...It's the most wonderful time of the year!

This time of year just seems to FLY by. The more things we do, the faster it all seems to be slipping from us-except for the fleas-they've been overstaying their welcome, but we are surviving (itch, itch, itch-just the thought). While it seems that the Christmas season is rapidly slipping through my hands, I keep reminding myself- breathe, it's only the 10th of December! When else can you hear a 7 year old who knows every word to "I Want a Hippopotamus For Christmas?" I revel in it...even if she does only sing the same two odd verses over and over again.

I have been trying to be ever-mindful of the season this year...making sure to remember and remind everyone in my house that it's not the wrappings and the trappings that actually make the memories. As always there are the never ending interruptions while trying to hide presents, the praying that this year no one will break a window/mirror/piece of furniture like in years past and the anticipation that this season holds. All of the daily holiday rituals, i.e. Elf on the Shelf and Advent candy, I really never begrudge. It's all the little things that when added together make this season what it is to my family and I. No other time of the year is there anything really worth flying out of bed to be excited about, so I savor it.

This year the holiday season has been a little different. The memories that my kids fall back into retelling are ones that we have made together since we've moved here. It is gratifying in the moment to feel like I've done something not only worth remembering but also that there isn't any sadness attached to it. I wasn't sure that we would ever have that again a couple of years ago. While I am sure that indeed both of the Talls know the truth about Santa, for the sake of the rest of the brood, they are keeping the secret. They now both understand that the excitement in perpetuating the thrill of the holiday season is what it is all about. 

Unknowingly, my kids have already given me their Christmas gifts. I have been mentally noting and thoroughly enjoying watching who my kids are growing into being this year. Not sure if it is the ages they are or the growing insurgence of independence. I have noticed how much everyone is changing and I am gratified that I only want to ring their necks half of what I used to. They are all so very different, and have certain passions in their young lives, they also are each their own perfect piece of their parents. I am beyond grateful to see some piece of myself and Jason in each one of them...sometimes more than others. The other morning, while trying to quell the never-ending-debate of who gets the first doughnut on doughnut day, Nora declared, "Well, if you ask me? Oscar should get first choice, he hasn't been the one bitching all morning..."

Where did I go with this you ask? Well, for a brief moment, I wondered if Nora had developed some sort of mental telepathy, as I was possibly thinking the same thing word for word. I then cut her a harsh look of disapproval, and said that if she had decided to start using grown-up words, there was a very LONG LIST of grown-up things that she would have to start doing around here. It was a quiet doughnut day after that. 

I guess my point is simply this... As a parent you spend of most of your time feeling like you are in the trenches, but sometimes it is reassuring to know that possibly the offspring you are working so hard to rear into non-swearing-adults, are right there with you...understanding that a functioning family, while thriving on dysfunction at times, has to work together, support each other, and most importantly love each other to make it all work. That is what it is all about. The fact that people notice these things during this time of year? Because "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer" isn't something you hear any other time of the year. My kids each have four things on their Christmas lists this year. I have one...for them to hopefully know how much I love them, not only for who they are, but for making this time of year so very special to me.

...hopefully nobody saw...

...why do I start days like today in any other way than "...it's Thursday"? The fact that it is Christmas Eve, a full moon, and clearly where bizarre world meets chaos world somewhere in the nexus of the universe..."...it's Thursday" would have just made more sense.

Getting anyone anywhere in this house is like some TSA video of what could possibly go wrong. Mind you, if we are just going no where, we get there, no drama, anarchy or blood shed. If we have to be somewhere by a set time...forget it. Someone hates their shirt. Someone can't find their belt. Someone doesn't like their hair. Someone isn't tall enough...the list goes on. I even try to trick myself by pretending we need to be there earlier, all will run smoothly...never.

Now, today, like most holidays of this quarter, was spent with me nearly having a nervous breakdown of one more damned thing broken in this house that I don't know how to fix...Deep breathes were taken, gum vigorously chewed, and the announcement given that if one more expensive thing gets broken in this house, I'm out...they can just go it alone. Crazy threat I know, but seriously much better than the things running through my head earlier. So, I had a cocktail.

Tonight was different. It was Christmas Eve...I had signed us up to be greeters, readers, and Nora got to play the piano...all within 2 hours...seems easily accomplished. I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew when Atticus began giving death glares to anyone walking in. He then proceeded to spend the next two hours not so subtly letting anyone in a 4 foot radius know he didn't want to be there...Merry Freaking Christmas kid, was what it looked like people were thinking...I know I was.

Nora did a great job. She's sort of an interpretive piano player, and her piano teacher is very patient. Oscar did well reading, even though it looked like it freaked the bejesus out of him to do so. He was paid a few compliments on how much guts it takes to get up there and read. I'm not sure if it's pushed him into a new calling. But the most reverent part of the evening...the one time all year that you know probably holds a special place in some one's heart who attends church...the carrying of the baby Jesus to the manger...hopefully nobody saw...

Originally, Atticus was asked to carry the baby Jesus statue. I thought what a cool thing he gets to do? About 2 minutes into church and I thought, OH HECK NO is that going to work. Nora was bestowed the honor to which she high-fived an invisible person when she was told. Now, I didn't think I had to tell Nora what to do, she's seen it done before. She knew what an honor it was...It wasn't until she was walking the baby Jesus down the aisle and having it wave at everyone...Yeah, explanation was clearly needed...and yeah, people saw. I doubt we get asked next year. But, this year everyone was made to understand the notion, Jesus was friendly at birth*...Merry Christmas to you from our baby Jesus waving family...



*thank you Strock

...chocolate covered orange slices...

Time. I look at that word and it means a million things to me. This last month, time has been almost a curse word in the effort of finding more, using it wisely, and watching it fly past you like a screaming fire truck. But also, in the hustle and bustle of getting all of the "things" you think you need to get done during this time of year. "Time" has sort of  gently slapped me in the face a few frequently...like someone being awoken from an accidental sleep. "Time" has been reminding me of a few things that are just taken for granted in this house, not purposefully, merely in the effort to move forward.

I have this tiny human in my house. He is thoughtful, quiet at times, creative, curious, mischievous, stubborn, and at the heart of it all very loving. Today he came up to me, and I asked him what was wrong. He hugged me around the leg and said, "...nothing, just loving on you". He isn't old enough to know that it's uncool to show affection to his mom. He isn't old enough to understand that I'm all he has had in the way of a parent. He couldn't possibly remember his dad, of whom he takes after so greatly. I find myself wondering how in the world is it possible he's grown so much. Counting time has become a different process for me. It's before our life changed and after. It's hard for me to imagine that Atticus is the same age Nora was when Jason passed away. All this time, time...makes me wonder what might have been.

I feel like I've been given these little gifts lately...filling a void in the most unlikely of places. Someone will say something to me, or I will hear my kids say a phrase, and it seriously reminds me of Jason. I sit and think sometimes, I wonder what life would have been like with 6 people in this house...I cannot get to that point. It's like we had to start living our lives, and it's really all we know anymore. All the while understanding that moving forward didn't mean we weren't occasionally looking in the rearview mirror...but it's like we don't have to or it's unnecessary. Our lives are what they are because we have each other. Our memories are what we have made and continue to make together...however, the ever subtle nudges I get ever so gently, I know I'm being given a sign that someone on the other side is paying attention.

I am mentally making myself slow down...slow my mouth...slow my temper...slow my answers...slow my "time" down. I'm only going to get this time with my kids once. I'm only going to see the magic of this season in their eyes for a few more years. I'm only going to understand that what comes out of my mouth will really be what makes or breaks an evening. As I was putting Nora to bed tonight she asked if I would want to write a book for kids. I said, well I didn't know, I wasn't a kid and maybe I would need her help since she is. She said, "...well, the first thing I want to write about is how if you mess around at the dinner table and spill your milk, your mom is probably going to get pis....wait, I can't say that word, but I know you really were..." And, I mentally made a NOTE.

I feel like for the first time in a long while, my kids understand what this time of year is about. Maybe it's because there are more of them in school? Maybe because they are at an age where they understand our dynamic? My kids came home a little late from school the other day. Oscar walked right in, and put something in my stocking. I figured it was a school project that he fashioned into a Christmas treasure. As I was opening up Nora's said school-project-Christmas-treasure tonight, he asked if I wanted to open my gift in my stocking. I said I would wait. He then went on and on about how he spent his own money not at school to buy this gift, and they all went after school to get it...? I saw the pride on Oscar's face, a glint in his eye I hadn't ever seen before. They all were looking at me grinning, as if they all had this secret. I said, "...O M Gosh, you bought me chocolate covered orange slices?!" And they all started cheering!

In that moment...I felt like I was given possibly the best Christmas gift of all time. The notion that my kids, first of all, listened to anything I might have mentioned I liked. Found the money, perhaps that I didn't confiscate from the laundry. They went into a store, with the intention of making a purchase not for themselves. To me...that was a gift better than time...better than anything I will probably get this year, because it was a gift that was given straight to my heart. Someday, I hope my kids read this and understand that I know I'm not perfect. I know I mess up a lot. I know my temper is like that of someone at a wrestling match. But the one thing I do that is the most important thing, more important than time could ever give me...is loving them.

...tucked into my heart...

I have made a conscious effort. I seriously thought, looked, and took notice of what I was doing each evening so far in this month of December. Mentally taking note of the day, the time, the madness...not because I'm some over achiever mom who's Elf on the Shelf prowess is that outstanding. Not because I don't already know that half of the things I do this month are sort of on the extreme side. I take note, because this year, I only have one who knows the skinny on the big fat man. I take note because it's my favorite time of year despite the self-imposed-crap most put on ourselves. I take note because next year might be totally different...

There is a certain sort of magical feeling when the littlest of things that you try to do year after year become noticed. The little things that you tried to start, never knowing how much of a mess it would make...Never knowing how nearly you fell into a diabetic coma...the little things you started, in hopes that you were making memories. This is my time of year. This is the time of year when I can fall back on those tiny treasures of time. In the smallest of acts you are reminded that it's worth it. In the most minute of gestures you are shown that someone was paying attention. To me, that it what rounds out this time of year. To me it's the small things we've done together, that keep me going for the next year.

I was worried when Oscar no longer believed in Santa. He did his best to try to be "RIGHT" about the issue. Thankfully, he has finally realized that being right, doesn't always feel so good. He's realized, through subliminal and virtual speak, sometimes the magic of this year is seeing everyone else excited. The thrill of someone else, being all dough eyed, believing in something that's just out of reach. As I tried to explain to Oscar while we were alone the other day, it's a real lesson in life. You don't have to know you are good at something to be confident. You don't have to know the end of the story, to keep you reading. You don't have to touch something to know it's beauty. During this conversation, while I was hoping it made sense, it definitely reminded me to take my own advice.

Seeing a couple of kids scramble to see where their vertically challenged Elf has hidden. Hearing various versions of Christmas carols come out of barely understandable mouths. Watching the 'thrill' of just seeing the snow falling out the window. Hearing a 2 year old remind everyone that "...Santa is watching YOU!" Knowing that these moments, like all the others I've been told years down the road, will just be a whisper of my life someday. In these moments, when I'm about to lose my mind with trying to get everything done by Dec. 23rd...years from now won't really matter. So everyday, as I put a tiny treat into a numbered little pouch, I stop and look at the number. I stop and look at how many more there are left. Even with fevers, overnights, tantrums, freak-outs, back talk, runny noses, puke threats, and sleeplessness...I made a note and tucked it into my heart.

The thrill I find at the end of this year is what most adults dread, Christmas Vacation. To me, it's the seemingly endless adventures that await us, or even another day we veg out in our pajamas and do nothing...the choice is ours. It's snuggling on couches under blankets. It's making a mess decorating cookies. It's piling into the car in our pajamas, blaring Christmas music, looking at people's Christmas lights...and inadvertently becoming Peeping Toms from our car. There are plenty of things I could be sad about this time of year...listing them would just be redundant. Sure, sometimes those things bring me down...but this time of year for me, there are too many things...too many moments that can't necessarily happen the rest of the year. So I'm taking them and mentally hugging them...the good, the bad, and the ugly...because next year, might be totally different...

...you smell like beef and cheese, you don't smell like Santa...

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...

...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.

...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...