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.