Ordinary Days

This time of year always gets to me. There's all that build up to Christmas and then the inevitable slowdown afterwards where you have to come to terms with the fact that there is a TREE in your living room and not a whole lot of places to put your child's pile of presents. For all practical purposes the year is over, we are just waiting for the date to roll around so we can haul out the new calendars and breathe a sigh of relief that we have a whole new year stretching out before us, to do things better, be smarter and to learn in.

The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve are without form. There is much playing and some sleeping late and a lot of eating but not much structure and I love a little bit of structure. I am all about structure and there's a certain rhythm to my ordinary days that I love. This structure-less playfest is The Kid's idea of perfection. He loves it. I am adrift in it and won't come out on the other side until the second week of January when things will go back to normal around here. I shouldn't complain. I mean, I got so much knitting done today and a lot of reading. I had a smallish nap. I am surrounded by my lovely family members and we're lucky to have this chunk of togetherness before we head off our separate ways.

I could, I guess, just rigidly stick to my personal schedule and force Lefty and The Kid to work around me, but, honestly, I don't want to be that kind of mom. I don't want to be that kind of person. So, despite my discomfort with the loosey goosey nature of this time of year, I'm just going to go with it – try to enjoy it. Stay loose and relaxed and have some fun. This is, I guess, the only December 29, 2007 I will ever get. I ought to find some way to make the most of it, no matter what it looks like.

Christmas: The Day After

We had a wonderful Christmas. An embarrassment of riches comes to mind. The Kid was showered in gifts (and his birthday is tomorrow, so there are more to come). Lefty got a external hard drive so he has a place to store all his gigantic music files without gumming up our "big" computer. I got a teeny tiny HP printer for the studio – so I don't have to move files around in order to print them. This moving of files had become the bane of my writerly existence and I am happy to be free of the hassle.

We had a very small house full of house guests last year and much drama ensued. This year it was just the three of us and Christmas was damn near perfect. We opened presents and ate food and played with our toys. We wished a merry christmas to our friends and family in other time zones.

We went for our traditional Christmas hike, which was actually more of a stroll which consisted of some of this

and a little bit of this
and featured the beautiful San Antonio river.
I got some fabulous gifts, not just one but two pairs of pajamas, a hand-drawn poster of my favorite Pokémon, a book I've really wanted and a new book light to read it by. But my two favorite gifts were this: my sister, who has been angry with me since last christmas and has barely spoken to me since, called me yesterday and my other sister, she of wisdom way beyond her years, gave me this t shirt.

I hope your holiday was what you wished for – mine was.

Mitt Romney Was Not Invited

We just returned from our second gingerbread house decorating event of the season. (We are actually getting pretty good at it.) This was dinner and gingerbread hosted by Lefty's friend and colleague KL. KL is very tall and seriously smart. He is also Mormon.

He's a modern day Mormon, what I would call the good kind. He's liberal and proudly so. He is thoughtful and kind and so is his lovely wife. They have three kids, the youngest being a boy about The Kid's age. There is always great hope that they will play together but it has never come to pass. As an only child, The Kid is tentative around large groups of kids he doesn't know, and tonight he was not about to dive into the mosh-pit-basement-playroom teeming with running, squealing kids. He decided to hang out with us. That was fine with me – he's pretty good company.

It quickly became clear that most of the guests were from KL's church. Every single person we spoke with was originally from Utah and every single person was friendly. It was just a bunch of nice family oriented folks talking and helping their kids decorate gingerbread houses. I wasn't surprised. Knowing KL has forced me to rethink this particular religion and the assumptions I used to have.

Before we ate, KL said a prayer and The Kid, being in the middle of calculating how many squares were on the big living room rug, talked through the whole thing despite my pointed ssshhing. Somewhere right now someone is rehashing the party and saying, "And that poor non-Mormon child didn't have sense enough to be quiet during the dinner blessing."

Dish Therapy

Not to get all zen on you guys but in the midst of all the Christmas crazy I thought I would share this.

I spent this morning in a frenzy of wrapping and packing and standing in a loooong line at the post office. I was so happy to get rid of those packages, I nearly hugged the nervous post office lady and I think I told her to have a happy holiday about seven times.

Then I came home and did some holiday baking so we would have a treat to take to a party tomorrow night. I was so busy I had this sad little bologna sandwich for lunch, standing up in the kitchen.

I fetched The Kid from school and snacked and homeworked him and then made his favorite dinner which is salmon with wild rice and green beans and by the time dinner rolled around I was feeling pretty miserable and underappreciated because I spent the entire day making Christmas for everyone and who now is making Christmas for me?

Then, after The Kid was tucked in bed, I stood in the kitchen and did the dishes by hand and that simple act of creating a little order in the kitchen sort of erased all that bad feeling and now I'm feeling a little more content. This big ass glass of wine may have helped a little bit too.

Market Day

Yet another day spent helping out at The Kid's school. Today was Market Day, the culmination of the state-mandated lessons on economics. The first graders learned the difference between goods and services, worker and consumer, supply and demand. He had homework with specific examples – his dad definitely provides a service with his teaching, and he decided that I, as a writer, provide both goods and service.

Today the kids got to sell the goods they created in class to other first graders and buy goods from the other classes. They shopped in shifts and everyone took a turn being the workers, actually collecting the money and selling the goods (wooden stick picture frames). Each student was given $20 in play money to spend. They had to make their own spending choices and there was much frustration when they ran out of money, but still had things they wanted to buy. (Join the club, kiddos.)

As you might imagine, it was chaos on a grand scale. I helped out and did the things Mrs. P asked me to. The two other mothers who were there to help stood at the back of the classroom and talked. To each other. Did not even pretend to be helping. I just don't get it. Why bother showing up at all?!

So I put in my hour and a half of chaos (which is really all I can stand – I have a low tolerance level) and came home and nearly fell asleep on the couch. Between the crazy first grade economics lesson and scurrying around putting all the knitting I've done since summer into boxes to send as presents, I am officially out of steam.

I had hoped by the time I got down here some other theme or thought would have worked it's way in here, so that this would sound a little less whiney, but no luck.

Tomorrow – another trip to the post office!

The Holiday Happening 2007

I spent a wonderful morning being serenaded by the first graders at The Kid's school. They were so sweet. They sang their songs and told jokes and we, the parents, all smiled and laughed and cried. Well, maybe not all the parents cried, but I cried, I always do.

What became immediately evident, as The Kid sang his way through the song his class performed, is The Kid did not inherit the stage ham gene. He was very serious, mildly uncomfortable. He dutifully sang but did not once crack a smile. I, on the other hand, was singing solos in church choirs when I was his tender age. I sang all over my childhood. I still remember the name of the girl who beat me out of the soprano solo in O Holy Night in fifth grade choir. (Lisa Felty, are you out there?)

This is one of the wonders of parenthood: to have a child so like you in a million different ways, and so distinctly their own person, so totally different from you in a million other ways.

I grew up in an abusive, scary home. My childhood was frightening and I'm a product of that. The little girl unafraid to belt it out in front of a hundred people was also terrified of having to go home afterwards. My child doesn't know that kind of fear. He has a happy home and when his parents occasionally bicker about something like who is supposed to change the battery in his toothbrush, he happily puts them in a time out. He's got it good and I'm glad. I want nothing less for him.

So, he does not enjoy singing for a crowd. He loves math (shudder) and bugs and picking up odd pieces of plastic garbage, bringing it home and calling it treasure. These are things he did not get from me. From me he got his tender heart that can be moved to tears by music, his love of books and his crazy temper.

The Holiday Happening was great. Not only did I get wished a Merry Christmas but it showed me a little piece of who my boy is becoming. I am very proud of him, and when I picked him up today he said he really enjoyed the show. He didn't smile, because he was too busy singing.

‘Tis the Season

Today was a big blur of shopping and wrapping and packing up boxes to mail. I did all my shopping in the bookstore and let me tell you, I am dangerous in the bookstore. I could easily have bought three times as many books. As it was, budgetary constraints and how much I could carry, kept me from going overboard. (Is it just me, or are we all getting a whole lot more reading done because of the writer's strike?!)

A package of gifts arrived from my sister and I took them out, tossed them under the tree and immediately refilled the box with gifts for her family. Yes, I'm sending her box back full of gifts. I consider this very thrifty and slightly ingenious.

Tomorrow is The Kid's "Holiday Happening" at school. He's singing a song with his class in the big elementary school auditorium. I will do my best not to cry through the whole thing, but I can't make any promises. I will, however, try to get a picture or two through the tears.

Dear Local Nursery Who Shall Remain Nameless

Dear Local Nursery:

Hi. We bought our Christmas tree from you on Friday afternoon. We have done so for the last three years. We have always been very happy with the trees and like to shop at your nursery. Unfortunately on Friday, your usually excellent customer service fell more than a little short.

We picked out a fine tree and when an employee walked by, I asked, "Could you cut an inch off the base for us?" I must have made the terrible mistake of asking a manager because his response was, "I can get someone to do that for you." So, you removed the tag and sent me and my kid off to pay for said tree, while my dear husband pulled the car around to the back of the lot. Our tree was then bundled up and tied to the roof of our car and all was well until yesterday, when we noticed the tree was not taking up water, no water at all.

At this point it dawns on me that you, or the lower-on-the-totem-pole employee you asked, did not cut an inch off the base as we requested. Instead you sent us off with a tree whose base was basically sealed shut with sap and was destined to die a brittle and messy death in a day or two. I know that some will say we should have stayed with the tree and watched to make sure you did as you promised, but we have shopped here for three years and we trusted you to do what is commonly required to keep a Christmas tree alive.

So today as I remove all of our decorations so we can lug the tree out onto the deck, lop off a chunk of the trunk, lug it back into the house, clean up the mess that will ensue, and decorate our tree for the second time, I am not wishing you much of a Merry Christmas.

You have snuffed out a tiny bit of my holiday spirit and I don't know if I can forgive you.

Sincerely,

Laura

Gingerbread

Every year, for the past three years, we have decorated a gingerbread house. It's part of our Christmas tradition. The way we do it, however, is uniquely ours. There are no graham cracker walls. There is no baking involved at all. We go to the San Antonio Children's Museum and they do most of the grunt work for us. In fact, the hardest part is finding a place to park!

At the museum, we pick up our gingerbread house (which smells yummy and is structurally sound) and a bag of various candies. On the tables are squeeze bottles of thick vanilla icing and great piles of paper towels. We glue the candies with icing and The Kid is totally in charge. This makes for some rather unorthodox choices. This year, The Kid spent most of his time working on the landscaping of the house, so the yard features a drenched-in-icing hedgerow and several unusually shaped gumdrop trees.

After we were completely covered in icing (I cannot seem to do this without getting icing in my hair) we go upstairs and goof around in the Children's Museum until we're tired and ready to go home. Yesterday's exciting jaunt featured a ride in the kid-powered elevator (which has been out of order every other time we've visited the museum), The Kid encasing himself in a gigantic bubble and beating his Dad at a game of kid-sized chess. We had a blast.

The Christmas Tree – Take Two

So we went out to get our Christmas tree in this summer-like weather. We found a tree that was shapely with a little funky personality around the edges. (One year in Ohio we had a tree with an abandoned bird's nest in it.) The Kid and I paid for the tree and Lefty drove around back of the nursery to pick it up. The Kid had to try and squeeze through the fence (because we are training him to be a juvenile delinquent). Then Lefty had to try (because he's a recovering juvenile delinquent). Then we took this and with some help from this guy turned it into this.

Tomorrow, we discuss the gingerbread house.

The Christmas Tree

It is here. It is decorated. There is nothing, I tell you, like picking out a Christmas tree when it is 83 degrees!

Pictures and more words tomorrow. I promise.

Getting Ready for the Tree

I spent the day cleaning and rearranging the furniture in preparation for the arrival of the Christmas tree.

You do not want to know what kind of things I found underneath the couch.

Holiday Traditions

We planned to go to Vespers last night. Ever since the USDA interview, we have been reminded of all that is good and right about being a part of an academic community, and this kind of tradition is one of those things.

We had an early dinner and headed out, making sure to arrive early because there is always quite a scramble for seats. We got there and there was not a single seat to be had – anywhere. Even the folding chairs along the side of the building were filled. I am sure that standing for 90 minutes would be easy for me if I were still, say, 25, but Lefty and I are well into our 40's and standing for all that time was out of the question. Sitting on the marble floor of the foyer was also not an option. I cannot imagine how deeply my butt would have been asleep when I stood up and tried to walk, plus I was wearing a dress not particularly suited for floor sitting.

So, there was some discussion and some raised eyebrows and wringing of hands, and we decided to bail. We gave back our fancy engraved program and our candles and took off.

We headed back to where the car was parked, and as we passed the Biology building, Lefty asked if we wanted to see the new greenhouse on the roof and we said yes. So we made our way up and oh, there were the lights of San Antonio laid out on either side of us and a handful of twinkling stars over our heads. It was beautiful and after a good deal of fuss about propping the door to the roof open (because we all have seen the locked on the roof episode too many times) we enjoyed the view, and the cool breeze and the night sky. This may be our new holiday tradition.

The USPS Saves the Day/Post

I am wracking my brains again for something to post about. I've been so full of ideas – November has been so much fun for me that it's almost cruel that as NaBloPoMo winds down I find myself scraping the bottom of the idea barrel so regularly. I am tempted to write about my ongoing peri-menopausal saga, but that would more than likely include too much talk of blood for my more squeamish readers and perhaps stray into the area of way too much information. I will save discussion of my reproductive system and its functionality, or lack thereof, for another, more desperate day.

Then, just as I was about to give up hope, there was a knock at the door. It was the mail carrier. He had a box and in the box was… the Christmas tree skirt my Mom has been making for The Kid. Last year, while she was visiting us, my mom was working on a tree skirt for my sister's family. The Kid was quite taken with it and asked Mom to make one for us. So she did, and here it is. Um, well, here is The Kid wearing it like some kind of crazy Christmas poncho.

Now we just need a tree to go with it!