Maybe Christmas Doesn't Come From A Store

Perhaps, Christmas means a little bit more.

It was the night before Christmas when I started writing this, and I was quoting The Grinch. It seemed fitting for the way I was feeling particularly Grinchy a few weeks ago. Not Scroogy, as in stingy, just Grinchy. Not at all in the mood for Christmas. I had some worries weighing heavily on my heart and mind, and I was also feeling down because it was going to be the first Christmas I’ve spent without all of my children. I know that is the way life goes as kids grow up and move on with their own lives, but this was to be the first one for me, and I was dreading it. I was feeling sad and really having a difficult time conjuring up even a tiny bit of Christmas spirit. Last year, the boys were away at boot camp, and that was hard too, but I knew that we were going to be able to spend Christmas day with them. That helped my mood and got me through the weeks leading up to the big day. This year, Brandon was not going to be here, and I didn’t think Justin would be either. Hence the Grinchy feeling.

However, I rose to the occasion and decked out the house in all its Christmas glory the weekend after Thanksgiving. I think I set some sort of speed record, in fact. Typically, I get started lighting and garlanding the house the weekend after turkey day then spend the rest of the week putzing around and finishing up. There was no putzing around this year. By Sunday night after Thanksgiving, not only was I finished decorating inside and out, but my house was clean from top to bottom and all of the laundry was done. Quite a feat!

I am convinced that the festive atmosphere of my decorated house played a smallish part in expanding my smallish Grinchy heart. I found it impossible to not feel an abundance of Christmas cheer when my house appeared to be so filled with it. Driving up to my house each evening after work and seeing the glowing candles in the windows and even the giant blow up Santa and snowman that I secretly hate made it next to impossible to NOT have Christmas joy flow through me.

Really, how can one come home each day to this and not overflow with Christmasy joy?

 

 

 Once the decorating was finished, I began actively searching for other ways to improve my mood. I found things to do for others, which is always so very good for my soul. The past few weeks, it has not just been good for my well-being, but completely necessary, and slowly, even as I trudged my way through ice and snow, my heart began to warm to all of the merriment of the season.

Really late on Christmas Eve, or rather early on Christmas morning, I started writing this post. Overnight French toast, drenched in a delicious concoction of eggs, milk, butter, cinnamon and orange was in a foil-covered pan in the fridge waiting to be baked early Christmas morning while we unwrapped our gifts. A batch of my new favorite cookies (Oreo Peppermint Crunch) were cooling on racks on the counter. Homemade gingerbread that was to be made into a yummy trifle for Christmas dessert was in the oven and filling my house with its spicy, gingery aroma. Newly wrapped presents were piled beneath the tree. The stockings had been filled and hung with care.

In my house, that had been chaos and messy just a few short hours before, all was calm and bright. And so sweet smelling. And honestly, in that moment, the moment when I was drawn to my computer to write, all was well in my contented heart that thankfully, like the Grinch’s heart, had grown in size as Christmas neared.

I couldn’t help but think that the best things about Christmas really can’t be bought in a store. Yes, the ingredients to bake the treats that came from my hands that night had indeed come from a store, the wrapped presents under my tree came from a store. The tree and lights and 27 plus years collection of ornaments came from stores. But, my complete enjoyment of each of those things could not. It was only a few hours before the kids would be flying from their beds ready to celebrate, and yes, I was exhausted. My feet and back ached. My head hurt even after swallowing too many Tylenol tablets. But, I couldn’t help but think about so many very wonderful moments from the past week or so, moments that to me are what makes Christmas special.

The following thoughts will probably be scattered a bit. Like I said already, it was late, or rather early, and I wrote them as they came to me then, and I am writing them as they come to me now. Putting my thoughts out there in a scattered way seems appropriate since these things that helped me overcome my Grinch spirit have happened in random scattered, unexpected ways, yet it all came together in so many sweet, surprising, Christmasy ways.

Here are some of my favorite heart-swelling moments of Christmas 2013:

~The night before Christmas Eve, I was chatting with Brandon on facebook. We were talking about all sorts of things, I was feeling a bit sappy, and I told him some of the things I miss most about them all being little at Christmas. We shared a few laughs about a few incidents…like the year he snuck downstairs in the wee hours before anyone else was awake, tore a tiny little corner from each of his gifts so he could see what they were, then he went back to bed. After that Christmas, I started wrapping things in random containers like cereal and pop tart boxes whenever I could. The kids hated it because they couldn't tell by the size and shape of the box what it held, but I secretly chuckled like the evil mom that I am.

He told me the things he misses, and I wasn’t expecting what he mentioned. While most parents, including me, stress about getting the perfect gifts for everyone, having the money to get the perfect gifts, scouring the Christmas ads to find the best place to buy the most perfect toys, etc…nothing that he told me that he misses had anything to do with gifts. He told me he misses how they used to all sleep in the basement on Christmas Eve and watch The Christmas Story marathon. He misses our traditional Christmas morning breakfast. He misses the cookies I always bake and our Christmas Eve dinner of appetizers, snacks, and sweets. He misses driving around looking at Christmas lights with everyone in their new pajamas. He talked about the Christmas when I had them all convinced that I saw Santa streaking across the sky. (That was the year that Brandon was feeling like maybe Santa wasn’t really real, and I knocked myself out that year trying to convince him that he is because I wasn’t ready to give that magic up yet.  He fondly remembered how when they were really young, I would put baby powder on my feet and walk up the stairs and into their rooms, leaving a trail of Santa footprints up to each of their beds.

What he didn’t mention while talking about his favorite Christmas memories was the ridiculously expensive Lego set I drove all over the city looking for one year. Or the boxed set of Star Wars movies that was the only thing he asked for that I couldn’t find when he was in 5^th grade. Or any of the oh-so-important Nintendo DS or Xbox games that were always on his Christmas list every year.

That list could go on, and the list doesn’t matter. What matters is that not once did he mention a gift. It warmed my heart to know that little things we have always done, that to be honest, seemed like nothing, are what he remembers the most and misses.

~Justin came home for Christmas. It was an unexpected surprise. He got home in the middle of the night, and he told me the next morning how much he loved driving up to our house and seeing the Christmas lights. It reminded me of when I was a little girl and we would arrive at Aunt Mary’s house late at night after driving in from St. Louis and the first thing I would see was the giant Christmas bulbs that adorned the huge evergreen tree in front of her house.  

~An old friend who I rarely see or talk to anymore brought me a gift and said that when she saw it she knew she had to get it for me. It was a Willow Tree Angel called “Angel of Hope.” It really touched my heart that she thought of me.

~Christmas Eve night, Rachel’s best friend came over to give Rachel her gift, and she had one for me, too. I was so surprised. When I say this girl has had a tough year, that is an understatement. Her home life is a complete disaster, she’s been in and out of the adolescent psychiatric hospital 4 times since September, her mom is a total mess. She has spent so much time at our house in the past year, and while there have been too many times over the years that she has been less than kind to Rachel, she has come to realize what a good friend Rachel is to her. She spends the night here all the time-some weekends, she is here all weekend. She does her homework here, eats dinner here; she even went on a week-long trip to Chicago with Tony and the girls over the summer. She said her dad (who she doesn’t live with) gave her money to buy me a gift because she told him that I do so much for her that she wanted to get me something. Oh my, was I fighting the tears when she hugged me and told me that. She gave me this candle holder and a box of candles.

 

Other joyful Christmas simplicity moments:

~These two awesome girls, dressed up and ready to go to my work Christmas party at my bosses house. How cool is it that they coordinated their outfits to dress alike?

 

~A really sweet gift arrived from my brother Rick just before Christmas. It is a framed 11 X 14photo from when we were all together back in the fall. It is the first picture of my parents and all of my siblings since 1982. This picture represents so much healing for my family. Every time I look at it, it brings tears to my eyes. I look terrible in the photo, but I love it anyway.

 

~Mixing a treasured heirloom in with my newer Christmas decorations. The cloth on the table right inside my front door was made many years ago my Aunt Mary. I love getting it out every Christmas.

 

~All of my Willow Angels lined up in the kitchen window.

 

~The day after Christmas, Rachel had her boyfriend Chad over. Tony had to work, and the rest of us had a blast playing games. It was especially entertaining watching Justin interact with Chad and act like the tough, protective older brother. Rachel told us later that Chad was intimidated by Justin. Is it terrible that I secretly liked that?

~I have spent lots of time in the kitchen making cookies and caramel popcorn and toffee and tons of new recipes. Two weeks ago, I spent the weekend making all of Brandon's favorites to send him...puppy chow, Chex mix, buckeyes and chocolate covered pretzels. Then, it was time for round two when Justin got home, I tried to make all of his most favorite meals—spaghetti and homemade bread, potato soup and more homemade bread, pancakes and omelets and cinnamon rolls. I am officially all cooked out for a while. Good thing we have lots of leftovers.

~Keeping my dining room table set and ready for Christmas meals. I love Christmas dishes and I love using them. I love seeing them on the table, even when we don't eat in there.

~Having a Santa’s helper. Justin thoroughly enjoyed being the “grown up” kid and helping finish up Christmas shopping and wrapping. I enjoyed it, too.

 

~Tony and Justin enjoy hanging out watching Illinois basketball games.

~Spending early mornings before anyone else is awake watching Christmas movies.

~Justin’s best friend Sam’s mom messaging to tell me thank you for letting Justin spend time with them, telling me how much they have missed him.

~Spending Christmas Eve night wrapping presents while watching "It's A Wonderful Life." I never get tired of that movie. I think we can all use a once-a-year reminder of how our life impacts and is important to others.

~The day after Christmas, at 9 AM, Justin and Rachel went to the mall together to exchange gifts. I stayed home under a quilt watching a movie. They came home laughing after obviously having a good time together. He even bought her lunch at Chick Fil A. Those two used to fight with each other so much, so this was a very nice heart-warming moment indeed.

 

As I bring this to a close, I can’t help but think that to those reading, it probably sounds as if I had a picture perfect Christmas from beginning to end, but I did not. Not by a long shot. There were definitely some disappointing moments…moments when I really wanted to give in to my previous Grinchy-ness, crawl under my covers and tell everyone to take a hike and wake me up on December 26. There were moments when I wanted to cry, moments when I did cry, and honestly, some of those moments threatened to overshadow the really wonderful times I have already written about. However, I didn’t want to let them. I decided that I could let those times suck me down into my Grinch cave, or I could choose instead to focus on the wonderful, very sweet and merry moments and be thankful for them. The past week has held good, bad and ugly moments; life tends to be that way at all times, not just Christmas time, and I try to take the bad with the good while spending the most effort letting the spotlight be on the good things. It’s not always easy to do that, but I am so glad I did. As Justin gave me a hug before he headed back to Texas this morning, he held on so tight and said to me, “Thanks for making it an awesome Christmas, Mom. “ That made all the effort I put into banishing the Grinch from my home and heart the past few weeks totally worth it. 

 

Musings from a Wannabe Boot Girl

A month or so ago, when I was boot shopping for Rachel, I decided on a whim to buy myself a pair of boots. Tall, black, low-heeled boots. With little silver buckles on the sides. I have no idea why—I haven’t worn boots (other than snow boots!) in many years. I didn’t even know what I was going to wear them with, I just knew that I loved them and I wanted them. There was a buy one, get one half off sale, and I couldn’t let that go to waste, now could I?

I should have known all was not going to go well when I brought them home and Rachel looked at me with a very puzzled expression after I showed them to her and said, “Aren’t you a little  OLD for boots like that, Mom?”

Yes, Rachel is still alive. I think she just wanted them for herself and thought that if she shamed me, I would give them to her).

I nearly took the boots back to Shoe Carnival even though I really liked them. Instead, I told the girls at work about them the next day at lunch, and they told me I should keep them and get myself some skinny jeans to wear with them.

Ummmm…NO. Just  NO. I am not a skinny jean kind of gal. No way no how. I asked, “Why can’t I just tuck my regular jeans into them?” The look they all gave me can’t be described.

They are all much younger than me. They regularly wear skinny jeans, some of them even without boots. And they look good in them. I have always envisioned myself looking like a skinny pregnant girl if I were to grace, or rather disgrace, my body with a pair of skinny jeans. I have not ever been a fan of tight clothes, and to me, skinny jeans are about as tight as tight can be. And as unappealing to me as they can be. I have always known I would abhor wearing skinny jeans.

I got the opportunity to see how it would be to “just tuck my regular jeans into my boots” a few days later. Some of my co-workers and I attended a conference at a resort in Lake of the Ozarks, and I decided to take my boots along. The entertainment for the night was a .38 Special concert, and I thought that would be the perfect opportunity to break in my new boots. Besides, I knew that if I looked like a total dork in them, I could still take them back since they would only be worn indoors. And the best part…if I did look like a total dork, no one knew me there except my boss and my two skinny-jean-wearing coworkers, Patti and Jenn. And they all love me and while they might try to convince me to buy skinny jeans, they would never make fun of me.

Sooo…as I readied myself for the .38 Special concert, I folded my boot cut jeans around my calves and zipped them into the boots. I felt a little silly, but as we stepped onto the elevator, I realized I was far (very far) from the silliest looking one there. In fact, stepping onto that elevator, I knew that I would blend right in. Never have I seen so many middle aged (and older) women decked out in boots and jeans. And the bling. OH MY. Lots and lots of bling. Blingy belts, blingy  jewelry, even blingy jeans.

I wasn’t blingy, unless you consider silver buttons on a white fake leather jacket and a pair of fake diamond stud earrings blingy, and I felt so much better about my boots with my not-skinny jeans tucked into them.  

Until Jenn told me I really need to get some skinny jeans. I again laughed and said I am not a skinny jeans kind of gal.

Just no.

I decided then that I would stick to skirts with my boots. Not that I had a skirt that would look good with black riding boots…back in the day when I wore boots, I wore them with flowy peasant type skirts, and this 50 year old not-so- skinny-anymore girl doesn’t own any flowy peasant-type skirts. Nor would I want to. While I do sometimes miss those days, my flowy, peasant skirt with boots wearing days are over.

On our way home from the lake, we stopped to shop at an outlet mall, and I found THE MOST PERFECT boot outfit. Well, not really an outfit, but a sweater dress. A gorgeous, soft, snuggly heathery gray sweater dress, knee length with elbow length sleeves and a big cable knit down the front. Oh, how I wished I could wear that dress. I stared at it in awe, and I pictured it with my boots and a fun, colorful scarf. Or some equally fun chunky jewelry. Unfortunately, there were two problems with the dress. One, it was at Banana Republic, and even the outlet price was over $150. Sadly, there is not room in my budget for a $150 dress. And even if there was, the second problem was a bigger one…namely, my big stomach. The last time I wore a sweater dress was in the winter of 1991. When I was pregnant with Brandon. He is almost 23 years old, but if I were to put on a sweater dress, I’d look like I am pregnant.  I liked looking pregnant when I was pregnant, but I’m not really much into that look now at the age of 50.

I passed up the most perfect sweater/boot dress and soldiered on in my search for the next most perfect article of clothing to wear my boots with so that everyone would stop telling me how much I neeeed skinny jeans. I was determined.

A week or so later, I decided to try my boots again, in a more public way, and wear them to work with one of my favorite pair of pants—super soft and comfy off-white corduroys. They aren’t skinny jeans, but they aren’t boot cut either, so I thought they would work just fine. I added a black sweater and a red, tan and black plaid scarf. I looked HOT.

Okay, so I didn’t look HOT. But, I thought I looked pretty good, from the knees up anyway. From the knees down, I still felt like a dork. My pants sort of bunched up over the top of the boots, making me look like I should be stepping onto a pirate ship instead of into my office.

I walked into the office, and of course, everyone who hadn’t seen me in my boots at the .38 Special concert was shocked to see me in boots. I haven’t worn boots since I was in college, and even then, I never tucked my pants into them. I told them all that I felt like a doofus, they assured me that I didn’t look like a doofus, but one of them, the wonderful, boot-loving, skinny jean-wearing Megan said:

“You need to get yourself some skinny jeans, girl!”

Arghhhhh.

I decided I would untuck the pants and wear them over the boots. Yeah, that worked…well, not so well. The legs of the pants were too skinny to fit over the boots. Not skinny enough to keep me from looking like a wannabe pirate, but too skinny to fit over the boots.

When I stopped at Target that afternoon on my way home from work, I felt like everyone was staring at me and thinking, “That chick needs some skinny jeans!”

I didn’t want skinny jeans, and I was determined to find ways to wear these fabulous boots that didn’t involve skinny jeans.

The only redeeming thing about that day:  When I got home, Rachel took one look at me and said, “Mom! You ROCK those boots!” Now, I don’t know if she really thinks I rock the boots or if she only said that to make up for her previous comment about me being too old for those boots. Then, just as I was about to hug that precious girl, kiss her on both of her cheeks and say thank you, she said (are you ready for this???)

“They would look better though if you were wearing skinny jeans!”

She started to offer me a pair of hers, then quickly checked herself and said, “Oh, wait, they won’t fit you.”

NO, she didn’t get that hug. Or those cheeky kisses.

More resolute than ever that I WOULD find ways to wear my boots without the dreaded skinny jeans, I went on a mission.

A “What can a 50 year old overweight woman wear with boots” mission.

And I found a black, knee-length pencil skirt. And some black tights. The day after I bought the skirt, I decided to wear the boots to work again, this time with my new skirt and tights. I almost didn’t make it out of the bathroom as I had a very difficult time contorting and twisting and cajoling my 50 year old out-of-shape body into my new control top tights. I should mention here that the last time I bought tights, I bought a size B. And they weren’t control top. This time, I bought a size considerably larger than a B.

Good golly, what a production putting on those tights was! By the time I got them on and situated, I was sitting on the edge of my bathtub sweating. I wondered if putting on control top tights counted as the day’s work out because I know I burned some calories. I even had a cramp in my hip and had to stop a moment to catch my breath before I could continue getting dressed. Then, I prayed that I wouldn’t have to go to the bathroom too often while I  was at work because I wasn’t really digging the thought of having to maneuver those damn tights up and down too many times.

 

Finally, I was ready to walk out the door after I added a white tunic blouse that I love and a swingy gray sweater to my ensemble. (I sure have used a lot of adjectives that end in y in this post, haven’t I? Flowy. Swingy. Blingy. Cheeky. Snuggly. Heathery. Wonder how many more I can fit in?)

 

While I felt better than I had the week before when I had tucked in my not-quite-tight-enough cords, I still felt like a dork. As I walked down the driveway to my car, I prayed no one I knew would drive by and see me. On the way to work, I began to believe the little niggling voice in my head telling me, “Rose, accept that you just are not a boot girl no matter how badly you want to be. Accept that you are TOO OLD to wear boots as a fashion statement. Do yourself a FAVOR and SAVE your boot wearing for days you need snow boots.”

 I decided I would give up on my boots and give them to Rachel. She looks adorable in boots and can “rock” them much better than her 50 year old mother. I will admit though, I was kind of sad to admit defeat in my quest to wear boots.

Then, I got to work and Megan and Jeanna both declared, “Rose! You look adorable! That is an awesome outfit! Good job! You look so hip!” They swore they weren’t just saying that to be nice, and they did seem very sincere. Then Megan said (You know what’s coming, right?):

“You still need to get some skinny jeans! Those boots would be AWEEEESSSSOOOOMMMMEEEE with skinny jeans”

So, I did it. Hell froze over and I gave in. I went shopping, and I am now the proud/sheepish owner of not one pair of skinny jeans, but hold onto your tights….THREE pairs! Yes, this person who proclaimed years ago when skinny jeans became fashionable that there was NO way in H. E. Double Hockey Sticks H.E.L.L. that I would EVER wear skinny jeans, now owns three pairs.

Well, I guess technically, I own one pair of skinny “jeans.” The other two pants I bought LOOK like jeans, but they really aren’t. One is dark gray, one is light brown, and they are stretchy. Honestly, when I wear them, I feel like I am wearing pajama pants, that’s how comfy they are.

And they do look quite smashing with my boots.

They were definitely a hit the first time I wore them to work. Megan proclaimed, “Shut the front door! Rose is wearing SKINNY JEANS!”

When I got home from work that day, Rachel said, “OH. MY. GOD. Mom, are you wearing SKINNY JEANS????” When I told her I was, she called her BFF, who lives across the street, and screamed into her phone, “Get over here RIGHT NOW if you want to see MY MOM in SKINNY JEANS!!”

She even said she was going to post a picture on facebook.

I told her that if she did that, I was going to tell her boyfriend that she still sleeps with her little girl blankie.

She reconsidered. However, she did call numerous friends to fill them on the best news of the day—that her MOTHER was wearing SKINNY JEANS.

She even texted her dad. Who came home and said, after he took one look at me in my plaid flannel pj pants and hoodie, “Where are these skinny jeans I heard about?”

And then…the bomb…

”Aren’t you a little OLD for skinny jeans?”

Apparently, he is the only one who thinks that.

Well, maybe not the only one…I think I am too. They are comfortable. I do like my boots. But, me, skinny jeans and boots…I don’t think they are a good match. I still feel silly wearing them. When I am out and about, I see other women, even women much older than me, wearing boots and skinny jeans. Or boots and leggings with long sweaters. I admire them and think they look very stylish. Then, I wear mine, catch a sideways glimpse of myself in a glass door in the freezer section of the grocery store, and have a hard time not cracking up laughing at myself.

I don’t think my wardrobe choices have gotten this much attention from me or anyone else since…well, I don’t know when.

Even though I don’t think I am a boot girl, I will keep trying because I really do like my boots. Especially after today. I wore one of my new pairs of pants, with my boots, and our Monday volunteer, Bob, told me I looked like Jackie O. Jackie O! I didn’t know she wore boots with skinny jeans, but if Jackie O can be a boot girl, maybe there is hope for me yet.  

The Sweet Spot

Back in the summer, one of my co-workers posted a link on her facebook page to a blog post that a friend of hers wrote called “The Sweet Spot.” The post was inspired by the blogger’s realization one day that her life was becoming easier because her kids, although still young, were growing up and required less of her supervision and constant attention. She explained how during this one moment in time, she recognized that she was out of that “blur” those early childhood years can often be. She called that particular time in her life as a mom The Sweet Spot—a fleeting time when things come into focus, sharpen around the edges. She wrote:  I didn't even realize we were here until the moment was half over. And what's coming next? And, Can I just stay here with them a little longer?

So much of her post resonated with me all of those months ago as I thought back on times in my life with my kids that I would consider “sweet spots.” I recalled quite vividly the time that she talked about, the point in time when I realized how much easier life was as the kids grew and we settled into comforting routines…when they could all feed themselves, tie their own shoes and wash their own hands. When I could take them to the park and actually sit on a bench and relax and keep my eyes on them rather than hover over them on the playground, push them on the swings, grip their hands as they slid down slides or wrap my arms around their legs as they crossed the monkey bars.

As I read that blog post back then, how I wished I would have paid more attention to those moments when they happened.

And, as I read that blog post back then, I decided that there is not *A* sweet spot…there are a multitude of sweet spots throughout parenthood. Like the first time one of your children is able to cut the grass and best of all, is excited about it. Oh yes, that is definitely a sweet spot, one that should be spent sitting on the porch, feet propped up on the railing, a glass of iced tea in hand while you try not to smile and show your giddiness too much. Or the first time you can send your first child who just got his or her driver’s license to the grocery store in the midst of a rainstorm to pick up the dog food or milk you forgot to buy, and they JUMP at the opportunity because they get to DRIVE.

This idea of a sweet spot was very much on my mind two weekends ago when Brandon was home on leave from Japan and we all travelled to San Antonio and met up there with Justin. It was the first time we have been together since Justin graduated from boot camp at the end of January. And even then, it was only for two hours while we ate dinner at Rainforest Cafe. To say I had high hopes for our three days together in San Antonio is an understatement, and I wasn’t disappointed. Well, things didn’t always go exactly as perfectly as I imagined they would, but overall, it was a really wonderful few days.

I think it was one of the sweetest sweet spots yet.

One of the best parts of the weekend was seeing my children truly enjoy each other’s company. A better writer than I would likely not have the trouble coming up with words to describe it that I am having.  I know that I am not the only parent who goes through times of thinking that their beloved offspring hate each other, they fight all the time, you wonder if when they grow up and fly the safe, comfy nest of the home you created for them if they will go their separate ways and be glad to be rid of each other on a daily basis. That weekend, yes, there was the usual bickering and picking at each other, but it was different than the typical ways they picked and quibbled at each other when they were younger. It reminded me of the way my own siblings and I good-naturedly and light heartedly razz each other with no malice intended.

There were many times I found myself just listening to and watching them, unable to take my eyes and ears away from them, all of them, soaking it all in. We were eating lunch at an outdoor restaurant on the Riverwalk Friday afternoon, and I sat back letting the sun warm me while I watched the kids pretend like they were going to push each other into the water. Justin asked me what was wrong, that I looked like I was in lala land, or like something was wrong, and I told him absolutely nothing was wrong. At that moment, that very sweet spot moment, I was thinking of nothing but how completely right everything was…how much I was enjoying watching them enjoy each other. Even their squabbling made me smile. Watching them and knowing that yes, this oh so sweet spot, just like all others, was fleeting and would soon go poof into thin air. And yes, I wanted it to last a little longer.

I tried to focus on that moment and not think about how in two days, we would all be going our separate ways, but that was immensely hard to do because it will be a very long time before we are all together again.

In nearly 23 years of sweet spots in my life as a parent, that weekend in Texas ranks up there with the sweetest of the sweet. It was a time when I could sit back, watch and enjoy my children

I can’t stop looking at the pictures we took on that Saturday. Jean took us to a park near her house so we could get some good family photos, and it took much longer than it should have. Even though the “kids” are all adults, or close to it anyway, they horsed around and acted goofy just as much as they did when I tried to get photos of all of them when they were little. I found myself enjoying their silliness instead of being irritated by it as I was when I was trying to get that most perfect Christmas card photo while they cried, made dumb faces and were just uncooperative and complained about being too hot and taking off sweaters while my blood pressure rose. Instead, I found myself smiling at their antics. Which was yet another sweet spot…that moment when I realized that my kid’s silliness is something to be treasured and held onto tightly as a sweet memory rather than a frustration or annoyance. They were going to Six Flags once our photo session was over, and I kept telling them the longer they horsed around, the longer it would take to get photos, but they didn’t care. And neither did I! They climbed trees, played on playground equipment, made silly faces at each other…and it was all so very sweet and awesome. And yes, bittersweet.

I have no idea when we will have this opportunity again. It could be years, and the dynamics of our family may be totally different by the time we are all present again. No matter. For those three days, none of them needed anything from me other than to savor those fleeting moments. And savor them I did!

My life as a mom has undergone a pretty dramatic transformation over the past year, and I have to be honest and say that it hasn’t been easy. It’s been downright challenging and hard at times. So hard. Over the past year, I have shed so many tears and had so many sleepless nights. But, for those three days in San Antonio, all of those trials and moments of overwhelming doubts and fears faded away and were replaced with feelings of contentment and a feeling in my soul of being settled…at least for the time being! Those feelings may be fleeting, and who knows what the future holds, but for those three days I really had no worries or cares that concerned my kids.

And I most definitely paid attention to those moments.  Very close attention.

I truly basked in a sweet spot…all behind was forgotten, and all ahead of me isn’t yet dreamed of or imagined. And for me, that is what makes a “sweet spot.”

Thankful

It is pretty much a given that my job is sad a great majority of the time--almost every single day, I talk to, hear, and/or read stories from parents and others that truly make my heart ache. What keeps me and my co-workers going and looking forward to showing up at work each day is knowing that what we do provides hope and healing to those who are experiencing their bleakest, most hopeless days.

 Yes, there are many sorrowful, heartbreaking days full of heartbreaking stories. Some days, I go home with such a hefty weight bearing down on my soul and heart that I am barely capable of doing the things that need to be done for my family—days when I yearn to walk in the door and immediately put on comfy pjs, pour a glass of wine, wrap up in a quilt and lose myself in a book or a movie. Thankfully, everyone I work with has a loving, caring spirit, and if we didn’t have each other, I don’t know how any of us would handle the things we deal with. 

One of the best things about my job, and I’m sure my co-workers would all agree with me, is that we often form strong bonds with the families we serve, especially those that become actively involved in our organization and stay in touch with us, letting us know how they are doing. They bring their new babies into our office to visit, volunteer to help out at fundraisers, form walk teams, bring their extended families to the annual picnic, and so much more. We watch parents connect through the support group and become dear, lifelong friends. We are all aware of how immensely privileged we are to be welcomed into family’s lives, literally embraced by them, during a time when they often feel hopeless and in the depths of despair. And it is so very rewarding to see the ways they change and heal and continue to find ways to honor their babies as the years go by.

 Those are the perks…the good and wonderful things about my job. The things that make me smile. The things that make it easier to keep on keepin’ on at the Share office.

 Some days, though…some days, there are things that bring me to my knees and bring me to tears. Days that my lovely co- worker Jenn describes as days when “we take people home with us.” Yesterday was one of those days, and unfortunately, it is the second day in just over a week that I have taken someone home with me. It is the second day in just over a week that I have driven home with a heavy heart.  Such a heavy heart. A day when I did indeed put on my pjs and pour myself a glass of wine soon after I walked in my front door.

 Last week, a family we have all gotten to know since the death of their baby boy experienced another tragic loss. This family has been through pure hell the past two years after their eight-week old son died at the babysitter on one of his mom’s first days back at work. His death was due to negligence on the part of the babysitter, and they went through a court case that brought upon them even more anguish when the babysitter received a very lenient punishment, virtually nothing more than a slap on the wrist.

The family has made very good friends through Share and received a great deal of support. We have watched as they have found hope, healing and reasons to smile through their tears and heartache. Recently, they experienced another loss of a baby early in the pregnancy. They have been through so much, and then last Monday, tragedy struck again:   While on the highway traveling home from work, the dad of the sweet little boy who died two years ago was involved in a head-on collision and killed instantly when a car crossed the median. Today, there is a mom not only grieving the death of her son, but now, the death of her husband as well. When I write that it has been a difficult week at our office, it is a huge understatement. We have all wondered and asked WHY such horrible things happen to wonderful people.

It is not the first time any of us have asked that, but his death hit us all pretty hard. Again, thankfully, we all have each other to decompress with and talk to. Sadly, life goes on, and last week we had to throw ourselves into our weekend training preparations while we comforted ourselves with knowing that he is with his son in Heaven.

I can only imagine the small comfort that is to his grieving wife.

Yesterday was another day that I think we all took someone home with us. I know I did.

Yesterday, with visions of a four-day weekend dancing in my head, I watched the clock all day long. Typically, time goes so fast when I am at work, and I often look at the clock and think (or sometimes say!), “Oh SHIT! It’s ____ o’clock already?!!???” We all do, as there never seems to be enough hours in the day to do all that needs to be done. Yesterday was not one of those days, I have to admit. Yesterday, while I did get a lot of work accomplished, rather than thinking, “Oh shit, it’s _____ o’clock already!” I watched the minutes crawl toward the end of the day and thought more than once, “Oh shit, it’s only ________ o’clock.” While I do love my job most of the time, I really need some time off after a crazy busy couple of weeks.

I was winding up my work for the day with only 30 minutes left, and I actually thought for a brief moment that maybe I would even leave early. Woo hoo, a rare bonus! I planned to stop at my favorite nursery and buy some fall flowers to plant today. I decided the girls and I were going to have leftovers for dinner, and I looked forward to a relaxing evening and four days off.

But, with only 26 minutes left (told you I was watching the clock!) I ended up on the phone with one of the saddest sounding men I have ever talked to. The details don’t matter, but I was fighting tears talking to this grandfather. I did all I could to help him, finally left the office around 4:15, thought of him all the way home, made a few phone calls to some folks I thought could offer him some support, and then I stopped at Walmart to buy kitty litter. As I grabbed a cart and walked through the crowded aisles, dodging displays of creepy Halloween décor (which I DESPISE by the way!) on my way back to the pet department, I couldn’t help but think about the mundane task I was in the midst of while just a few miles away, hearts were breaking as a family waits to say goodbye to a beloved baby boy who is only five days old. I couldn’t help but think about that very devastated grandfather, who shared with me that he is a deacon in his Catholic church and a former hospital chaplain, someone who is used to comforting others in their sad times. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he sobbed to me that he is now feeling shattered, fragile and powerless to help his daughter or himself. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much his words and tears conveyed the love he has for his daughter, son in law, and tiny grandson. I also thought about how in all of my years at Share, this was the first time that a grandfather was my first contact with a family. Maybe that is why I felt so shaken, I don’t know.

To be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings when I walked by a display of fall dishes and towels and fake sparkly pumpkins and leaves set up on shelves in the middle of an aisle, but a small stack of white plates with painted fall leaves caught my eye, so I stopped to look. The plate on top had the word “Blessings” scrolled across it in a thin, gold font. I picked it up to see how much it was, and underneath was a plate that said “Thankful” in the same gold print with similar leaves.

I couldn’t resist, and I bought all four of the “Thankful” plates and the only “Blessings” plate that was left on the shelf. I came home and put them on my dining room table and kitchen island.

 

I just love them, and I plan to see if I can find a few more at a different Walmart.

 I think that I mostly do an acceptable job of feeling and expressing gratitude for even the small things in my life that are good, but I am far from perfect and life’s crap does get in the way and cloud my judgment at times. Probably more times than I care to admit. These two experiences of the past week have been a reality check for me…sort of a wake-up call that has forced me to put things in perspective and compelled me to focus my energy and attention where it should be. Those little $3 Walmart plates were just what I needed yesterday to remind me that while my life has been a bit topsy turvy lately, I have so much to be grateful for and so many blessings to count.

Today, I am filled with gratitude for a boss who thinks it is important to take an extra day off when you have been working above and beyond your normal hours. I am going to make good use of that gift and enjoy the glorious fall day that today is by going to one of my favorite places—Theis Farm—to buy some apples, fall flowers and hopefully some cute little baking pumpkins. I’m going to make one of my husband’s favorite meals (Chicken Alfredo) and homemade bread since he has been out of town all week. Finally, I am going to make my dog very grateful and take him for a walk around Creve Coeur Lake. While I am enjoying this day, there is a grieving grandfather who will be with me, but that is okay. While my heart is heavy, it is also humbly overflowing with thankfulness for so many things. 

The Only Place I Want to Be

Right now, today, I am in the one and only place that I seem to want to be all the time anymore…my home.

I don’t know when or how or why I’ve turned into such a homebody. I used to love being out and about, taking walks around the neighborhood stopping to chat with acquaintances along the way. I used to love walking around the mall window shopping, or idly browsing the aisles at Target and Hobby Lobby. Crazy as it sounds, I even used to love going to the grocery store.

I don’t know if it is because the past few months have been busy and stressful and I’ve taken so many trips since spring, but right now, I just want to hang out in my house, bake cookies, pull out all of my pumpkins and colorful leaf garlands and bedeck everything for fall. The weather has been fairly delightful this summer with only a few miserably hot and humid days sprinkled in amongst mostly glorious ones, and on days that are cooler, like today, I want to accept Mother Nature’s beckoning to sit on my porch sipping coffee and listening to the locusts that are out in abundance right now. That mating call that can be so loud at times just signifies summer I think. I know some people find it annoying, but I don’t. And when I say “cooler,” don’t get me wrong…it’s not cool by any means. It’s still 90, but the steamy humidity is blissfully absent—perfect summer days. The kind that make me wish I lived somewhere warm all year round.

I so enjoy being at home that I almost feel resentful when I have to leave for some reason. There were too many evenings the past two weeks that I had to be out after dinner and all I could think about was getting home. This week, I looked so forward to today because I knew that I had absolutely no place I needed to be that I didn’t want to go. The house is clean, I only have one basket of laundry waiting in the basement, and while I have some ‘work’ work to do this weekend, I don’t even care. Because I am home.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t feel like being a recluse and shutting myself off from the world, I am just enjoying being here.

So, this afternoon, I spent some time in the basement unstacking dusty tubs searching for my fall décor. I couldn’t find most of it—no idea where my husband put it—but I did find a few things just sufficient to get me started. Even though it is still officially summer, once September arrives, I am always anxious to transition my house from summer to fall, both inside and out. I didn’t do much today, just enough to put me in the mood for crisp, cool days, sweaters, simmering pots of yummy soup, apple pie and all things pumpkin.

I’ve been making an effort these days to use some of things I love in different ways, and as I was decking out my dining room table with white pumpkins, bittersweet garland and candles, I happened to glance over and notice the small collection of milk glass vases on a shelf in my living room. I just knew they would look really pretty with sprays of orange flowers. I love milk glass, and it was kind of fun using a few vases in a way other than just letting them gather dust on a shelf.

 

I also bought myself some sunflowers for the kitchen counter this afternoon. I adore sunflowers, and I buy them whenever I can because they make me smile and remind me of a dear friend.

The yellow flowers in these vases have been there most of the summer, and I almost replaced them with something more fallish, but I decided I really like how cheerful they are. And, look at that cute little yellow carnival glass sunflower bowl--I bought it a few weeks ago at an antique mall here in St. Charles, and it was only $3!  

 

You can’t tell from the photo, but I found a picture of the kids at a pumpkin patch taken the fall that Rachel was two and put it in a frame. I’m sure they will all roll their eyes when they see it, but do I care? Nope! :) They are all so cute and little, and I really miss our annual trips to the pumpkin patch. Buying pumpkins at the grocery store just is not the same as having the kids run through heaps of pumpkins picking out their favorites.

I have a few more projects up my sleeve, but that’s the extent of my fall flourishes for now. As much as I love summer, with fall approaching, I am looking forward to cozying things up, trying some new recipes, and finishing some painting projects. This is my last free weekend for a while, and I am soaking up and enjoying the peace and tranquility in my house right now as much as I can. While it’s not quite “sit on the porch in flannel pants” weather, fall is in the air, and I even have a simmering pot of potato cheese soup on the stove and a bag of apples ready to be made into a pie tomorrow. This will all have to be my fall fix for now.

Pinteresting Things

I have few guilty pleasures in my life. I swear. I don’t watch soap operas. I don’t watch much television at all, in fact. I don’t hoard shoes or clothes or pets or anything. I don’t collect expensive knick knacks.

I do, however, drink too much coffee. WAYYY too much. I also faithfully watch The Bachelor/Bachelorette. (Shhhh…don’t tell anyone! Embarrassing, I know. More embarrassing than my Dr. Phil watching days.) I enjoy drinking wine. But other than that, I don’t do much that I am ashamed to admit that I do.

Except when it comes to Pinterest. I have no idea how I cooked, decorated, gardened, cleaned, organized, celebrated holidays—how I did much of anything before God or whoever created Pinterest. When I originally joined, after hearing from others how addicting it can be, I swore up and down and sideways and in circles that I was ONLY joining as a way to save all of the recipes and jewelry making ideas I found online. I thought it would be much easier to have all of my favorite things saved in one place rather than having to scroll through my 100-yard long list of internet favorites when I wanted to find something.

Yeah. Famous last words.

That resolve lasted for all of about, oh, 1.325 seconds after I visited Pinterest for the first time after my membership was “approved.” (Why do you have to be approved I wonder? Do the powers that be at Pinterest do a mental health background check on you to make sure you are unstable enough to become totally addicted to their website before they let you join? Yes, I think that must be it.) Now, I am addicted and have something else to add to my guilty-pleasures list. For someone like me who has enjoyed creating things ever since I was a child, I was sucked into the Pinterest vortex quicker than Dorothy and Toto were swirled up into that Kansas tornado.   And once I WAS officially and irrevocably sucked in, I did no searching for a magic Wizard to guide me out. (I have, however, learned from Pinterest how to make glittery red shoes and how to make your kitchen table legs look like witches boots).

Is it obvious that I love that site?! What started out as a place for me to pin all of my favorite recipes quickly became the first place on the web that I visit most days, even before I check email or facebook. The plethora of recipes and home decorating ideas and organizing tips…OH MY. Well, if you’ve been there, you get what I’m saying. Or as my teenage daughters would say, you “feel me.” I have 20 boards (20!!!!!) just devoted to recipes.

I think I may need a 12-step program.

Pinterest has become the first place I go when I want to find just about anything. It’s better than Google! Blasphemy, I know! I hope the Google gods don’t strike me down and hide all of my Pinterest boards and change my password for saying that.

Now, while I consider Pinterest my number one guilty pleasure (I am fairly certain I would give up coffee, wine and the Bachelor/Bachelorette before I would give up Pinterest), I have also been very inspired by it. I have seen the silly cartoon photos that many people pin that say things like, “Honey, I didn’t make dinner because I was too busy pinning recipes today!” and other such things. But, I feel like it has made me more productive. Its pins and pinners have inspired me to try new recipes, organize messy areas of my house, and attempt decorating and craft projects I would never have thought of before and recently, I even choose a paint color for my bathroom based on a picture of a bathroom I found on Pinterest.

There is another upside to my Pinterest addiction. I rarely buy magazines these days. Magazines used to be another guilty pleasure of mine…Southern Living, Taste of Home, Good Housekeeping, Family Fun…that is just the beginning of the list! Now, I may pick them up to flip through when I am in line at the grocery store or Target, but I rarely buy them these days, knowing that Pinterest is like the ultimate magazine chock full of crafts and recipes and decorating and fun kid projects all at my fingertips and a mouse click. And I don’t have to wait a month to get a new issue because my daily visits to Pinterest are like receiving new issues of my favorite magazine every single day, drenching my mind with so much inspiration that my lifetime will not be long enough to make even half of the things I have pinned.  Unfortunately, the money I save by no longer buying magazines probably doesn’t make up for the money I spend on projects and recipes. But hey, we have to eat, right?

A few weeks ago, Tony and the girls were out of town all week, and I had lots of time on my hands. I decided to tackle a bunch of projects large and small, and I realized how many of them lately have been inspired by Pinterest. I’ve tried many different things, some of which were a total flop, others which were definite winners and made me feel like I could hang with Martha Stewart drinking homemade lemonade infused with crushed mint out of hand painted glasses while we make Christmas ornaments and wall art from empty toilet paper rolls. (Now that is one craft I don’t get!)

There are other things I don’t get as well. Like the cleaning tips where the pinner declares, “MIND BLOWN!” and when I try them, I wonder what they were smoking when their mind was blown because the tip really doesn’t work. For instance, if you have seen this tip, don’t waste your time trying it: A mixture of peroxide and baking soda to clean grungy old baking pans does not work. At all. Neither does cleaning your hardwood floors with tea. The picture showed a shiny, brand spanking new looking floor, but when I tried it…my floor didn’t look even a smidge different after than it did before, and my old baking trays didn’t look any cleaner or shinier before I let them soak all day covered with a paste of baking soda and peroxide.

That all said, I’ve had way more Pinterest successes than failures.

First, of course, are the recipes I’ve tried. There have been so many over time, but these are a few favorites these days:

White Chocolate  Snickerdoodle Pudding Cookies A dreamy combination of vanilla pudding mix, white chocolate chips and cinnamon, rolled in cinnamon and sugar before baking. OH MY.

Heavenly Oreo Cookie Dessert (Does that really need an explanation? I think not.)

Breakfast nachos (scrambled eggs, bacon and melted cheese piled on top of freshly made corn chips. YUM.

Chicken Pillows (another YUM. A mixture of chicken, cream cheese and some seasonings wrapped up in crescent roll dough and then baked.

More kinds of quesadillas than I ever imagined--pizza, breakfast, Philly Steak…just to name a few. Tony and the girls love quesadillas, and I try a new type every week or so.

More kinds of ice cream than you can shake a scooper at. I’ve made batches  of blueberry cheesecake, s’mores, salty caramel, even bubblegum. Next up is going to be peach and toasted pecan after I go pick peaches this weekend. (Didn’t I tell you I could hang with Martha?)

Doritos crusted chicken Instead of dredging the chicken in bread crumbs, it is dredged in finely crushed up cheese Doritos and then baked. I’m not wild about it, but the girls and Tony adore it. For me, the best part is putting the Doritos in a bag and beating them into small crumbs with a metal meat mallet. I tend to make this recipe on days that I am stressed or pissed off at someone.

As you can tell, I find all kinds of healthy recipes on Pinterest. Trust me, they are. Good for my mental health at least. Fortunately, my family devours most things I make while I only get a few small bites. Imagine how much gut my dad would have to poke in disgust if I had hearty helpings of these treats. The last time I made the Oreo dessert, the only bites I got were the scrapings from the edges of the pan. Oh well. Sometimes, I have more fun making than eating. It’s not about the destination, it’s the journey. Right??

Yeah, okay. 

On to some more scrumptiousness. (Yes, Microsoft spell check, I know that is not a word).

Homemade lemonade (delicious, but way too much work—and money--for the small amount of lemonade the recipe made).

Friendship Bread If you are like me, you remember this from back in the 90’s…maybe before, but that is when I was introduced to it. And if you are like me, you eventually started hiding from your friends who tried to foist their bags of fermenting goo upon you. But, you gotta admit, that bread that you made with that fermenting goo was good stuff—warm, cinnamony GOOD stuff. On Pinterest, I came across a recipe for the starter, and decided to make some. I now have my very own bag of fermenting goo in my kitchen right now. It is ready, so later today, I will separate it into bags to give to friends, but I will keep some for myself, too. I actually have a few people lined up who can’t wait to get a bag. In a few months from now, they may be hiding from me.

Homemade vanilla extract. I’ve wanted to try this forever. I finally ordered some vanilla beans from Amazon, bought a bottle of vodka, and not only do I have a fermenting bag of goo in my kitchen, I also have a bottle of vodka sitting in plain sight for everyone to see. It is the first bottle of vodka I’ve ever in my life purchased. It sits on my counter because for two months, you are supposed to shake it every day until you have delicious vanilla extract. I hope I can wait that long to use it because it’s only been sitting for 6 weeks, and it smells wonderful already. I can’t wait to make my first batch of cookies with it.

Some downright fun decorating projects

This is one of my favorites

I discovered the idea for this before Memorial Day weekend. We were having a party while Justin was home, and I thought they were perfect. I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of this idea this summer. For Memorial Day, I used red gingham fabric bows and put red geraniums in the jars, but after that, I switched the red and white gingham out for orange and white, and every week or two, I buy daisies or other orange and yellow flowers to add to the jars. I have really been enjoying the sunshiny-ness.

 

 

 

Another favorite:

Still another favorite:

 

 

Fake canvas paintings Months ago, as I was perusing Pinterest early one morning, I noticed a project that looked fun and cheap. Right up my alley because I am all over fun and cheap things. These are photographs put onto canvas so they look like paintings. I knew I wanted to try this, and I had the perfect pictures in mind.

The pictures were all taken out at the Angel of Hope. I love them, and I love how these turned out. They were easy, and once again, CHEAP. I found packs of two  8x10 canvasses on sale at Hobby Lobby for $5, I bought a bottle of Mod Podge for $4, printed the 8x10 photos at Walgreens for a total of $12 and then made color copies of them on regular paper. Then, I simply coated the front of the canvas and the back of the paper with the mod podge and carefully put the photo on the canvas. The hardest part of this project was smoothing out the wrinkles and air bubbles, and the last one I made definitely looks better than the first one. After they dried, I used a coarse paint brush and slathered a glossy layer of Mod Podge over the top in a random criss-crossing pattern to leave brush marks. I really like the way they turned out, and I hung them on a wall in my living room. The whole thing took about an hour to make five of them.

My biggest undertaking this summer was re-decorating my downstairs bathroom.

I almost forgot about my front porch rocking chairs! Two of my very favorite things, how could I forget? My rocking chairs are from Cracker Barrel, given to me years ago by a friend who was moving out of state and no longer wanted them. (Crazy, huh? Those chairs are awesome!) They started out stained a warm oak, but over the years, they weathered to a not-so-pretty-ugly-I-don’t-even-know-what-to-call-it color. A couple of years ago, I was tired of looking at them and was ready to toss them in the trash and buy new ones. I decided instead to paint them apple green, and I bought black and white polka dot cushions for the seats. I did like them that color, but I quickly grew tired of them and, and I was going to be boring this summer and paint them them white. After I bought a bunch of cans of spray paint, I found a picture on Pinterest of turquoise rocking chairs on a beach-house front porch and I had to paint them turquoise. They turned out more of a beach-water blue, and I think they are lovely. I’ve gotten lots of compliments on them from neighbors. I only wish that I could sit on my porch and imgine the beach instead of the traffic racing by.

There are many more Pinterest-inspired things I have created and cooked, and many more I have on my to-do list, but since this has gotten too long, I will have to write another post or two.  

C’mon, close your eyes and chant with me…there’s no place like Pinterest…there’s no place like Pinterest…