Santa Who?

I swear to you that I don’t set out to be different. I don’t wake up in the morning and think, “Gee, how can I make myself stand out today. I was hoping people would look at me funny.” Regardless, I have found that this holiday season in particular has made me feel alone in a world I don’t understand. I will try to explain…

            Here are three things about me that you will need to know for this story. First, I am a Christian. Second, I am a private person. Third, I have a 2-year-old son. Your need to know this information will hopefully make sense by the time you’re done reading.

            I am a Christian. This means I believe in the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. I believe he lived on this earth, having been sent by his Father, Our God In Heaven. I believe that he died as an eternal sacrifice for my sins and that I am forgiven because of this sacrifice. This makes me feel pretty strongly about his birthday, which I happen to be celebrating tomorrow. However, I’m not celebrating by telling my son a story about a man that will be coming to our house while we are asleep in order to bring us presents. I’m celebrating how I would celebrate any birthday. Family, food, desserts, and gifts. Except, instead of giving Jesus gifts (he’s impossible to buy for), we give each other gifts to acknowledge our appreciation and love for one another.

            I am a private person. The words I just wrote may surprise some of the people that know me. That would be because I choose not to shout them from the rooftops. But the bottom line is that I’ve always felt this way. Way before I ever had plans to have children, I knew what Christmas was about and how I would choose to celebrate it. However, I never tried to convince anyone that I was somehow right, and they were somehow wrong. I feel strongly against lying to children. I don’t play tricks, I don’t prank, and I don’t lie, even for “jokes”. How then could I look a child in the face and work so hard to convince him something is true, when it’s not? And how could I then expect that child to believe me when I tell him about Jesus and God…other things that he can’t see but is expected to take “on faith”? Given this conundrum, I made a personal decision to just leave Santa out of Christmas. Again, this occurred long ago. It’s only becoming an issue now because of my beautiful son.

          

           I have a 2-year-old. This means that every person that talks to him in the month of December asks him about Santa. And when he doesn’t respond the way he’s expected to, they give me that side glance like, “He doesn't know Santa?” My response? Smile and shrug. However, my inside voice says, “Hey, don't look at me like I'm nuts just because I’ve decided that the Santa hubbub is a distraction from what I actually wish my child to understand about the season.  But that private person prevails and I just breathe…smile…shrug.

            So, here’s my declaration to this cultural phenomenon. I will never tell you how I wish to celebrate Christmas as loudly as you tell me how you think I should celebrate Christmas. However, that doesn’t mean that I don’t feel strongly about it. And I won’t be swayed. This means everything to me. My Child. My God. My Savior. This is Christmas.

Happy Birthday, Jesus. 

Gracie's Story

Our story begins many years ago. A young black greyhound was transported from Florida to Maryland to be adopted. She ran a few races but wasn't much interested in that lifestyle so retired early; ready to be a couch potato for someone special. She lay waiting in a bed of fall leaves the day I arrived to bring her into my life. 

Self-defined as “not a dog person”, I was attracted to the breed for their calm nature. “You mean they almost never bark and spend much of their time lying around relaxing? Sign me up!” I remember teasing myself for buying a cat in dog’s clothes. But she was more than that. She was my friend.

Bringing her home came with a list of instructions. First up, always, always and I mean always use a leash when outdoors. Okay, got it. On our first potty break I had the leash wrapped up just like they told me. At the time, I lived on a second floor apartment and racing greyhounds do not learn how to climb (or descend) stairs. So as we walked out of our door and looked down the stairs, she definitely gave me that “What am I supposed to do now?” look. I coaxed her a bit and she decided to take her best shot, which was a flying LEAP down the stairs. It took her two bounds to go down 11 stairs. And since I was securely attached to her leash, I went tumbling after. That was our first day together. November 10, 2001. 

I spent the next three weeks unable to walk due to a foot injury. Turns out that is plenty of bonding time because we were inseparable after that. We had our struggles with house training since they don’t teach that at the racetrack either. But I noticed the more love she got, the less pee on the floor. Alright, she’s got attitude…just like her mommy.

Over the next 11 years, we traveled numerous times back and forth from Maryland to Michigan to visit family. After finally moving back to Michigan, I relocated four more times. She became so used to moving that home was wherever I was. As long as I was there, she could adjust. Her separation anxiety was most apparent when she would stand in front of me and lean in whenever she saw a suitcase, as if to say, “You aren't going anywhere without me, Sister!”.

She was 8 years old when I married Dan and all of a sudden there were kids. Small ones. Running around, playing, being noisy, and occasionally falling on top of her. She faithfully stepped aside a bit, allowing them to take my attention, knowing they were important to me. That’s not to say that we didn't have a resurgence of her peepee attitude, but I still loved her and felt guilty for being too busy to just lay with her on the couch like the old days. With the bringing home of a new baby, the poor thing had to step further aside as my attention and time was consumed. Regardless of my life having changed from the days of just her and me, she remained ever faithful. She would simply and quietly just be wherever I was. With all of this said, I would like to openly and publicly thank Ms. Gracie for being my companion through a time in my life when she was the only thing that didn't change. I thanked her the day she died and this post will forever remind me of what she meant to my life. 

A Mother

It’s easy to recall a time and place when I was not a mother. I spent over 30 years NOT being a mother. My own mom would tell you (if you asked) that she’s frankly surprised I ever got around to wanting children. “Too independent”, she may say. At that, I cannot deny. A mother knows…she saw it my whole life. She saw me turn to rely on myself through the loss of friendships, boyfriends, and even a marriage. She saw me strive to achieve personal goals that were all mine. I remember that young woman who felt a strong pull to be close to others, at the same time fearing that she would ultimately be on her own...so should prepare for it. Where did that come from? I have some notions but that type of disclosure is not for this venue.

Despite the independence, I did open my life to a family who is now mine. Dan, Emily, and Dylan became mine on December 30^th, 2007. My life (and my independence) changed that day. I was incorporated into lives of children that were not part of me by blood…but by love. My world flipped at that point. I was no longer a child. A 31-year-old child. I was a parent. Not yet the mother I am today, but a mother nonetheless. Independence was no longer an option. Adorable, funny, intelligent children depended on me to be someone I had no idea how to be. Sure, I knew what a mother does. But I didn’t know how a mother feels. I didn’t know how to define myself as a mother. Having kids that are kinda yours and totally someone else’s muddles up your feelings quite a bit. Looking back, I struggled with this more than I let on…maybe even more than I realized myself.

While I’m still working on my own identity as mom, I feel I have benefited from those years of being just me. I put time and energy into learning about myself and getting comfortable with me. Happy with me. This gave me the foundation I needed to choose to have a child not to fulfill some selfish need for someone to love and depend on me, but rather to put my life and energy into the fulfillment of someone else. All of a sudden, it made sense. But it wasn’t until I saw who I was to my son that I could truly see who I was to all my children.  It was there before. I just didn’t see it, because I didn’t know. And I didn’t know because I couldn’t know. Something happened to me when I saw my son for the first time that redefined me as a person that I had never been before. I have put a lot of energy into figuring out the “new me” and wonder sometimes if I’m doing a good job. My mother would tell me not to worry about it, I’m doing fine, and that she’s proud of me. Because that’s what I need to hear…so that what she needs to say. Yeah, I get it now. 

Here’s to that redefining moment that happened two years ago tomorrow. Happy Birthday, Cole. 

Just Us

Like most families, Dan and I tend to jam-pack every spring and summer with tons of activities as we break out of winters cold. Even if we wanted to “relax a little”, those spaces are hard to come by with a toddler and two very active school-aged kids. There is soccer, baseball, and softball for the kids, as well as softball for dad and outdoor playtime for baby. We are “on the go” pretty much all of the time. After things settle in for the evening, my husband and I might sneak in a 30 minute TV show that we recorded on DVR 2 months ago. Not surprisingly, that doesn’t feel like enough time to stay connected to each other. We find ourselves having loads of misunderstandings because we tend to organize our lives over some form of electronic messaging or while talking over rambunctious and relatively needy children. It’s exhausting. To top it off, Dan and I have don’t vacation. We didn’t honeymoon and we don’t have “date night”. For better or for worse, I’m too much of a miser to spend money we don’t have on things we don’t “need”. Dan and I have agreed that we would rather spend our extra money working our house into a little oasis. That way, we can enjoy our time at home, rather than spend money going somewhere else to enjoy ourselves. (Also, I like sleeping in my own bed J) With this in mind, last year we opened up the floor plan in our house so that we can enjoy indoor time. This year, we built a patio in the backyard so we can enjoy outdoor time. We have our own backyard fire pit and lately we’ve been staying up a little later than usual, sitting by the fire, chatting, and just being together. That’s been nice…very nice. 

Here's our newly finished backyard oasis complete with swing and fire pit. 

In fact, one of those evenings it crossed our minds that although our plan for at-home “staycations” was a wonderful plan, wouldn’t we both like to just be away by ourselves with minimal responsibility beyond eating a few times a day? 

Our answer to that quandry?

Yes, we would like that. We really would. So we devised a plan to go away for our birthday this year. And guess what? 

That’s THIS WEEK!                 

So, the plan you ask? Taking our tent, air mattress, wood, and bare food essentials to a campground and “set up shop” for a couple days. Only eat what we can cook over a fire or store in a cooler. We found a spot on the Rifle River where we can float downriver on a tube all day and the campground will pick us up to take us back. Extra bonus: the campsite is free through a family membership. There is undoubtedly some who are reading this and thinking it sounds more like a nightmare than a vacation but me...I love to take away the layers of how complicated life has gotten and just do nothing...a wonderful, beautiful, nothing. No agenda or schedule...no plan and no hassle. Most of all, I want to spend that nothing with someone I love, appreciate, value, respect, and overall adore. 

So with that settled, we did our grocery shopping last night while taming the toddler-sized shrew with a sucker in the front of the shopping cart. In three days, we will be celebrating our birthday, each other, and taking a vacation we can easily afford. I’m feeling more relaxed just thinking about it. Sure, we will be without baby boy for the longest time since his birth, but I have confidence that I will survive. 

After four years without a vacation built for two…yeah…I’ll survive. 

My Former Self

It’s been five months since I started using a handy little app for my Kindle Fire called “Ultimate Value Diary Plus”. It uses the point system of the Weight Watchers program, which was something I was unfamiliar with but willing to try. My weight has followed a very common course of slowly creeping up as I age. I’ve had previous success in losing some of the extra pounds and did relatively well during pregnancy. But last year, after I stopped breast feeding in August, I became very aware of how much my habits had changed when I quickly gained 10 pounds by Christmas! I realized just how easy it was to quickly lose control over your weight. I set out to simply lose the 10 that I had gained and call myself successful. With that goal in mind, I started using the app to log my food and exercise and start playing “the point game”.

It was hard at first. I felt hungry ALL THE TIME for the first two weeks. But after that, I felt great. In those two weeks, I had lost 4 pounds and that was enough to stay motivated. Within 6 weeks, I had met my goal. 10 pounds gone. Since then, amazingly another 10. No tricks, No gimmicks. The app simply informed me of what food choices I was making that were really busting my diet. I began to make better food choices in an effort to stay under my “point limit”.  In five months, I have become a 36-year-old version of the old me. I sit in amazement at what this little app did for my life (Yay, technology because I guarantee I wouldn’t have done all this on paper). It’s also changing the lives of my loved ones. I passed the little app on to my mom who also got a Kindle Fire for Christmas. As of today, she’s well on her way to meeting her own personal goal WAY before her deadline. A recent annual visit had her doctor singing her praises for the progress she has made already.  

So I share today with one goal in mind. Express my sincere gratitude for my family, who went together and bought me a Kindle Fire for Christmas. I thank my sister-in-law Jenny for inspiring me to try the weight watchers system (Her story is TRULY amazing). And to spread the word that this was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. The app did much of the work for me. I just had to be faithful in logging and honest about what I ate. So, for all of you tech geeks out there who use at least 5 different apps to waste time; how about trying one that will be WORTH your time.

My version is for Android users, but it's also available for the iPhone folks. Happy summer everyone. Where’s my swimsuit?!

Goodbyes

After months of deliberating, Dan and I finally decided to give our whippet Mikey to a rescue organization. We found a wonderful foster family who would keep him in their home with their other dogs until he was adopted. He would have free rein of multiple dog beds, couches, and playtime with other animals. We knew it would be great for him and better than we had been able to provide for quite some time.

Here's the handsome guy himself. Goodbye Mikey!

The harder part? Explaining it to the kids.

I knew right away that it would be best for them to come with us to drop him off, see where he was staying and how nice it would be for him. Both of them were happy with that. They even understood why Mikey would be better off with this family rather than ours. What they didn’t understand is why they would never see Mikey again. Each of them expressed contentment with the decision until they asked about whether they could go visit. I could barely look at them while saying, “No, he will need to bond with his new family”. They each kept a stiff upper lip and expressed discontent but not horror, outrage, or any other perfectly understandable emotion.

That is, until we piled back into the van without Mikey.

A quick peripheral glance towards the backseat found Emily facing the other direction, trying to hide her tears. Seeing her upset, tears welled up in my own eyes and I quickly told her that it was okay to be sad. I moved myself to the back, sat next to her, put my arm around her, and let her cry. Which she did…the entire way home. Not the dramatic cry of a child throwing a fit. Emily is nine. She doesn’t really throw fits anymore. But she silently sniffled while she thought of how this loss affected her. I asked her about her thoughts. At first she didn’t want to talk about it, which I accepted. Shortly thereafter, her words flowed much like her tears as she made sense out of those difficult feelings. And to me, that was the point of bringing them along. I knew it would be difficult but there was a teachable moment where I knew I could help Emily process and cope with her difficult feelings. This skill is so necessary to develop when they are young. The difficult emotions that await them in adolescence won’t be quite so overwhelming if they’ve learned that emotions are okay to have, okay to talk about, and do not have to be feared/avoided. That’s what I want for my children. I cannot prevent them from feeling bad but I can show them how to feel better. As for Dylan…stone-faced most of the way home. Then he burst into tears as soon as his mom greeted him that evening. Sometimes, a boy just needs his mommy. I accept that too. 

The Melancholy Dragon

For those of you familiar with Florence Littauer’s personality profiles, I am nearly equal parts Peaceful Phlegmatic and Perfect Melancholy. For the unfamiliar, this simply means that I have tendencies to be introverted, analytical, observant, and pessimistic. The melancholy part of me is detail-oriented, organized, thorough, scheduled, and solution-focused. The phlegmatic part of me is consistent, relaxed, quiet, and agreeable. On most days, my peaceful side trumps my perfectionistic side and I find this has served me well overall. But three weeks ago, my son began spending his weekday time with people other than his parents. Three half days in day care and eager grandparents the rest of the time. This situation had just the right portions of uncertainty, lack of control, and anxiety to wake my sleepy melancholy dragon and call it forth to take over.  As soon as we heard that Dan was going to start daytime work and that we needed to organize daycare for Cole, that dragon reared its head to take control of the situation and make sure everything was absolutely and perfectly organized. I haven’t seen that peaceful phlegmatic since.

The process began with the daycare tours. I scheduled them ahead of time and we took a day or two to walk through classrooms, talk with teachers, read through brochures, ask questions, and process our reactions to each one. We followed up with grandparents (Cole has three full sets of them) to see what type of schedule they could commit to. Once it was settled, I made out a pick-up/drop off schedule for an entire month, a copy going to each grandparent with their specific schedule highlighted for them. Along with this schedule was a daily schedule for Cole, including when he gets up, eats, and sleeps, as well as food choices and diaper changes. “Did I miss anything?” the dragon asks. “I don’t think so. You can go back to sleep” I reply. But now that she’s all roused up, she keeps poking her head up, “How about now? Need anything?” 

“Everything is alright. I assure you”, is my response. Over and over again. Every time that pull of anxiousness tugs at my core, I say it. “Everything is alright. I assure you”.

With each passing day, it gets easier to lay that dragon down. I need her. There’s no doubt about that…but not today. Please let my laid back, easy-going, peaceful self come back and shine on. Quite frankly, she’s more fun to be around. But don’t tell the dragon I said that. J



Here we are on Cole's first day of "school". That bewildered look, which is so unnatural for Cole clearly states, "So, you're leaving me here? With these people?"



My Eternal Valentine

            Many years ago, at the beginning of a new school year, a 13-year-old boy sat behind a 13-year-old girl in 8^th grade English class. Being a nice boy interested in a nice girl, there were lots of jokes and laughing before, after, and during class. Not much else to speak of except for recollections of “that’s when we met”. Freshman year art class came and went with collaborative projects and good times securing our place in “the friend zone”. Until one day, sophomore year, that boy asked another friend what she thought about his chances with that girl. She gave him just the confidence he needed to ask that girl to the next high school dance that just happened to be associated with Valentine’s Day. She readily accepted his invitation and that became “the beginning”. At the dance, they did their first slow-dance to Bryan Adams, “(Everything I do) I do it for you”, which became their song.

The excitement and energy of the following 12 months is simply immeasurable. To this day, they can both recall various moments that have been burned into their memories due to the lasting effects on their lives. I can attest that the aftermath of that time was considerably painful for her because like most first loves, it became history. Over the next year, they were able to reach a place where a friendship flourished. However, the elements of intimacy and the energy of love were always there; making it rather uncomfortable to spend too much time together. Under that strain, they inevitably moved on with their post-high school lives and registered each other as firmly rooted in “the past”. Although each will admit that they remained emotionally reminiscent every time they happened to hear that Bryan Adams song.

           

Fast forward 10 years through incredibly ugly times, not even worth mentioning in a Valentine’s post kind of times. That boy and that girl, forever changed by their circumstances, barely recognizable as their former selves, find each other again.

See!                               

I’m almost embarrassed to say that it all started again with a Google search. I’m sure plenty of long lost loves have similar stories that include a Facebook search but for us, it was Google. What I most noticed about him when we finally decided to see each other again was that he hadn’t changed a bit. He looked exactly the same to me and every emotion that had ever occurred in his presence came flooding back, making me literally sick to my stomach. I couldn’t finish my lunch entrée and I noticed that he didn’t eat much of his either. Less than a year later, we were married. Each of us vowing never to lose each other again. While grieving over the time lost. Each of us remorseful for our part in it.

Since our wonderfully small and intimate wedding, we’ve lived enough life to fill those ten gone years. Bought a house, renovated it, changed jobs, changed careers, became pregnant, moved into a new house, and had a baby. It’s been a whirlwind to say the least and I’ve been happy to do it all with him. It’s funny how I can still see that 13-year-old boy despite the years gone by and the heartache he has endured. He can still start my heart with a look and reduce me to childish glee with a few words. And it’s wonderful to see the kind-hearted, generous, sensitive, reliable, and loyal man that he has become. He says kind things to me, such as how I helped him become the man we all see today. But I know that I just saw him for who he is and maybe reminded him of what was real. I also thoroughly enjoy when he tells me that he still sees that young girl when he looks at me. The one that he felt compelled to protect and always wanted only good things to happen to her. So much so, that he thought she’d be better off without him.

I wasn’t.

As promised

I make a point not to place too many demands on myself as my environment tends to do enough of that for me. But I did have a flexible goal of at least one blog post per month. Well… here's my Halloween post. Better late than never....right?

I simply had no idea that I would react so strongly to seeing my little guy all dressed up and ready to experience his first Halloween. It was a strange fusion between my fond memories as a child and realizing that he was forming his own memories as I watched. From this point forward, we will move through each year, growing our own traditions, looking back at old costume pictures, and laughing over stories of what happened. And it was just us. Dan, me, and Cole. For some reason, that meant more to me than I realized it would.


When I got home Monday night, I really had no idea how special the night would turn out to be. Dan said that he has always wanted to setup his lights, music, and smoke machine but never had before. He wondered what I thought of that. “Sounds like fun”, I said. I put candy in a bowl and counted pieces so we would know how many kids we had (Something I got from my dad). Put Cole in his costume just in time for the early trick-or-treaters to start roaming the streets. It was a nice enough evening that we just opened the living room picture window and “set up shop” to give our candy away. Cole explored the candy bowl and the open window, surely wondering what the heck we were up to. When the first kids came, I put the candy in his hand and helped him give it away. It touched my heart that he was learning how to give (rather than receive) on such a traditionally “gimme, gimme” holiday. This was followed by a burst of laughter as he took a piece of candy and dropped it out the window. He hadn’t yet gotten the idea that he was to wait until a child was there with a bag. Apparently, it was just as fun to him without the kids.

When it was our turn to roam the streets, Dan offered to stay back for the trick-or-treaters. He was having fun with his setup. He had his cordless microphone hooked up so he could surprise kids with scary voices and personalized messages over the loud speaker. “Hey, look everyone! It’s Batman at my house”. He is tickled by the looks on their faces when they realize he is talking about them. So Cole and I set out hand-in-hand for the big event. He received plenty of oohs and aahs from onlookers. “Come look at the baby” was a common reaction from the friendly people giving out candy. Given that Cole has no experience or desire for candy at this point in his life, he was more entertained by the crunchy leaves in the street than by any house visit. All-in-all, it was perfect. We went up one side of the street and down the other to stop at the last house before home; Papa Bud's where him and Nana Karen were ready with a special treat.  

            Did I say it was perfect? It really was.

Starting Again

            Can I call myself a blogger if I don’t post for 3 ½ months? I guess if I am a blogger, I’m a very poor one. I see that my last post predicted what surely did occur…lack of time, energy, and inspiration for blogging. Well, I forgive myself and I hope you do too. As a bonus for the lapse, in addition to today’s post I will offer the October/November post that I intended to submit but never finished writing…until today. J

With the holidays past and the new year in full swing, like most people, I’ve put some thought into how I can make this year better than last year. What improvements can I make in myself? My relationships? Can I squeeze anything else out of this experience that I will only get once? Turns out I’m at least gonna try. Step 1: get up an hour earlier every day to work out, take my time showering, make my lunch,  and have my breakfast at home (rather than in the car). That alone has done wonders to my mornings, which have tended to consist of dragging my body out of bed 40 minutes before I had to be walking through my office door, inevitably being late, spilling my breakfast on my coat as I down it in the van and having to buy my lunch…again. Step 2: Utilize the technological wonder that is my new Kindle Fire to make better choices. How? Download a food diary app that uses the weight watchers point system to start making better food choices. Download a bible app and start a daily parenting devotional. It reminds me every day to take 30 seconds and read a little good Word. All of a sudden, I’m exercising, eating better, lost a few pounds, and getting a daily bible lesson. What the what?!

            So with some new tools and growing motivation in place, I will attempt to get myself into a place where breakdowns are fewer and farther in between. I’m sure my husband will appreciate it since I tend to save them all for him. Also, I will appreciate it. We always talk about all of the things that we “should” do and chastise ourselves for not doing them; and chastise ourselves again when we experience the consequences of not doing them. What an exhausting cycle of pain and distraction! Getting out of that cycle is not rocket science, it’s just making a choice to start something. And let it go from there.

            I wish everyone the absolute best as you move into your own version of making this year better than last. May you start something today.