Tuesday, December 28, 2010

When I Was 30

When I was 30-years-old, I…


…gave birth to our son, Eric William…

…finished my first quilt…

…completed a cross-stitch sampler with my daughter Katie…

…took Katie to Disneyland for the first time in the spring…

…stayed overnight at Disneyland with Bill, Katie, Eric, and my mom and dad for Katie’s October birthday…

…officiated at my brother’s wedding…

….finished the coursework for my real estate license, and took and passed the exam…

…took Katie to her first swimming lessons while 8 months pregnant…

…said goodbye to the last of my three grandfathers…

…learned how to sew ballet skirts for my daughter…

…gave my daughter my childhood bed…

…earned my Competent Communicator award (completed ten speeches) at Toastmasters…

…gained my first freelance editing client…

…had fun at the Wild Animal Park with Katie…

…saw a blue moon on the New Year and the harvest moon in Autumn…

…spent many cozy moments with my daughter in the kitchen…

…danced and laughed in the rain…

…nursed Katie through her first significant bout of illness with her first high fever…

…shared time and lunches and love with Nana…

…took Katie to the zoo with Bill…

…had a big Clint Eastwood movie phase…

…went with Bill to take Katie to the snow for the first time in Idyllwild, and made snow angels, and loved that my romantic husband drew a heart with all of our handprints in it…

…saw friends from my CSUSM teaching cohort for the first time in many years…

…took Katie to ballet, music, gymnastics, and art classes…

…went to a bluegrass festival…

…transitioned Katie out of her daytime diapers…

…planned and enjoyed many, many arts and crafts projects for my daughter…

…celebrated my 4th marriage anniversary with my Bill, my loved and loving husband, in Idyllwild with an “Anniversarymoon” stay at our special inn…

…spent many warm days in the yard with Katie by the wading pool…

…picked blueberries off the bush…

…celebrated our 2nd annual Midsummer’s Eve…

….took Katie to see Beauty and the Beast, Hansel and Gretel, The Nutcracker, and A Christmas Carol performed at the local theater…

…started McGaugh Family Movie Night…

…became closer with some of my cousins…

…did well at nourishing some friendships and less well at nourishing others…

…Re-read Jane Eyre

…made hooded towels for my children…

…planted a vegetable, fruit, and herb garden…

…went apple picking in Julian…

…was at times hopeful and at times disappointed…but mostly hopeful…

…watched Katie fall in love with her brother at first sight…

…looked for the goodness…
…wondered about meaning…

…trusted in Love…

…fed the ducks…

…stumbled upon a Greek festival…

…sang loudly and with joy in my heart…

…examined myself for my flaws…

…tried my best…

….colored and drew pictures, built castles, made forts…

…savored days at the beach…

…discovered cinnamon frozen yogurt…

…stopped drinking coffee and tea for nine months…

…started coffee and tea back up again with more fervor than ever…

…sang my children to sleep at the same time…

…pressed the 3 AM moon into my heart as I held my newborn son…

…rubbed my nose in the beautiful scent of my daughter’s hair…

…realized that to hold Bill, Katie, and Eric is to hold the Universe…

…knew that I have only just begun to learn…


Today I turned 31. Life is going too fast... There is so much for which to be thankful, and so much yet still to do. These years with my children and husband are the best of life, and I wish I could keep them forever!

We began the day with breakfast at The Swing Inn Cafe in Old Town Temecula. After breakfast, all four of us went to one of our favorite parks and played. Bill played with Eric on the grass while Katie and I ran around and played Hide-n-Seek, Follow the Leader, and more. Yay for sunshine and slides!

In the afternoon and evening my parents came over. My mom, even though she has much on her mind and heart, still made the birthday dinner we had planned. It was delicious: French onion soup (my favorite soup), sausage and black bean calzones, and a citrus salad. For dessert: German chocolate cake. Yum! My mom was really loving to that...I know how tired she is and how hard this week has been for her. 

My parents and husband blessed me with more than I could ever dream of...a beautiful milk glass bowl from Julian, new linens for the bed and table from Bill, clothes, movies, and more... And from Bill, a coupon for an iPad 2.0 when they are released in spring (well, maybe spring). I think I officially have enough gifts to last all year, especially when we add Christmas, too! Now I will spend the rest of the year thinking about how to return the kindnesses to my family...
A few images from today:





Monday, December 27, 2010

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

In my last post, "Sleep in Heavenly Peace," I wrote of the sadder side of Christmas this year. I find that I am struggling to transition well from being focused on the loss of my Grandpa out of respect and mourning to acknowledging that there was also a joyful side to Christmas this year. Although the holiday was full of sorrow, there were moments of comfort and even excitement as Katie celebrated her fourth Christmas and Eric his first.

As we grow up, we realize that the heart must balance constantly joy and sorrow. We realize we must adapt to this, or we certainly must perish under the weight of losses yet to come. Celebrating the joyful moments in no way diminishes the respect I have for my Grandpa or loyalty I feel toward honoring the various emotions of my family.

In fact, we must celebrate and carry on with our traditions, as a means of honoring what came before.

The traditions and time together are the tidings of comfort and joy.

Because Grandpa Yoder had been making small improvements the day before, no one predicted on Christmas Eve morning the events of later that night.  Our Christmas Eve morning was festive, and we were looking forward to dressing up and seeing our family as we normally do for dinner at The Ritz in Newport Beach. We thought we would see Grandpa Yoder before dinner. Even though I worried that it might be the last time we spoke, the mood among family was hopeful that we might be able to have him with us a little longer. So our morning was relatively light.


Katie made our annual batch of "reindeer food" with oats, cinnamon, and glitter. Oh, she did have fun!

We had a festive Christmas Eve breakfast: panettone French toast drenched in an egg nog custard, eggs scrambled with cream, and ham.

Our Christmas Eve breakfast table set with Christmas Spode, everything felt especially merry. 
I was thrilled to have my own set this year, (a result of an amazing sale and a Macy's gift card) as I grew up on it and it brings back happy memories. My late Uncle Eric's tidbit tray was my first piece of Spode, and it is in the center of my table.We honor those who will always be a part of us.


This picture is really poignant for me. In the middle of dressing up in our fancier, more formal clothes for Christmas Eve dinner, my mom called and told me that Grandpa Yoder had taken a turn for the worse and that we needed to come to the hospital as soon as we could. In retrospect, it seems silly that I had the kids and Bill and myself still in our dinner clothes, but there was still hope that the situation would turn back around...and hope is never something to take for granted. Here, Katie is in her dinner dress, sprinkling our yard with our reindeer food. It was the only picture I took all night; there are none of Eric's first Christmas Eve. What really pulls at my heart is that my mom gave this dress to Katie as a gift over a year ago. It was too big last Christmas, even though the coat fit, and so we saved the for this Christmas... All month we talked about wearing it and how we would have dinner with our family and listen to the carolers in the restaurant again. So different from the reality of the evening...

Although my Bill, Katie, and Eric ate at the hospital, I was not the least bit hungry for most of the night...until we left. The knots in my stomach crashed down to a wave of hunger. Christmas Eve dinner for me was drive-thru McDonald's. Now, I enjoy McDonald's as much as anyone, but it was lonely and late and not what we had been imagining, not the tradition we had had for years...At first it was totally depressing, but the familiar taste of the meal I would have with Dad for lunch sometimes as a child actually turned out to be comforting on the car ride home.

On Christmas morning, Katie was excited to find that Santa had eaten most of our cookies, left bite marks in some, and guzzled all of his egg nog. She also discovered that Santa had tracked in some soot onto our hearth...and left a footprint in a pile of it. She thought that was pretty cool.

We opened our Santa gifts early on Christmas morning and then went to my mom and dad's house in our pajamas for a second Christmas morning with Uncle David and Aunt Ashley. I think of this year as the "Retro Christmas": Bill gifted me with the 2010 Holiday Barbie, an autoharp a la 1970s music teachers (I love it!!!), a necklace inscribed with the kiddos' names, and more. My mom and dad gave me a 1980s Speak and Spell from eBay---it was my FAVORITE toy for awhile growing up. I was thankful to receive cross stitch supplies and projects to do from my mom, and there were many other blessings. Even our Christmas dinner planned for my house was full of the "retro" and traditional food we used to have at my childhood Christmases once upon a time.

Christmas morning at my mom and dad's house.

Eric loved his Raggedy Andy, and he was rolling around with it.

Merry 1st Christmas, my baby boy.

Eric's first stocking, made by his Amie.

Christmas morning.
Opening gifts together for the first time. Katie is showing Eric his choo choo train.

It was a testament to my mom's strength and sense of tradition that she still made our Christmas breakfast, the way she always has. We always have her Christmas bread, sausage, omelets with cheese, and hot chocolate...it is delicious. None of us had had any sleep, and she was amazing for having the love for us to do this breakfast anyway.

More stockings at our house.
Presents from Santa.

There was joy even in the midst of the grief. And no, the joy wasn't in the presents---really neat-o presents this year that would have been even more fun to open any other year. The joy was in the fact that we still carried through our some of our traditions, that Santa could still come, that Katie was still excited. The greatest gifts this year were the closeness of our family, of working through cooking a Christmas meal that few of us felt like eating and actually laughing at how poorly we were executing it (my mom and I actually decent cooks, but we were really really off our game this year---in fact, we made SO many errors it was fairly hilarious). There can be laughter at ourselves even in the hardest moments. We were reminded of the very basic things we ought to be thankful for: family, love, shelter, food, time together.

Gather the joy in whatever way you can...

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

This was the most surreal and strangest Christmas I have ever experienced with my family. In parts, it was the most sad; at times is was truly joyful. At no other Christmas have I been so reminded of the love and light that buoys us all, though the path we travel may be at times so thick with fog and rain. We may not know why we are faced with those cold, dark, and seemingly unforgiving moments, but I do believe that when our actions are purely taken, and taken for the Good, then those gifts of the spirit forever ripple outward and lead to further good even if we never see it in our lifetimes.

I was reminded this Christmas how important it is to have family, to embrace family, to honor family. We know not any one of us is perfect---no one is---but the ranks of the family close together to struggle against the impossible. It was a blessing, also, to be reminded of the significance of tradition, of holding close the events of times and places as a way to honor those with whom we have shared those memories through the years.

Friends and readers, it has made my heart a little lighter these past few days to have your loving thoughts sent to me and my family. Thank you. As we sat in Hoag Hospital on Christmas Eve, I could feel your caring words lifting us up and helping to make the time even halfway endurable. One of the true Christmas gifts I received this year was feeling a connection to all of you, across space, sending goodness to us. No gift could be finer this Christmas, and the capacity for human empathy is one of our greatest gifts to give. May you always receive that empathy in return.

In the end, I watched a courageous man claim death with true dignity. By the time we got to the hospital, my Grandpa Yoder had taken a turn for the worse. He had been up and down all week, mostly making small improvements, but it was discovered on Christmas Eve that he had contracted pneumonia and that he soon would not be receiving enough oxygen from the oxygen mask. A decision had to be made about whether or not to put him on a ventilator. He faced that decision with strength and clarity: no, he did not want the ventilator, and yes, he knew he was going to die.

By accident, I saw that moment. I will always respect him for it, respect that he did not make his children decide. Uncle Tom had taken my brother David and I back to see Grandpa Yoder, and as we approached, we did not know that my mom and aunts and uncle were in the middle of asking for his wishes, or we would have waited further away out of respect. I will never forget the heartache and longing in my mom's voice at that moment...or many other poignant details of that moment that I think should remain among our family.

So, too, the moment my brother and I had together with our grandfather. I was reminded in that moment not only what it means to be a grand-daughter, but also a sister.

I said what I wanted to say to him: how grateful I have been for these past years, above all how thankful I am that he lived to see his great-grandchildren and to spend real time with them. I told him that Katie will always remember him, and I shared with him what she asked me to say. I had thought about bringing her in, but I decided that with his oxygen mask on it would be too scary for her. She asked later, unprompted, if he had known she was there wanting to see him. Oh yes, I said, he knew you came to be with him. I told him that I would tell Eric about him, that our memories of him would always continue. I thanked him for the family trips he took us on...and some other words. I kissed his hand many times, and I was struck at that moment with an intensity that rocked my core by how his hand had always been here but how I had never been able to bridge the formality between us to just grab it and kiss it before. We'd always kissed goodbye on the cheek. Why never the hand before? As Shakespeare wrote, "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Why do we not see how short the time is that we have together before it is too late? Why do we not let go of assumptions about people when we still have the chance? What would have been the worst that could have happened in our lives if I had just covered him with all the years of kisses I'd always felt?

It was a long night. Eventually I needed to take our children home, and I did not see the actual moment of his passing. I have heard that it was beautiful, beautiful and sad, peaceful, a time of hope. He died at 10:30pm on Christmas Eve.

We always saw him on Christmas Eve, that was one of our special times. It was surreal that this was the last Christmas Eve I will spend with him. It is too soon to tell in my grieving process whether or not that fact will make it better or worse, or if it will just be... I miss him. I keep picturing him in his house, and catching myself with the knowledge that he isn't there...

After I had Katie, and after I went back to work, I was able to use my FMLA leave time to take one day off per week even after I was back in the classroom. Those last months of teaching, I usually spent that day traveling with my mom and baby Kate to visit Nana or Great-Grandpa Yoder, one of them each week. I wanted her to know them both.

That was one of the better decisions I have made as a mother.

Gather joy in the time you have left with those you love. Do not let the days go by...

Monday, December 20, 2010

Castles in the Air

I was just on my way to bed after doing a little freelance editing work for one of my Toastmasters friends, but try as I might, my heart is too heavy to sleep without writing. In the midst of this season of Light, there comes stealing in at the corners an approaching darkness.

We learned today that my Grandpa Yoder is in the end stage of heart failure.

My mom and I learned it in a car full of groceries and anticipation for our Christmas dinner, a car filled with the sounds of Katie and Eric, a car dripping with rain, our hair wet, our minds elsewhere. I forgot to get the apples, of all things. We hugged and cried. There will be more tears.

And in this moment we are waiting. Waiting for the hollow in the stomach that comes with death, waiting for the thickness of throat. Waiting for the things that have never been said to perhaps be said, and yet fearing they will never be. Waiting to know: will we share one last Christmas Eve, or will we be grieving? Waiting for the unbearable glances across all the years. Waiting for the memories to fall down, and to be resurrected.

We wait, and in that waiting we wonder, I wonder: if I loved him imperfectly, and he loved me imperfectly, where is the redemption? Can one human being ever love another perfectly? I think we are all far too flawed.

I did not know him very well until just a few years ago, shortly after Katie was born. What I had yearned for all of my life, I finally had: moments to be with him that weren't for a special occasion or holiday, moments that wore jeans, moments watching my mom cut his hair on the back patio, moments of Oreo cookie crumbs on the floor, moments of Katie sitting on his bed in the family room and knowing nothing else except that she could be her glorious carefree self. The loud and lovely sounds of children playing: Katie and Violet, and just recently, Eric and Oliver. He has never been a man of many words---I shared many more with my other two grandfathers, both gone---but in recent years we had some conversations: he listened and remembered, remembered about me and what I thought.

No, all human love is imperfect, one to another. We get too caught up in the things that don't matter. But I know, too, that even in an imperfect whole, there are moments of perfection. Those are the moments and memories we carry with us. And so I set to the task of remembering: the days when my own dad, young and strong, built my playhouse in Yorba Linda---and what a playhouse!---with my Grandpa Yoder. I remember watching them carry the lumber and measure and cut it. I remember once when Grandpa Yoder sat at my little tea table and chairs and pretended to be my student. I was only six years old, but I showed him every one of my little reading books from Kindergarten, and I had him practice his reading.

It is tempting to make wishes, about the time we had or wish we could have had...

Thoreau wrote in his conclusion to Walden: "If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost; that is where they should be. Now put the foundations under them."

We can trust our perfect moments of love, even when our relationships are imperfect. A person can be the ideal we imagine, if we are willing to concede that the ideal shines through only in moments. It is our job to put the foundations beneath them, that is, to look for the good, to look for the best of the time we have shared. And to believe in those best moments, as if there had never been anything else.

When my Grandpa Mitchell died, I was in my most self-absorbed time, just starting college, not aware of how sick he really was despite signs I should have seen. In my world at the time, Death was not much of a character---just a lurker at the sidelines. When he died, I was in disbelief. To this day, I wish that I had hugged him even one second longer on that day I came to say goodbye to my grandparents before leaving for school. But I said goodbye just as I always did, with a hug that meant "I love you and I will see you again," and I remember heading out the door and thinking of almost nothing else but that I would get to see my then-boyfriend for a date that night. Silly girl, not to have known and caught up in herself and her plans. When people ask about regrets, I don't buy the line that we ought never to have any...

With Grandpa Don, I took more care and I knew I was seeing him for the last time. It was the best last time possible, a day of laughter and stories, of little Baby Kate playing with him and holding his hand. When we left, I got to say everything I wanted...there was nothing undone between us. We had spent years knowing each other, building the legacy of memory. I gave him our secret sign of love before I left---a squeeze of his foot beneath the blanket---and he winked at me. It was a moment of beauty in its own heartbreaking way. Yet when I broke down in the elevator, I was still young and naive enough, and willing enough, to believe the kind fib of my parents: we will go to see him next Tuesday, he will be all right a little while longer. The miracle of parents is that they so often know what a child needs to hear. Part of me knew my parents were just giving me hope...but that's what we do as parents. When Katie asks me if I am ever going to die and leave her, my answer is "no." Sometimes a child needs absolute comfort, more than she needs absolute knowledge.

But you can't kid a kidder this time. I know the way this plays out and the sadness to follow. There has got to be more to hope for than a hope for more time. Time takes us all; but what Time can never diminish is our hope for a Goodness that lasts, and a love that covers over all our imperfections. Build your castles in the air; trust in the perfection that has gleamed like the sun through the cracks in our hourglasses.

Gather your joy while you can.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Christmas Cookies!

This week is Christmas Cookie Week at the Matics and McGaugh households! With park time in the morning for the kiddos, my mom and I have had two afternoons of baking, filling our homes with the scent of Christmas, and teaching tradition to Katie and Eric.

Day 1 of our cookie baking took place at my mom's house yesterday afternoon. We made the dough for our decorated cookies (to be cut out and baked off and decorated later this week), dark chocolate-cherry-pepita-pistachio bark, peppermint bark, cranberry-white-chocolate-hazelnut-oatmeal cookies, anise biscotti dipped in chocolate, and almond crescents.

Day 2 was held at my house today. Listening to our Christmas carols, we made gingerbread, jam thumbprints, raspberry bars, neapolitans, and pfeffernusse.

Our Christmas cookie traditions go all the way to my childhood, and many of these recipes remind me of time in the kitchen with my mom. We didn't quite do our usual cookie baking last year, but this year we more than made up for it!

 Buddies with Boppa yesterday evening, while the last of the cookies and barks were cooling.

 Exploring his grandparents' Christmas tree...

 Helping Mommy roll pfeffernusse.

Getting sleepy in his carrier---he loves our Bjorn. I wish I'd had this for Katie!

 Helping Amie make the thumbprints.

 Grandmother and grand-daughter.

Earlier in the day: zesting a lemon.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Of Sense and Trust

  An excerpt from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens:

"You don't believe in me," observed the Ghost.

"I don't." said Scrooge.

"What evidence would you have of my reality, beyond that of your senses?"

"I don't know," said Scrooge.

"Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because," said Scrooge, "a little thing affects them. A slight disorder of the stomach makes them cheats.  You may be an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.  There's more of gravy than of grave about you, whatever you are!"

Scrooge was not much in the habit of cracking jokes, nor did he feel, in his heart, by any means waggish then.  The truth is, that he tried to be smart, as a means of distracting his own attention, and keeping down his terror; for the spectre's voice disturbed the very marrow in his bones."

It has been exactly one year since a friend of mine and I had a parting of the ways. She wrote something to me that hurt me deeply, something objectively fictitious with respect to facts, yet evidently true in her feelings of utter hatred at one moment of her life, designed to annihilate me at one moment of mine, and was a reaction to the hardships in her own life. I thought that I had done my best to shower my friend with love, and I thought that she knew it.  If I swallow my pride, though, I realize how much I try to distract my own attention, like Scrooge, from what most terrifies me. What if she actually didn't know how much I loved her? What if, in my own happiness and contentment with my life, I had missed every clue she had left along the way that she felt abandoned to her choices, without support from either me or other key people (several of us received angry statements, but mine was the most lengthy) at the moment that was most crucial? Are we, or are we not, our sisters' keepers?

I know now where my fault resides: I didn't pay quite enough attention to the emotion of things. I did not tend the garden of our relationship, because I assumed the garden had been founded in good soil and would grow well on its own. When I saw a couple of weeds sprout, I didn't pick them out myself because I feared confrontation and I thought, "She should know that I am not responsible for her choices" or "she should know that we love her and are trying to make her feel braced and embraced by all of us." The problem is, when we assume that people should know anything, we are taking the easy way out. We assume they know, when perhaps it us who fear the reality of how interconnected we all are. We should pick the weeds, even if we really think they are for others to pick.

She didn't feel loved, it turned out. She didn't know how I really felt, how Bill really felt, how many of us really felt. She didn't feel supported---although she will never know how, to those who questioned her decisions, I was truly one of her biggest defenders. Anyone will verify that. She didn't feel supported, despite all of my intentions over the years to create that feeling. Where did I fail? Why did I become an object of hatred? What went wrong? These are the questions that I have asked all year.

The part of me that "tried to be smart" as "a means of keeping down [my] terror" reviewed all the facts of the history of our relationship. I spent hours and days refuting each statement of her message to me, but only in my own mind or to those who knew of what happened. Some statements were preposterous, created only to hurt and not for the truth of the matter. But the emotion behind them was her truth... We can refute facts all we wish, even hide behind the counterarguments we make, but when someone is hurting, he or she hurts and it is that person's inner truth. She was hurt, probably not because of anything I did, but because of the things I didn't do. Things I didn't even know she needed me to do. How could I know? Is it our job to know, when it comes to those we love? Readers, to what extent are we accountable to those we love for the knowledge we don't have? It turns out, we are totally accountable in their eyes even if we could make arguments all day about why we are not. Subjectivity. Do we trust our senses?

Yes, friends, I have had this secret all year. This year has been, in some many ways, the most difficult of my life. Friends and family, my husband, all have reassured me many times that I was not at fault, that we cannot make for others the happiness they are lacking. It embarrasses me even to write about it.

It was easier all year to pretend it never happened.

But I miss my friend, miss who she was, or who I thought she was. It would be nearly impossible, sometimes I feel, to trust her now. Yet I wish so badly that we could get back to where we were. I wish we could erase the writing between us. Those words seared into my mind, long after I destroyed the copy of my letter. And all the while, time is ticking away... Memories being missed together... People growing up and growing old...

My question this year: What is the nature of forgiveness? Does it really exist? At times I have felt it toward her, despite the total absence of any attempt at an apology from her for a letter that she knows (because someone wrote to her on my behalf) was deeply hurtful. At times, I have been flushed with anger just thinking about it. There is not room for both anger and forgiveness to exist in one's heart. I have had to choose, or at least know that I am still in the process of choosing. Part of my process is sharing this tale before the world and admitting that, yes, there was a perfect storm of circumstances leading up to our parting last year, a perfect storm in which I had a part. I had a part in it because she feels I did, and that is enough---because we are all connected. She may never know how much, even to the end, and even still now (despite what she did), I am still her advocate. That's how much I really did love her.

I am still her advocate because, for some others who read her letter to me, the anger is still present in their minds and hearts. I am not a perfect person, but I am a decent person who has good intentions toward others. Those who love me most want to protect that in me. Yet decency brings me to understand that it does not matter what our intentions are toward others if they are unable to receive them, or if those intentions aren't communicated with effectiveness. I was obviously not effective here, with her. I can be in my own world sometimes. I am more prone to celebrate the joy of others than to walk with them step by step in sorrow, which is probably, to some ways of looking at it, selfish. I don't have a high tolerance for pain and sorrow, in myself or in others---I just assume that we can all pick ourselves up by the bootstraps and move forward without dwelling. To some this comes across as optimistic and to others this must come across as not compassionate, or even callous. I actually feel quite a bit of compassion toward others, but I always draw the line at pity. To me, showing pity is offensive to others, and receiving pity would offend me. I have always felt this way. Pity would mean I would think of you as incapable of pulling yourself out of your troubles. I think of you as quite capable... But some people want a little pity; to some, it may even be a way to say "I love you."

Trusting our senses, trusting our memories even, has been a theme for me this week. My daughter has watched A Christmas Carol about a million times, and yet it only dawned on me yesterday that Marley's question about Scrooge trusting his senses is a theme that repeated itself in two of the three speeches at Toastmasters this week.

Tara Fall spoke about cherishing our memories, holding them dear as if knowing that at any moment they could be gone. What if the faces that go with those memories fade away? Or in the case of my friend, what if so much time goes by that everything I remembered about her changes?

Tara, more than anyone, made me pause this week to think about how the memories we make become a major part of the narrative structure of our lives. What narrative do we wish for ourselves? And what narrative are we really writing, word by word? Or in the case of Ebenezer Scrooge, how long is the chain that we have forged in our lives? Isn't mankind our business, to paraphrase Dickens? How do I take this feeling, and begin to put salve on the wound between my friend and myself?

Are we responsible for those wounds on a universal, moral level even at times when we think we are not?

Jerone Lee, another speaker at Toastmasters, gave a beautifully researched and performed speech on the nature of magic. He demonstrated several tricks, which still have me thinking... In fact, he called me up to be one of his helpers. I have no idea how he did it, but he made two foam bunnies appear in my hand, when I was certain I was only holding one.

My senses, my intellect, told me one thing---but the reality was different. I thought I had one bunny, but I really had two.

I have thought for most of the year that I was blameless, but now I am not so sure. When we refuse to see the hurt others bear, or when we think their hurt is their own to palliate, perhaps we are as guilty as Scrooge.

By what magic will this story resolve itself happily?

I have, this one year, learned more about myself, about love, about fate and free will, about connecting, about the places where logic fails, and where logic sustains, about emotions I never wish to see again in myself, about the grace and beauty of the people who know and love me, and about examining my shortcomings---more about all these facets of life than I ever learned, or will ever learn, in any book I've ever read.

And for all that learning, I have not finished yet. Tonight, on the eve of when it all happened, I feel that pang most keenly of all.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Snowflakes, Army Crawling, and Carolers

Over thirty years ago, my mom cut out five snowflakes from paper, attached them to ribbons, and tacked them above my crib for my first Christmas. Six years later, she did the same for my brother David. Each year that we lived with my mom and dad, we slept under our snowflakes at Christmastime. I remember many Christmastime nights, looking at the shadows of my snowflakes on the ceiling, shadows cast by the little lighted tree I had on my nightstand.

When Katie was born, I knew I wanted to continue this tradition started by my mother. I still remember sitting in the family room of our previous house and cutting them out for her.

This is a picture taken in December of 2007, right after we put up Katie's snowflakes. She was only a little over a month old, my sweet baby.

This week, the time came to make Eric's snowflakes. Because I have grown into even more of a worrier, I didn't hang them over his crib (I am afraid one of the tacks will come out, the ribbon will fall down, and that he will get tangled in it at night---silly, I know, but parents have to be silly because it is our job to be). My mom therefore had the good idea to hang them over his changing table, where he can see them all the time when he gets changed.

Katie and I worked on snowflake making over the span of a few days in the playroom. I let her use safety scissors to cut scraps of paper while I worked. Eric played nearby, practicing his army crawl. Today, I finally had them all assembled with the ribbons and had a moment to hang them up:

 Eric looks at his snowflakes.

The tradition lives on...I wonder if my children will one day make snowflakes for their children?

Eric  is starting to be on-the-move. I can see now that the challenges of having two children age three and age four months are going to involve my needing to grow two more heads and about three more pair of arms. I thought safety-proofing the house for one mobile child was a big task...now we have so many more little toys and figures and small things to think about being on the floor where Eric might have access to them if we are not constantly mindful. I am very excited that he is curious---he is showing intentionality about wanting to get places and has the cutest little "I am going to get that thing" face that he makes---and persistent in his efforts. I am just hoping we fall easily into the new patterns and rhythms his mobility will require of us.

I believe, however, that we will. At each stage of being a mother, when routines or patterns have had to change (such as moving into a two-story house from a single story, or going from one child to having a toddler and a newborn), things have always worked out. New patterns of movement or new routines have always been established. Our whole afternoon and evening routine has changed now that Eric is here---and you know what? It is nicer. No, I never (and I do mean never) watch anything on TV when it actually airs anymore (I don't usually stay up that late now and most the hour between 7:30 and 8:30 is spent getting the kiddos to sleep), but that's what our DVR is for. I just have to be far more choosy about what entertainment I will allow to occupy precious time. I am often up to see the sunrise. Katie and I sometimes get five books together at night and sometimes just one...but there is even more singing in our house now than there was, and there was quite a bit before. I used to cuddle her and read to her in the cozy chair downstairs, and now we do that in her own bed (and I never thought I'd find something as good as our cozy chair time and yet I have). Each stage and each adaptation is beautiful and happy in its own right. I have learned to take each phase as it comes and make the most of whatever is required of me or us. Coziness and contentment are states of mind and heart. We will find a way to adapt to Eric's new mobility---we have to.


Eric was practicing his army crawl in Katie's room this morning while Katie cheered him on!

Finally, we had an art project today. I am trying to fit in one extra special, totally Christmassy event or project each day until Christmas Eve. It could be a project, baking, a wintry activity, etc. I am probably crazy to make this a goal, but I want this December to be memorable and magical for my daughter and full of the sounds, scents, and feel of Christmas for Eric. Christmas in the heart keeps a person childlike. I knew someone for most of my life who had Christmas in his heart more than most anybody else I ever met. I want to give that spirit to my children.

We made a trio of Christmas carolers today:

Katie with our project....

Another great and easy idea from Disney's Family Fun magazine, these carolers are extremely affordable: in fact, they were free because we had everything on hand. We cut a paper towel roll into three sections, painted each section together, and printed off the sheet music for Joy to the World from an image online. We used construction paper for the faces and mittens. Pairs of socks that no longer fit made the hats.

I usually take more pictures of our art process, but it was a little difficult to fit that in, especially since I had Toastmasters this morning, too. Oh well. But we did snap a couple of our finished product, which are set on the table by the Christmas tree. A fun craft to make the day full of Christmas happiness!

Festivity

We have been celebrating December with joy in our hearts, Christmas songs (we love the a cappella group Straight No Chaser and several other favorites) on our playlist, and at least one special festive project or activity each day. My goal is to do something Christmassy each day until Christmas Eve, but we'll see how that goes... In the meantime we have been reading Christmas stories by our tree and enjoying our traditions this week.

DECEMBER 1st: Get The Tree Day

 We began the first day of December with our "cone-iferous" advent calendar of course. Katie loved the Hershey's Kiss hiding underneath. Then we took a picnic breakfast to one of our favorite parks and ate and played "hide-n-seek." I have Eric zoom around in my arms to find his sister, and we all have fun with that game. We then went back home and met my dad, who helped us get our tree this year.

 A little out of order...but this was after we'd finished decorating. We relaxed with candy canes and danced to The Nutcracker (which we saw on Thanksgiving weekend). Katie loves the Chinese Dance and Russian Dance. I spin her very fast on the Russian Dance.

Santa's little helper!
Katie picked out an angel for the top of our tree this year, as our star had a habit of bending over. We love our angel.
With the kiddos in our Christmas jammies before bed, enjoying our tree.

Picking out the tree together---Eric's first tree!


DECEMBER 2nd: Making Fudge

Katie, Eric, and I made fudge on this day, and then we took some of it to our TVHS friends at the book club meeting. I have decided that I cannot be trusted around fudge this year. I might make another batch for our party this weekend, but I have to figure out a way to make sure that most of it is eaten by other people. I think fudge might be my biggest craving this season so far...

DECEMBER 3rd: Ice Skating

On Friday we went ice skating at the rink in Old Town Temecula. There is so much Christmas spirit in our city, and everywhere there are seasonal things to see and do and enjoy. I have only ever been ice skating twice (as of Friday) in my life, and this was Katie's first time. My mom has more experience, and she helped to teach Katie. Although Katie was a little unsure of her feelings about ice skating, she has since talked about wanting to go again several times. I loved it this time, and I am eager to try again, too. I always think of the Vince Guaraldi Trio's "Skating" composition for A Charlie Brown Christmas when I think of ice skating.

 We warmed up to get a feel for our blades.

 After a few turns around the wall, Katie was ready to explore: she pulled me out into the center! I was super motivated not to fall because I didn't want to pull Katie down. We did fairly well balancing together.

 
Hey, is this easy?

DECEMBER 4th: A Christmas Carol at the Old Town Theater

Ever since we bought tickets to see A Christmas Carol, I have been telling Katie pieces of this famous Dickens tale to prepare her for her theater experience, and we have also watched the Patrick Stewart version. Something about the story resonates with Katie, and it is, by FAR, her favorite Christmas story, movie, etc. this year. For a couple of weeks now, she has had us playing in the role of Marley and Scrooge---almost constantly when we are free-playing at home. She has even gotten into some Dickens' language, and I have explained some of the similes and old expressions to her. She does not like the Ghost of Christmas Future, so we leave that one out usually. I am tickled silly, of course, being an English major and teacher, that she loves Dickens' work and understands it. Moreso, it gives us a way to talk about some important Christmas themes: compassion, charity, humility, grace, joy, Christmas spirit in the heart, etc.

We went to see the live performance with my mom on Saturday:
 Watching the orchestra tune before the performance begins.

 Pretty ladies after the show.
 Excited for the show to begin.
 Looking at my daughter with contentment.

Katie and Max, the Grinch's dog. Katie likes how The Grinch, of course, has much in common with Scrooge.

DECEMBER 5th: Gingerbread House Day

We make a gingerbread house every year! I don't have a picture of the finished house yet, but here are a few from our day on Sunday.

 The kiddos and I walked to one of our favorite parks for some playtime.

 Walking home, we crunch the leaves and sing a "crunch the leaves" song.

Katie begins to decorate our gingerbread house.

DECEMBER 6th: Christmas Present Shopping Day

My mom and I had our annual "Christmas Shopping at the Mall" Day on Monday. I try to avoid the mall lately, and I have done almost all of my Christmas shopping online this year (it is much easier, with two kiddos). Still, I had one exchange gift left to get at Williams-Sonoma and was also looking for a Christmas Eve outfit. It was a marathon Christmas shopping day. I used an old Macy's gift card on some more Christmas tree Spode for our Christmas Eve breakfast, and I also found Eric's "Baby's First Christmas" ornament this year. Very exciting purchases, and the gift cards took some of the edge off.

Eric and Katie also met Santa!

 Waiting in line to meet Santa....

 Happy to meet Santa! Santa was magical this year---there has even been a good editorial written about this Santa in the local paper this year. He seems uncommonly kind and gentle and patient, and when I talked with him he had a twinkle in his eye. He told me how much it meant to him to be Eric's "first" Santa---that was really neat and I could tell that feeling was coming from his heart. I saw him be patient and kind with the children in front of us, even getting on the floor for one who was especially scared. It was fascinating that Katie liked this Santa. She had the opportunity to meet "Santa" last year and said she could tell that one wasn't real (at two-years-old!!!), but she took one look at this Santa, and she was convinced. He even had me believing again...

I love this picture of both of them. This is one good Santa this year. Temecula got lucky that Santa is taking time from his North Pole duties to come visit our city!


This is a time for a festive heart! Happy Christmas season to everyone!