Merry Christmas Mommy

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I stepped away from my writing for a while.  To be more accurate, I stepped away from trying to make sense of my thoughts.  My aging mother is ill and my beautiful 2 year old son is thriving.  It only makes sense (in my senseless reality) that it be Christmas time.  The time of year that proves to be, both the most wonderful time of the year for some,  and the hardest for so many others.  For me, this year, it seems I am in between; stuck somewhere in the middle of joy and pain.

I have decorated the house.  I have wrapped almost every gift in coordinating paper, ribbons and tags. I have fresh evergreens in every available vase.  I even made a traditional German cookie house like I used to make with my Mother each Christmas.  Our tree is a true sight of beauty, filled with memories for both me and my husband.  We are like kids ourselves picking gifts for Santa to bring little O.  We teach him Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and delight in his toddler versions.  Seeing Christmas through his little eyes is the closest thing to magic and it is wonderful.

In another part of my mind, there are lists of things that need to be done for my mother’s care.  There is worry about her safety and that of my father’s,  as well.  There is guilt that I live four hours away.  There is a sadness I have never known.  I miss her so much.  There is also a fear of what is yet to come. Will I be strong enough?  Will I come out the other side intact?  Will the hole that is growing in my heart ever mend?

How can I exist in this dichotomy of circumstances and feelings?  I have often thought about how having my son so late in the game means O having grandparents who are much older.  They aren’t who they were 10 years ago, let alone 20 years ago when most women my age were having children.  I am so grateful that he knows them and has a relationship with them, but I don’t know he will remember them as I know them.  By the time he is able to, it is possible my mother won’t even know him.  I suppose it is pointless to obsess or worry about scenarios I have no control over.  But the sadness in it stays with me.

Perhaps it is true that God only gives you what you can handle.  Maybe he knew, in his Divine providence, that I would need the joyful focus of raising a child to keep me sane while my mother slowly slips away.  I don’t know.  But it makes a lot of sense to me.  Funny, right about now, the only thing that truly makes sense other than my little nucleus family, is God.  Who’d a thunk?  I guess it all began with a child, so of course, it makes sense a child could get me through the tough stuff.  With that I say Merry Christmas, my friends.  I wish you much joy this season,  and always.

Remember, behind every great kid,  is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  She might also be depending on the magic of Christmas more than you know.  Thanks for reading. Xo

 

 

Wanted Rose Colored Glasses

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I have always loved the holidays.  I am the type of girl who starts listening to Christmas music right after Halloween.  I love decorating, baking cookies, wrapping gifts and making all sorts of homemade delights.  This year, though, I am slow to start.  I am finding it hard to get in the spirit.   Real life seems harsher this year for many reasons. The woman who taught me about Christmas, my Mother, is sick.  She is in a rehabilitation facility in need of 24/7 assistance.   Wrapping my head around this painfully slow loss would be enough.  But let’s add the notion of spouting “Peace on Earth” and “Love and Joy” feeling somewhat fake this year, knowing that racism and hate is very much alive and evidently empowered in our beloved country.   This post-truth era bullshit we are experiencing makes all the songs and tidings of goodwill seem phony.  So phony it’s sad.  Even the Carpenter’s Christmas Album feels weird this year.

There is an anger and sadness inside of me I don’t quite know what to do with.  I feel incredible loss.  I  feel this odd, out of body loss one experiences as an aging parent slowly slips away.   It is the strangest feeling to miss your mother while she is right in front of you.  It’s excruciating, really.  I also feel the loss of the sense of good I thought the world inherently possessed.  It’s as if I have woken up in an alternate universe.  And now it’s time to play Christmas carols and get on with things….and it just feels false.  I don’t want to sing the Hallelujah Chorus while white supremists are appointed to top White House positions.  I want to scream, “Stop!”

I’m sorry for my rant of negativity.  I’m sorry I’m political.  I’m sorry that I give a shit.   I have been trying so hard to find the positives.  I am desperate to find them.  I need to find them, if not for my own good, for the good of my family, who needs me to see the good.  It is my thing to see the good.  There is a pair of rose colored glasses in our home with my name all over them.  They are just broken in about five different places right now.  There is no doubt, my role in the play “Our Life,” is that of Pollyanna.  I’m failing miserably.

One of my biggest fears is that I will not be able to sweep this state of mind away with peppermint lattes and wishes for Santa.  My mother is wrapped in almost every memory I have of Christmas.  Her exquisite detail of preserving the magic of Santa for all of us…the way she made each of us feel special..the time she took enjoying the season herself.  I remember coming home from school close to Christmas Day, walking into the house filled with the aroma of holiday baking and the sounds of Johnny Mathis on the record player.   I remember waking up each Christmas morning and it was as if elves had sprinkled christmas magic all over the house.  She was gifted in magic.

I know I should celebrate those memories.  And I suppose I will.  It’s just right now there is a sadness attached to the sweetness.  Like the last bite of the most delicious cake that can never be baked again.  I guess I just need more time.  Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she screwing it up.  Thanks for reading.  Xo

 

Deck The Yard With Pots of Holly

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I don’t know about you, but I LOVE Christmastime.  I start listening to Christmas music in late October.  I shop mostly year round.  And after Thanksgiving I like to have decorations around the house so I can really enjoy them through the season.   I adore everything about this time of year.  As you know, I’ve been especially crafty this year.  Ever since we have moved into our new house, I fancy myself a sort of Martha Stewart meets Nigella meets Pioneer woman.  I’ve taken on some big projects in our home.  But the ones I have tackled for the holidays were all fun….and gave me much joy to accomplish.

I have shared my love of our yard.  But as the garden goes dormant, I was looking for something to fill my planter pots with that was festive and winter friendly.  Of course, Pinterest has some amazing planter ideas and how-tos.  I kind of melded several ideas together and came up with these…..

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I literally walked around the property and found four different kind of evergreens, holly, pine cones and branches.  We have woods behind our house that go on and on…so finding these gems was not a stretch.  I pulled out the autumn mums I had in the pots, put some foam blocks for live floral arrangements on top of the soil and started arranging.    I don’t know how they will hold up in the New England snow….but for now, they are nice.

The second project I just finished yesterday, is a wreath for the birds.  In Martha’s November issue there is a picture of a simple balsam wreath with attached orange halves and pine cones slathered in peanut butter and rolled in bird seed.  It is so simple, but so nice.  I got a thing of green floral wire to attach the oranges (I used clementines) and pine cones to the wreath.  I added a festive red bow and I wound up with a sweet holiday accent for my yard and a party for the birds.

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I’m loving all the creative things I can find to do for the holidays.  I’ve made gifts (though I can’t talk about them yet), pumpkin butters, fire starters, pine cone door hangers….hysterical.  I do wonder who the hell is in my body.  If you had told me 2 years ago that this would be me, I would have laughed and and thought YOU were crazy!

Also know, that not every project is a success.  I have many “misses.” Just ask my husband about my obsession with butternut squash.  Poor guy doesn’t need to see a butternut squash (or any squash for that matter) for a very long time.  Sometimes you succeed. Sometimes, not so much.  Either way, there is something really fufilling about creating something beautiful or something delicious.  Hmm…It’s a lot like motherhood.