Day Five 2016

The year without a Santa Claus…

Imagine if you will, a year without Santa.  Ok, I have said before that Kathleen and I did not do Santa with our boys, because of…reasons.  But imagine that you were a child that did believe in Santa and that suddenly one year, he didn’t come.  You still have Christmas, but it’s not as shiny, not as bright, not as joyful.  That is some of what I am feeling now.  I am not naive enough to believe that the whole world should be joyful this time of year, but just for 25 days I would like MY life to be joyful.  At the very least, I’d like to not be depressingly sad.

So, rather than dwell on the latest hurt, let’s talk about Christmas 1998.  Now the year before, Christmas 1997 had been an amazing year, Kathleen was pregnant with Paul, my Mom and my sister Jenni surprised us right before our party and stayed through Christmas.  That wasn’t the only surprise, Steph and Clyde came up from Wister of course, and Brian and Kathy Gibson came to the party, and Brian Stephens drove all the way from Colorado to be there, bringing his dog Odie, who was mostly chow with him.  My favorite thing about Odie was that she was our dog Angel’s puppy.  How a Chihuahua/dachshund gave birth to a part chow puppy, I’ll never know, but it’s true. 

Our townhouse was filled with people, and I paid Baby Scott $7.85 to take peoples coats up the stairs to my bedroom, so I wouldn’t have to run up and down the stairs.  Why $7.85?  I offered him $5 but he told me he needed $7.85 because he was saving for a street hockey set to use with his roller blades.  Ahh the 90’s.  With bargaining tactics like that, how could I refuse?

The living room held the largest tree we’d had to date, elevated ceilings made a giant 7 foot tree a necessity. There were candles everywhere, and white twinkle lights.  Kathleen looked lovely in black velvet and pearls, and Stephanie was beautiful in a black top with bejeweled buttons and vibrant head scarf.  Elisa Gail’s Christmas dress from me was crushed red velvet and cream lace, and her shoes fit her fine that year.

The menu was the epitome of pre-2001 menus.  The ‘yard of beef’ beef stick, an assortment of cheeses, a round cheese ball (thank you Mary Price for the recipe) and a cheese log, the veggie tray had my dill dip, and the spinach dip.  I also made a version of a veggie dip with tofu because my Mom and Jenni were vegan that year (although I saw Jenni eating cookies and drinking eggnog). We had cranberry punch, and eggnog, and plenty of ‘grown up’ drinks.  For desserts there were 3 types of fudge, (chocolate, peanut butter, and butterscotch), cookies, and tiny angel shaped mints that were dipped in white chocolate.  

All this description to say, it was a good year. A very good year.  An extraordinary year.  We felt surrounded by our family and people who loved us, and were looking forward to becoming parents. I have heard it said that you can;t always tell when you are happiest becuase you are thinking about other things, but I think we knew we were happy, blissfuly happy, and not in tune enough to know that it wasn't likely to come around again.

Christmas party 1998 was not that.  It was possibly as far from that as could be. I had been training for 8 weeks in Tulsa for a new job, living in an apartment Mon-Fri and coming home on the weekends.  Kat was working in MWC, and struggling as a single mom.  We knew at Thanksgiving that Stephanie and Clyde and Elisa Gail would not be coming for the party and unless some miracle occurred, it was not likely Stephanie would be attending any more.

I finished training a week before the party, at the ‘graduation’ they announced that the company had filed for bankruptcy but not to worry, it would be business as usual. I came back to Oklahoma City and worked 3 days, Monday night they announced the company wide Christmas party had been canceled, but not to worry, business as usual.  Tuesday they announced that all the new hires that had all the fabulous benefits that were supposed to kick in January 1, would have to wait 6 months, minimum. But not to worry, business as usual.  Wednesday night after work they said, anyone who had the company insurance, should not use their insurance, until after the first of the year. But not to worry… It looked like the writing was on the wall; I had lunch with my former boss on Thursday and asked for my At The Beach job back, and got the ok to start back on the Monday after our party.

  

So, overall, not in a good place getting ready for the party.  Wednesday night I think Kat suggested changing the menu, completely.  So we did, we still had fudge, and eggnog, but we subbed in hot apple cider, and no cookie press cookies, just chocolate chip style cookies.  No beef stick and cheeseball, instead we did an interesting soy sauce soaked cream cheese spread sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds.  Kat added a warm appetizer of sliced sweet potatoes with a dollop of sour cream and sprinkle of fresh dill. 

Instead of decorating the house with a big tree and all the trimmings, I hung the twinkle lights from the ceiling beams and that was it.  Kat put her nativity on the mantle and we called it done.  

The crowd was smaller too.  Some years when the party is closer to Christmas we have a smaller crowd, so we weren’t expecting a big turn out, but I think all told we had 8-10.  The Powells were there, and the Allens, and Najah and Karen Hylton, and Mike and Donita Fisher, and Tammy Johnson.  That was it.  

Even though it was smaller, the party was lovely, and there was lots of laughter.  How could any party with my Paul not be full of laughter?  Every person that came in the door surprised him and he yelled HEY! At them, as though asking ‘where did you come from?’  Paul and Katie and Riley played and had fun until there was no more fun to be had.  Then Katie and Riley went home and Paul got his jammies, and Najah held him for the longest time, and she explained how the parties where everyone comes are all the same, everyone telling her how much she has grown and how much she looks like her mom.  This may have been the year she asked if we knew any other black people we could invite in the future.

What did we learn that year? That year that didn’t shine as brightly as the year before? That year that held the promise of future loss?  That even in the darkest nights that we are not alone, that our family is here, that people we love as though they are family are here, that my Paul can always make me smile, and that even when I can’t see God in any of this, maybe He is still here.

Joy and Delight

Today was the second Sunday of advent, so I wish you peace.

This morning in Sunday school as Sandy and I were starting the lesson, (you do know I teach Sunday school right? In the nursery where the usual lessons are #1 Jesus loves you, #2 do not pee on Mister Judson), Sandy says today’s lesson is about Zechariah. I was a little foggy on Zechariah, I mean just a few weeks ago we had Balam’s talking donkey so you never know.  I asked if Zechariah was the old dude who waited at the temple like forever for Jesus to be born.  But no, it turns out Zechariah was the father of John the Baptist and the husband of Elizabeth.

So the story is about how Zechariah was an old guy, a really old guy, well past his prime, and an angel shows up and tells him he is going to be a father.  Actually what he says was ““Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth”

Have you ever wondered why the angels always show up and say “Do Not Be Afraid?” I mean maybe the angels could try a little less sneaking up and surprising people? Or maybe the word got around after the angel wrestled that one dude all night and busted his hip.  So no wonder people were scared, they thought the John Cena of the angelic host might show up and bust their hip.  But, I digress.

Here is the part I like, the angel said “he will be a joy and a delight to you”.  This was John the Baptist they were talking about, a man who earned his fame for eating honey and crickets and wearing goat fur in the desert. (you know, other than the whole baptizing people and preparing the way for Jesus). Sounds delightful right? But again, that is not really the point.

The angel said Zechariah’s son would be a joy and a delight.  My boys gave me lots of joy and delight until they learned to talk.  It has been a struggle since then.  But sometimes, I get glimmers of joy and delight.  This week I mentioned on facebook that I found all my serving utensils for the Christmas party.  What I did not mention was that they were in the back of one of the silverware drawers all together.  When Matthew organized the kitchen drawers he put them there.  I asked if he did it so we would know where they were when it was party time, but he had another reason.  Paul does not like eating with real silver silverware, the doesn’t care for that metallic taste in his mouth, so Matthew basically sequestered all the silver silverware in the back of the drawer so no one grabs it by mistake.  He did this without prompting, or request, but just because he was thinking of his brother.

When I picked Paul up at midnight from work and brought him home tonight he was making plans for the Christmas party. Big plans. Secret plans that you will have to wait to find out.  In addition to that we were discussing that this week we need to buy him another pair of black pants for work since he is down to only one pair.  He announced that he was planning on using his own money for that, and that he figured he would buy Matthew a pair of pants too.  Again, not prompted or requested, but just because he was thinking of his brother.  That gives me great joy and delight.  

Epiphany

Well it is all said and done.  We are through with the anticipation, patience, hope, and revelation of the advent season.  Yesterday was 3 kings day so even the wise men have shown up and gone.  Presents were purchased, exchanged and opened.  In theory all the holiday decorations should be coming down.  I’ll get to it eventually.  We can throw in a new year’s celebration and pretty much we are now on a fast track to spring break & Easter.  Summer and the annual season of Pride celebrations is literally just around the corner.

I just want to stop for a minute though, well several minutes and breathe.  Did you get to relax and spend time just being with your loved ones?  I hope you did. We had a few quiet family days here.  We taught the boys to play canasta and they seemed to enjoy that, although Paul much prefers the game “bullshit” he learned from his high school buddies. I think that may be in large part because he thinks it gives him freedom to cuss in front of his parents.

We saw some movies; Catching Fire, Saving Mr. Banks, and the boys saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.  Is there a name for movies based on a book or story that bear so little in common with the actual work it is based on that you wonder if anyone ever read the book? No? There should be. 

Did you make any New Year’s resolutions?  I tend to avoid them, although I will say that last year I made a commitment to work out, and I made it almost through the year with that.  I also resolved not to punch anyone in the face in 2013 and I managed to accomplish that, although the last few weeks of December were touch and go. 

What am I resolved to do in 2014?  I am not sure yet.  2013 I seemed to be very focused on my body, 2012 my focus was on my family and the changes we were experiencing in Colorado.  2011? All about my career.  So I think 2014’s resolutions will be about my soul.  Yes, despite rumors to the contrary I do have one.  I just wonder if I forget to take care of it sometimes.  So this year I am going to make time to breathe, and I am going to think about my soul and remember what Walt Whitman said “Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.”

Sweet Dreams & Sugarplums

My house has rules about Christmas music.  If you have read the blog for a while you have probably read that my youngest, Matthew, enjoys listening to Christmas music at bedtime, pretty much right after Halloween.  His brother Paul stoutly refuses to engage or encourage that behavior until the day after Thankgiving.  Even though they have their own rooms, they can hear the music they play at bedtime, so it can be something of an issue.

This year, for various reasons, from the lingering effects of some unauthorized internet research on Jeff the Killer, to some hero worship of an older brother, my Matthew has moved his bed into the large walk in closet in my Paul’s room.  The situation has worked out pretty well.  It has eliminated the nightmares, (because who doesn’t feel safe with a 6’2 260lb defensive lineman sleeping within shouting distance?).  My Paul likes it because no nightmares means no one waking him up and trying to get into his bed at 3am.  It also means that my Matthew’s real bedroom stays pretty tidy, which is a bonus for me.

The problem is that this year, right after Halloween Matthew wanted to listen to Christmas music at bedtime.  Paul absolutely refused to allow that nonsense in his room.  They listen to different things, but lately it has been ‘fields of gold’ performed by Two Cellos on an endless looping repeat.  I am a fan, but just one song all night long?  Yeah I don’t get it either, but they agree on it so. . .

In any case, a few weeks before Thanksgiving Paul was up late working on homework and Matthew had gone to bed, since he was alone in the room he had put it on Enya’s ‘And Winter Came. . .’ album and was just about asleep when Paul came in the room and turned it off.  There was a loud and animated conversation that followed that left both of them frustrated and unfortunately wide awake.

A few days later Matthew had a rough day at school followed by an unapproved excursion to Starbucks that got him, and his buddy Jaden in trouble with all the parental units involved. He pretty much refused to eat dinner and put himself to bed unprompted because “IT WAS THE WORST DAY EVER”.

I went in and tucked him in and turned off the lights but he was still pretty upset.  Paul was wandering around upstairs and then came downstairs and let us know that he had calmed his brother down and tucked him in.  Paul also informed us that had put on Enya’s Christmas album for his brother to help him sleep.  Even though it broke his rules, sometimes you have to make an exception for brothers.

Now I am a good brother, ask my siblings, but I am certain that no one has a brother that looks after them the way my Paul looks after my Matthew. 

Perfect Christmas Memories

A friend of mine from college posted this on facebook this week

I should have known this morning, when the dog stole my toothbrush, that it was going to be a bad day and I should just go back to bed. I worked my tail off all day trying to get things ready for the kids to decorate the tree tonight. It is the only night this week that my husband was really able to help us. You know that we had problems with the stand last night. We thought we fixed it. And you know I had problems with the lights today. I fixed that. Today I was able to get all the tedious beaded garland on, the red Christmas balls on, and the numerous white crocheted snowflakes on. All while the kids were at school. I felt pretty good about myself. After school, we visited family, my oldest did her homework, I got the dishes done, I fed my kids a nutritious dinner (leftovers), I got them bathed, all by 6:30. We started decorating the tree, and then my husband got home to join us. We had Christmas music going, drinking a little Braum's eggnog. Everything was great. AND THEN THE TREE FELL ON MY YOUNGEST. It couldn't have fallen on top of the larger child or one of the adults. It couldn't have just toppled to the floor. It had to fall on the four-year-old. She is fine. A little scratch on her chin is all. Her new ornament, a glass unicorn, was broken, but really nothing else. I feel pretty much defeated at this point. Unfortunately, I have a lot to do before I can go to bed. Hopefully the wires on the toppled tree will not short out and burn the house down while we are sleeping.

My heart hurts for her, because I sympathize and understand her desire to create a sweet Christmas memory for her children.  She is a good Mom so of course she wants to create lasting good memories with her girls. That is an admirable desire, and to have it all fall apart when she worked so hard. . . it is almost too much.

I read that on my phone as I was leaving work.  Thinking about it on my way home, I admit, it made me cry.  What do you do when your best desires and hard work come crashing down like that?  My friend is a pretty level headed person, she knows to laugh at herself, and I expect some day this will be a funny story. But it isn’t funny yet.

Here is the deal.  Perfect Christmas memories, the kind you see on TV, or movies, or that you remember through the perfect haze of memory are very very difficult to orchestrate. Trust me on this because I am really something of a genius at setting them up, and I am the first person to say that it is exhausting and thankless work, and the potential for disaster and tears is in direct proportion to the effort you put into it. 

So what do you do? Do you give up?  Stop trying? Just let it be?  I don’t have answers here.  I still put forth all the effort, every year.  I have learned to laugh about the mishaps though.  The fact that my boys’ favorite Christmas is what we call the year of projectile vomiting has a certain humbling effect on me.  In the meantime my suggestion is to be easy on yourself, hug your little ones close and tell them that you love them, because they don’t stay small for long.  Maybe holding them close while you still can is its own perfect memory.