Guilty as charged...I admit it. I use Christmas. I have compared it to therapy, I have used it to elicit feelings of warmth and happiness. I'm guilty as charged. But, who doesn't? The day I have dreaded for 390 days came today, the first full day of Christmas break. I was waxing poetic at the dinner table, about a time when I was a child, camped out on the landing in my old house, and how I thought I saw Santa. It's no joke, I actually thought I saw Santa from the waist down. I heard the bells, I heard his "Ho Ho Ho,,,". To which I had one Tall sitting on the edge of his seat, and the other dropping the bomb of the century, "...no way! No way that is true! You are lying! You're the one who told me he wasn't real..." (insert jaws dropping, silent sobbing here).
It all started last December. Abe came crying to me, telling me that not only did Oscar not believe in Santa, that he told him the whole thing was fake. Life, as I knew it at the time, had very little to be excited about. Their father had just passed away. There were very few things to put faith in, for me and for them. I was broken, sad, and needed something to look forward to. I'll be damned if Oscar was going to ruin what little innocence reality had already taken away. I had a discussion with him about the 'magic' that Christmas had to offer. That while I was in fact 'Santa', we all need something to believe in, and that growing older meant that we were now a part of the new 'magic', by helping others to believe in something that they couldn't see. I told him that being 'truth-seeker' would get him no where fast...nothing for Christmas, and he could bet if he was telling what he knew at school, he'd be the LAST on any invite list to a friend's birthday party. I thought I brought the message home...but I under estimated his need for being right.
So, as he is blurting out his 'knowledge' tonight at the dinner table, Abe is nearly in tears that he doesn't believe in Santa. Nora is awe-struck at the fact Oscar would take Kris Kringle's name in vain, and the only speakable words that I can put together, those that would be suitable for others to hear, mind you there were MANY of which I cannot say, ASS HAT. I promptly ended his dinner, told him to find his favorite electronic device, and hand it over. I cleaned up the smalls, and met him in another room. He was frightened. He looked at me, as if to know what he did, but confused all at the same time. Honestly, some of the words that left my lips, I'm not proud of repeating. Some of the feelings I have towards this holiday aren't at all about the actual holiday. Some of my dependency of said holiday, have nothing to do with him, and more to do with what I CANNOT FIX, CHANGE, REPLACE. For that, I wish I would have stepped outside and taken a couple of deep breaths, but he got the fury...
I told him, while being 'RIGHT' was his mission in life, sometimes he HAD to think of others. I told him that while last year SUCKED the only thing I felt like I could do right (with the help of many friends and family) was Christmas. I told him, that while life didn't make sense, having your father ripped away for no good reason, some how, believing in something else helped his brothers and sister. I told him that he was an ass hat for taking that from THEM just because he, for what ever reason at the time, HAD TO BE RIGHT about something. I told him that while it saddened me that he no longer believed in Santa, the fact that the others did was a gift to me. It was something I could still do like before, only alone. I told him that believing in something, sometimes, makes no sense, but that it was unfair to try to sully those beliefs for his own gratification. I told him, knowing what he 'knows', and is so willing to ruin for others, he had better PRAY that there is anything under the tree come Christmas morning...at this point underwear should be something to look forward to...
At that point, I went outside to collect myself. I looked/heard the wind chimes that are by my back door. They were chiming away, as for what ever reason they seem to do when I am about to loose my shit. I looked at them and literally said aloud, "...alright then, what the hell am I supposed to do now? They need you, if for nothing else than in something to believe in, as clearly I have failed...". I went in the house, grabbed some lined paper, and handed a piece to Oscar. I told him, he had better write a note to Santa, explaining how sorry he was, for doubting him and for attempting to dash the hopes of those who believe. Oscar sort of looked at me queerly. I whispered to him, "...if you are looking to open anything on Christmas morning, you better EXPLAIN how very sorry you are in this letter". To which Nora said she wanted to tell Santa she loved him, could she have a piece of paper? Abe walked into the kitchen and said that he had promised the Elf on the shelf that he'd write a letter to Santa, and he hadn't yet done it (can I just say, that I don't have a favorite child, but at Christmas time Abe is my all time favorite child). Oscar wrote two pre-teen sentences about how he messed up, but wanted to know from me what to write next...to which I said, "...just think about how badly you want what was on your Christmas list, it'll come to you what to say...".
I guess, in a way, I can exhale. I've put a lot of unspoken pressure on Charles Schultz, Dr. Seuss, Frank Capra, O. Henry, Clement Clarke Moore and countless others to try to make lasting impressions of Christmas on my family. I so badly want my kids to believe in the magic of Christmas forever, as if I have some secret super power to do so...but it's not possible. Perhaps, I need to face the facts, life doesn't work that way. Perhaps I need to grasp that everyone, even children, eventually understand it's not real. I see this being the last year Abe believes. I have to swallow the pill, he shares a room and a DVD player with Oscar the TRUTH SEEKER. While it saddens me, I look forward to next Christmas, maybe Abe knowing the truth (far too early for me, but I digress) will be helpful. Maybe his excitement will kick into high gear about the time I'm tired of hiding the Elf on the shelf? Maybe I can have some company while wrapping Christmas gifts. I shudder to think of it this year. But, come Christmas morning, I can't lie, his face is the one I'm going to be taking mental pictures of to get me through the next year...
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
...you've got 7 days Elf...
It's a slippery slope. The holidays, while only as hectic as you make them for yourself, sadly are winding down. The magic that I see in my kids eyes, just looking for a creepy looking stuffed toy everyday, will end in a week. While it's sort of like a beautiful old song that moves you sometimes into an emotional state, the crescendo of Christmas is near...and then what?
I used to hate Tuesday nights years ago. Jason worked late on those nights. I was always so stressed out about getting the kids fed and in bed by myself. I dreaded the notion of dealing with bottles, babies, school work, baths and bedtimes by myself. A dear friend of mine would listen to me complain about it. That same friend said to me just after Jason passed away, "...I hate how life is for you now...everyday is a Tuesday night...". For what ever reason that conversation has been playing on 'repeat' in my head for the last couple of days...
Every person who has a child knows that there is a time of day, a couple of hours, when inexplicably it's beyond crazy in the house. My time of day like that is fondly called THUNDER DOME and it's from about 3:45pm until about 7:30pm. It was that way with one baby back in the day, it has just become louder with four. Now, that time of day has changed with four, not only due to the noise, but the lack of adult noise. It's the time of day, when I seemingly look to pick up a phone and call someone, or at times long for a pop-in. Today, I sent three card carrying members of Thunder Dome over to the hill to bask in the snow before it melts. I was left with the tiny insurgent who seemed to be subdued by eating his weight in pretzels and carrot sticks. As I sat there looking over school folders, mentally listing everything that still had to be picked up before Friday, a cocktail on the table...I wondered how my life would look 20 years from now.
I wondered how quiet my house would be, what my house would sound like. I contemplated what it would look like...The darken rooms. Floors free of toys. No rouge Cheerios to see under the table. No dirty socks left adjacent to the laundry basket. No one pre-dinner-prep-complaining about vegetables. No one bartering for a soda. No one wanting to be picked up. While quiet is a scarce commodity in this house, the futuristic home I was considering, only glimmered for a moment...it left me feeling empty...as if what I sometimes long for, really isn't anything to look forward to.
The crescendo nearing...I guess I see the years flying. The magic of this time of year, while at times manufactured for those you love, will slowly fade away as the ones you make it for grow older. The thought of how I wished I had a better memory, to be able to remember the little moments they have this time of year...they need to have these memories for later. Wishing I had another adult to help me remember, help me remind them, as my brain is slightly nearing 'crash' mode perpetually. Realizing, that even though everyday is "like a Tuesday night", during this time of year it's thrilling, fun, and magical. Sometimes however, the best moments are the ones you talk about over the table with someone else... and so, not often, but sometimes, for a little bit, I long for the possibility of a Wednesday.
I used to hate Tuesday nights years ago. Jason worked late on those nights. I was always so stressed out about getting the kids fed and in bed by myself. I dreaded the notion of dealing with bottles, babies, school work, baths and bedtimes by myself. A dear friend of mine would listen to me complain about it. That same friend said to me just after Jason passed away, "...I hate how life is for you now...everyday is a Tuesday night...". For what ever reason that conversation has been playing on 'repeat' in my head for the last couple of days...
Every person who has a child knows that there is a time of day, a couple of hours, when inexplicably it's beyond crazy in the house. My time of day like that is fondly called THUNDER DOME and it's from about 3:45pm until about 7:30pm. It was that way with one baby back in the day, it has just become louder with four. Now, that time of day has changed with four, not only due to the noise, but the lack of adult noise. It's the time of day, when I seemingly look to pick up a phone and call someone, or at times long for a pop-in. Today, I sent three card carrying members of Thunder Dome over to the hill to bask in the snow before it melts. I was left with the tiny insurgent who seemed to be subdued by eating his weight in pretzels and carrot sticks. As I sat there looking over school folders, mentally listing everything that still had to be picked up before Friday, a cocktail on the table...I wondered how my life would look 20 years from now.
I wondered how quiet my house would be, what my house would sound like. I contemplated what it would look like...The darken rooms. Floors free of toys. No rouge Cheerios to see under the table. No dirty socks left adjacent to the laundry basket. No one pre-dinner-prep-complaining about vegetables. No one bartering for a soda. No one wanting to be picked up. While quiet is a scarce commodity in this house, the futuristic home I was considering, only glimmered for a moment...it left me feeling empty...as if what I sometimes long for, really isn't anything to look forward to.
The crescendo nearing...I guess I see the years flying. The magic of this time of year, while at times manufactured for those you love, will slowly fade away as the ones you make it for grow older. The thought of how I wished I had a better memory, to be able to remember the little moments they have this time of year...they need to have these memories for later. Wishing I had another adult to help me remember, help me remind them, as my brain is slightly nearing 'crash' mode perpetually. Realizing, that even though everyday is "like a Tuesday night", during this time of year it's thrilling, fun, and magical. Sometimes however, the best moments are the ones you talk about over the table with someone else... and so, not often, but sometimes, for a little bit, I long for the possibility of a Wednesday.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
What the what?
...sometimes, I catch myself...sometimes, I actually have to remind myself...I live in a hilarious, ironic world, where I'm not much taller than those who I am in charge of...I have to laugh at the notion that I'm the grown-up.What sort of twisted world is it, that I am the one in charge of these gaggle of blue-eyed 'charmers'? It's as if I was attempting to step off an elevator at the wrong floor. Everyone I'm with subtly saying, "...um, chick, this is the wrong floor...you couldn't possibly be in charge of those kids..."
I was discussing with Oscar an issue he had had at school. He began to try to 'set me straight' on the issue. I kept calm and while I didn't appreciate his tone, it didn't make me jump from a 2 to a 10 on the Mommy Dearest Scale...so I didn't think anything of it. All of the sudden, Abe comes into the room and gets right into Oscar's eyes and says rather sternly, "...that woman has a college degree...she puts a roof over your head and food on your table...you will can it, and listen to her because she is your mother...". Then Abe turned around, and walked out the room. What the what?...I got off at the wrong floor?
I am an unlikely parent. My views, while shaped by the experiences I have been lucky enough to have, are unlike that of most parents, or even my own. I believe that I am the most important example for these kids, if they end up train wrecks- I might have had something to do with it. But, their lives will be further shaped by the choices/decisions they make. I always cringe when I hear kids talking about going to college. I value a college degree, please do not misunderstand me. However, who knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives, with a $15,000 a year price tag until they figure it out, at 18? I don't feel like every kid should go directly to college, if they even should at all. I encourage my kids to go to a trade school first...electricians, plumbers, barbers...I can't do any of those things.
In the van the other day, Nora started one of her MANY talking points in the 13 mile excursion that we take once or twice a week. That day's talking points where: Hibernation, why bother? Why does red mean stop and green mean go? Did I know that she knew how to play the bass guitar? Why isn't my favorite animal and elephant like her since we are related? Lastly, she finished with a rousing discussion about how she really didn't know what she was going to be when she grew up...there were so many choices. I told her that she didn't have to really decide today, and that she should just enjoy being 4 years old. She then says to me, "...so, what are you going to be when you grow up?....or is this Mom thing probably it?"...speechless.
I'm not the most conventional woman. I never really 'sought out' a career. I never really felt the need to become a goal setting employee. I entered the adult world, not really knowing what I wanted to do other than be a mom. Instead of fitting my kids into my career life, they became my career. I feel like I did the important things first. Now, I do realize I live a charmed life. This stay-at-home-life won't be lasting too much longer. But, I'm grateful that I made the choices that I have, not only for myself but also for my kids sake. The 28 year old me, would have never imagined the world in which the nearly 38 year old me resides. Ironically, I wouldn't want to be 28 again. Thankfully, with age comes some knowledge of not only who you are, but what you are capable of. I have managed to keep four rowdy blue-eyed charmers alive as the 'adult in the house'. My aspirations become all that more important...I keep learning from them.
I was discussing with Oscar an issue he had had at school. He began to try to 'set me straight' on the issue. I kept calm and while I didn't appreciate his tone, it didn't make me jump from a 2 to a 10 on the Mommy Dearest Scale...so I didn't think anything of it. All of the sudden, Abe comes into the room and gets right into Oscar's eyes and says rather sternly, "...that woman has a college degree...she puts a roof over your head and food on your table...you will can it, and listen to her because she is your mother...". Then Abe turned around, and walked out the room. What the what?...I got off at the wrong floor?
I am an unlikely parent. My views, while shaped by the experiences I have been lucky enough to have, are unlike that of most parents, or even my own. I believe that I am the most important example for these kids, if they end up train wrecks- I might have had something to do with it. But, their lives will be further shaped by the choices/decisions they make. I always cringe when I hear kids talking about going to college. I value a college degree, please do not misunderstand me. However, who knows what they want to do for the rest of their lives, with a $15,000 a year price tag until they figure it out, at 18? I don't feel like every kid should go directly to college, if they even should at all. I encourage my kids to go to a trade school first...electricians, plumbers, barbers...I can't do any of those things.
In the van the other day, Nora started one of her MANY talking points in the 13 mile excursion that we take once or twice a week. That day's talking points where: Hibernation, why bother? Why does red mean stop and green mean go? Did I know that she knew how to play the bass guitar? Why isn't my favorite animal and elephant like her since we are related? Lastly, she finished with a rousing discussion about how she really didn't know what she was going to be when she grew up...there were so many choices. I told her that she didn't have to really decide today, and that she should just enjoy being 4 years old. She then says to me, "...so, what are you going to be when you grow up?....or is this Mom thing probably it?"...speechless.
I'm not the most conventional woman. I never really 'sought out' a career. I never really felt the need to become a goal setting employee. I entered the adult world, not really knowing what I wanted to do other than be a mom. Instead of fitting my kids into my career life, they became my career. I feel like I did the important things first. Now, I do realize I live a charmed life. This stay-at-home-life won't be lasting too much longer. But, I'm grateful that I made the choices that I have, not only for myself but also for my kids sake. The 28 year old me, would have never imagined the world in which the nearly 38 year old me resides. Ironically, I wouldn't want to be 28 again. Thankfully, with age comes some knowledge of not only who you are, but what you are capable of. I have managed to keep four rowdy blue-eyed charmers alive as the 'adult in the house'. My aspirations become all that more important...I keep learning from them.
Friday, December 6, 2013
Complacency: a feeling of quiet pleasure or security, often while unaware of some potential danger, defect, or the like...
We've all felt it at one time or another. Whether it be with our kids, our family or our spouses...you get in a rut. Some ruts are just merely that, bumps in the road, all the while you know the true value of those who are around you. Others are ones that are nearly like surmounting Everest, but once atop you can see the forest for the trees, and all is right with the world...
When you realized that you have been complacent, it's sort of a sickening feeling. How could you ever unknowingly, or knowingly forget someone else's worth?...even your own at times? How is it possible that you forgot how amazing it feels to be appreciated, loved, even listened to?
This has been something on my conscious a lot lately. I'm guilty of all of it. I guess what makes me frustrated is knowing that some things cannot be changed...While at the same time, I sort of shield myself from being too carried away with making certain moments...there are no guarentees in life. Working hard to 'create-a-great-photo-for-Facebook' moment, sort of takes away the meaning behind it.
This has been something on my conscious a lot lately. I'm guilty of all of it. I guess what makes me frustrated is knowing that some things cannot be changed...While at the same time, I sort of shield myself from being too carried away with making certain moments...there are no guarentees in life. Working hard to 'create-a-great-photo-for-Facebook' moment, sort of takes away the meaning behind it.
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