them understand...all while trying to maintain my own emotions. I only had one chance to do this right, as if there were a right way to do it, but I was searching for one none-the-less.

 My heart still aches a little, and my eyes get more than misty, thinking about it...not for myself, for them. I remember I went into each of their rooms and asked if they would come down and get into bed with me. I figured if I could some how get them all in bed with me, with pillows and blankets I could some how try to hug them all at once. Each child who could speak was immediately asking a million questions...when did I get home? where was Dad? why was I here and he wasn't? when is he getting home? All the while, I just kept saying, "Let's get down to my room and we'll talk about it when we get there..." Meanwhile knowing, that in about 5 minutes, I was going to break their hearts. Not the kind when a kid doesn't get what they want for their birthday...the kind you can almost physically hear. I heard it, and all I could do was weep for them, wishing I had better answers to their questions, better solutions to their one main problem...no, your Dad isn't coming back.

While that moment haunts me, at times worse than seeing Jason lose his fight, I think it's because they are still living. I think knowing that at such a young age, that was a defining moment for them...The weeks after Jason passing I would nearly chant to myself or anyone who would listen, in the dark of my bedroom...how am I going to do this? how can I do this alone? how am I going to make it? I remember asking my Mom the same questions. At the time I wanted a more concrete answer, but the one she gave me was stoic and very true...she merely said, "...You just will, Kate."

Here I am a year later. As Atticus was in full on 'beast-mode' today, I decided to treat us all by having a dinner without him. He was fed and but to bed early. Something someday I'll have to answer for, as it happens a couple of times a month. But, everyone at the table tonight was in agreement, it was fabulous. We talked, we laughed, we ate baked mac-n-cheese and salad. I caught myself thinking...I'm doing it. I watch these children, grow into these amazing people, full of ideas, humor, and a little bit of a 'sauce-box' at times. I'm so proud of who they are, and what they are growing into. I'm, in a way, watching them grow and now I'm chasing numbers...theirs. Their accomplishments, their pitfalls, their heartaches, their life, unfolding. The helpful, curious, wonderful people they are becoming. Wondering how the next 5 years will be?

So, on November 7, 2013, after a year of celebrating surviving month after month...we are heading to our favorite old restaurant...one I haven't gone to in a year, as the last time I was there, it was with Jason. We are going to eat, and laugh, and talk about their father, and what we want to accomplish in the next year...and I will have a smile on my face.  I'll be watching them hit milestones, a year ago I couldn't even imagine...while a year ago, I thought I'd never have the strength to do any of this...turns out I have had it all along, times 4...

...the fun-flask

...I grew up in a funeral home. I know I've discussed this issue before, but it begs mentioning again. I was a second generation of kids living in a funeral home. I never found it weird. I never found it creepy, my dad was the original 'Work from Home' guy. There is a noise level and a sense of somber at times learned in living in a funeral home. You learn at a young age how to answer a business phone, arrange flower baskets, and clean ashtrays. These were all valuable lessons a nine year old could take on with her in life. I'm grateful for many fond memories of living in a small town funeral home as a kid. It also needs to be mentioned, that while I speak a lot of my liquor cabinet, I do not have an issue with drinking. I'm a responsible adult. However, there are those "desperate times, call for desperate measure" moments...I am also someone who knows everything is best in moderation.

Why the strange, illusive confession statement above? It has everything to do with my flowing of emotions in the last couple of days. Tears. That's it. Just tears. Not really able to put words to why they have been creeping in. I'm a realist, I know that life can't be undone. I know that this last year, while at times difficult, has taught me more than could ever be put into words. The enormity of my life, and all that has happened, good and bad, has set in. I was discussing today with a wise friend, I didn't know what the 'year mark' would feel like. I could sit and dwell on all the things I've not accomplished. The poor mothering that has happened more than a time or two. The fact that it all is still fairly terrifying, but I haven't the option to run. At times, decompressing, is an understatement...Well, it brings me to a year ago...

The day after Jason passed away, I really didn't want to do anything but lie in bed, pull the covers over my head and wallow. The loud kind of wallow. The kind you see women in the streets doing in foreign countries on the news. That was my idea of decompressing, and it didn't happen. Being raised in a funeral home, I should have known better. I had to slap on some clothes, and go plan a funeral...so we'll put a pin in the wallow until later? Not exactly. There was life to handle. Calls from friends and family. Doors to answer with baked goods, dinner, cards, and flowers. There were people to call back and voice mails to listen to. Oh, there were also four confused kids wandering around here, and no one really knew what to say to them...including me. If there were ever a time to RUN, that would have been it, I even think about that to this day...it, at the time, was almost TOO MUCH...

The thought of having to see people upset, hold my own emotions together, and thank them in the manner that I thought they deserved...now we've hit the too much status. I realize that I put these pressures on myself, but that's who I am, sadly. For about 12 hours I thought about skipping town. I just didn't think I could pull the visitation off...the control freak possibly losing control? Not good. It was then that I turned to my sainted friend April, and uttered the words that have made me laugh/smile in the last few weeks thinking about it. I said, "April...we are going to need a 'fun-flask'..." To which her three words back to me were a resounding, "...I'M ON IT!"

Now, my plan was not to get hammered at my late husbands visitation. It was, for me, like taking an umbrella to fight off the rain. If at some point, I thought I needed it, then I had it in my arsenal. On the way to the visitation, April was handing me lipstick to apply while driving. Reassuring me, that if there were ever a time I needed anything, just to nod at her and she'd be on it. My kids would end up playing/watching movies, gorging themselves with Halloween candy and soda a designated room at the funeral home, thankfully one less thing to worry about. The funeral director, and dear friend, wasn't lying when he said he predicted it to be a large turn out...while that was unbelievable, it was also very nice. I didn't really have time to give April the 'nod', however she would come by and check on me. "...oh, I'm fine", I'd say to her. After about 3 hours in, she came up and said, "...here, you need to drink this...(water, with a splash of something)". Clearly, she was nodding for me, and I'm grateful to her for it.

I feel like life doesn't give you a second chance...something, that while it is gut wrenching to learn, man, if you can understand it...the world is an entirely different place. Life is always going to get harder. So, you cry about it, cuss about it, drink about it, and embrace it. That's where I'm heading. That's what I'm wanting to teach my kids in this next year. Life is what YOU make of it. If you love someone, you let them know. If you are hurt by someone, you kindly confront them. If you have dreams, you follow them. If you take the easy way, those dreams might be a while out of your reach. The time you have here on earth is fleeting, make sure you know what you stand for, and you are able to SHOW, not tell, others by your example. Make every moment (even the ones where you are about to lose your shit) count...they are the ones you'll remember anyway...and for heaven's sake, don't forget your fun-flask, I mean umbrella...