New Year's Eve Baby

19 years ago, I was eating surf and turf.

From a plastic cafeteria tray. It was the hospital's sweet way of reminding me, "Hey, you're here. Kinda sore from just having that baby, but maybe a little filet mignon will perk you up?"

You were born on New Year's Eve, and while your dad high-fived the Doctor for delivering a tax deduction just under the wire, I was too busy trying to figure out how I had managed to deliver an 8 pound 10 oz. baby.

Wow.

Today is your birthday, my son. Happy birthday. I know that no matter how many times I say it, it won't be possible for you to know how magical and wonderful you are.

I have stories, stories that I could tell forever, about how much I love you.

Happy birthday, my friend, my smart kid, my talented artist, my walking buddy, my kind and even-tempered child.

I know it's no use telling you how much I'll miss you when you leave this September for Madison, but I can't help it.

I will miss you.
I love you.
I am so excited for you.

Do all parents feel they just didn't get enough time? I'm betting they do. If you notice me more misty-eyed than I usually am on this day, it's because I'm thinking how it's your last birthday at home. So, don't mind me. Much.

I wish you a happy birthday today, my beautiful son! As you open your cards and gifts, know that we chose them with love for you. You mean the world to me, your dad, and your brothers, Xavier.

xo

* * *

The Weather Outside is #*&$**#@

The weather outside is frightful.

And certainly not delightful.

More like Nightmare on Fridge Street levels of torture. Temperatures and pain that have me clipping coupons and resigning myself to eating spam and noodles for the remainder of my days so I can afford to retire in Arizona.

I can't take this weather and for absofreakinlutely sure I will not be able to take it at a fragile age 62. Because it's so cold that the temperature outside is just making everything cold. And with that last sentence as evidence, it's also cold enough that I've lost my eloquence.

Just because our asses are frozen off doesn't mean our brains have to go the same way. With the current Arctic blast as my witness, I will not let this winter take me down sounding like I went to the Trump academy of public expression. I will de-frost my once bountiful vocabulary, and offer the same wealth of words assistance to you, my Popsicle friends.

If you find yourself in the swirl of a blustery day worthy of Jack Frost's lexicon, allow me to lend you a descriptive hand. You will never again be at a loss to bring the icicle daggers attacking your homestead to life even when your senses are unable to thaw through to your inner thesaurus.

Bring your facebook followers, twitter commiserators, and instagram crew, the vivid day in the life of a winter sufferer that will have them crying icy tears. If it's sympathy for your tundra plight that you seek, throw a few of these subzero hashtags into your mix and find instant camaraderie. (who doesn't love a pity party with attendance of more than one, me that's who)

Post a photo of your cryogenic suffering and head to hashtag heaven with these icy beauties:

unwelcoming

forbidding

cool

frigid

frosty

glacial

numb

chilly

freezing

shivery

benumbed

hypothermic

wintry

gelid

bleak

brisk

sharp

stinging

algid

biting

blasted

penetrating

piercing

polar

inclement

nipping

Siberian

severe

boreal

arctic

brumal

frore

snappy

raw

pelting

I live in Wisconsin, and believe you me, there will be no shortage of opportunity to run through this list at least tenfold before we next see signs of life in this state.

By which time, I'm sure I'll just be hitting my hashtag stride due to a looooong Midwestern winter. #cold #socold #dying #help

 

* * *

If, If, I Were to Mail Out Christmas Cards

I haven't been able to get Christmas cards out for three years.

I always want to. I call the kids together and pull their holiday best over their heads and herd them outside where I know the natural light will make up for my lack of photography skills. I pose the kids, I yell at the kids, I scream at them to smile at the same time and quit looking in different directions OMG can you just!!!??

I take ten shots before one of them stands up and barks, "I'm done!" and then I pick the most flattering of the three of them together and place my order. 20 minutes later, I'm on my way to pick up the glossy finished product. Modern life is so grand.

But then I sneeze and February is here already and after moving the unmailed stack of cards from the kitchen table to the counter to the kitchen table to the counter, it just becomes too embarrassing to mail them out at the same time as Valentine's Day cards.

So, if I were to send out Christmas cards at Christmas, here's what you would be getting:

I wish you all a Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and the peace of the season.

Thank you for making me smile, feel loved, and giving me a place where I finally fit. xo

Today's lesson: Intention does not equal action. No matter how desperate.

I love you guys.

* * *

I Wish You the Magic of Memories

It was raining hard that day. We had kept our fingers crossed for snow so that the kids could have a white Christmas, but had 46 degrees instead. We had been waiting for my husband to come back home, bringing my mother with him. It was Christmas Eve, and now she was here, dressed in emerald green satin for the day. We were ready, the kids working hard to be patient, but the gifts under the tree had been staring at them the entire day and they were this close to losing their minds with wait.

My mother came to find me in the kitchen and asked me in Spanish, so the kids wouldn't understand, "Did you get it? Did you find what they all wanted?"

"I did, mama. And it's all wrapped under the tree."

"Oh! Please tell me how much to give you, and let them have it last!"

"I will. We can talk about the money later, Ok, mama?"

I knew my children would be in my life forever, and I had that same amount of time to spoil them on my own. For my mother, my children were her second chance for the parenting she had dreamed of. She had been a young widow of 39 years old, left with six children, the youngest two months old. Working one full time job along with two part time jobs was her only way to feed us and keep us in a warm home.

There was no time with us, my mother had no giving us of everything we wanted, not even a small amount of it. We were fortunate enough to have what we needed, but for the extras - like time alone with her, her presence at school events, the one gift that you wanted, those weren't part of our lives. What my husband and I had decided to give my mother in the last decade of her life, was to allow her forever with our children, whatever amount of time that worked out to be,  to be one of giving them the gifts they had been pining for.

That Christmas Eve night, in the moments of ripping open the paper when at last the gifts from Nona came out, it was as glorious as a mass at midnight. It was impossible for me or her, to make through without blinking away tears. It's us, my mother and I, who see the life we had before them, the one with them, the one they'll one day have without us. The scenes flash through from our hearts to our minds and we smile with tears brimming.

Auggie had been asking for a castle that had been heavily advertised during his favorite shows. It was a hefty weight of one, one that came with all the essentials for a kingdom, a dragon who had red flashing eyes, moat doors that creaked outward and down, and knights that surrounded the turrets. Trumpets sounded when the king landed on the castle's front. When I pulled out the box with the castle from under the tree, and called out, "To Auggie from Nona," he ran to get it and dragged it over to my mother's lap. I watched them together take to the red and green holly paper. As soon as there was a peek at what was inside he went harder at the unwrapping, "It's the castle! Nona, you got me the castle!"

I heard my mother's voice waver over the tearing of the paper, "It's so beautiful! You like it, m'ijo? Is it the one you wanted?" She called over to me in Spanish, "Did it cost, daughter?"

Our eyes met over Auggie's head. My mother tried to speak, but her pressed lips wouldn't open. I rushed over to her and held her. She cried softly into my shoulder, "Gracias, hija, gracias."

"It's Ok, mama, we love you." I didn't want her to worry about the cost of anything on that night.

Auggie is 13 now, and the castle is still in my basement. I can't part with it, not in a rummage sale, not as a donation to another child. It is filled with what we had that night. The memory of my mother, with my son, and how it was just them together in that moment.

That Christmas was the last one in that house. Our offer on a larger home had been accepted and we would be leaving our first home, the only one our children had known. My mother looked around at the end of the night and said, "I don't think you can find a warmer house than this one."

I knew she meant the magic of the moments there.

This is my wish for you this season. Moments that one day will warm you with memory.

+++

Thank you for reading my words, thank you for your encouragement with my work. Thank you for your time and love for me and my presence in your life.

You are all part of the magic that I feel when I reflect on my life.

Happy Christmas to you, my friends, and hopes of magic in this season and in the year to come.

***

It's Beginning to Sound a Lot like Christmas

Lucky for everyone, I took notes last night as we Christmas house-decorated. I eavesdropped on Laurel and Hardy while they were put in charge of ornamenting the tree. I would have joined in on putting up my lovingly selected tree baubles too but I was a touch busy doing some other things like, vacuuming, dusting, cooking, wrapping, swishing toilets...

Here's what they had to say:  (Try not to envy their holiday spirit)

"We'd better be quiet, you know what mom will say, "The tree is feeling your negative energy and won't glow as much."

 

"I think our ornaments are perfect. She's the one saying it's ugly not me."

"Where's the filler ornaments. Double the beauty in a third of the time. She won't know."
 

"Hey, hey, watch me. I can make this tree go from awful to amazing with these filler ornaments."

"She's getting mad. She's the one who wants to do the tree and makes us do it and she's mad."

"She's acting like it's the Miss Colombia for the beauty pageant for trees."

"I hope you're happy mom I'm now BLIND because of glitter dust ok??!!"

 

"Oh my gosh she is nuts. WHY do we need so many ornaments.?"

 

"Maybe she can't see."

 

"The tree looks fine. Our ornaments look fine. It's an ugly tree we can't mask how it looks."

"How long has she had that star? Since like they got married or something it looks like a flat pancake drooping over but she looooooooooooooooooves it."

 

 "Mom? HEY MOM! Do we have to get the back too?"

"Hey, Hey, look at this one. This swirly one. It looks like it's going to suck your soul out."

"Ugh. These are the ones she keeps from us. They're so ugly they can't even be ornaments  oh my God why does she keep them."

 

"No way. Look at these. They shouldn't even be ornaments."

 

"Mom! Why do you keep these they're construction paper and crayons."

 

"Man, parents eat that stuff up."

 

 "I hope she doesn't plan on saving any of these for me."

"Look at this one. All I did was screw a hole through this cardboard with a pipe cleaner and she loves it."

"She wants more ornaments. She just shouted she wants more ornaments. She IS spamming this tree."

"Isn't this like the third time we're hearing "Little Drummer Boy"?"
 

"Mom? Hey, mom? We love you!"