It Came Without Ribbons... It Came Without Tags... But was it any good?

One of the reasons I brought back this blog is because I didn't make it through Christmas without it.

This was a tough Christmas for many reasons. It's actually the second Christmas since Steve and I split up, so although that's still hard emotionally and scheduling-wise, we did have last year to fall back on. But this was my first holiday as a working mother, and that, THAT, made things very difficult.

It's not like my workplace didn't recognize the season. It did, actually, far before I was ready for it. There were a number of organized gift buying efforts for needy families and needy children. There were gift swaps and holiday parties and everyone gave everyone else small token gifts...

But I wasn't buying it.

I wasn't feeling it.

I was struggling to find time to buy a tree, put up the tree, decorate the tree. I ordered holiday cards and accidentally ordered only one. I didn't know what to get anyone. Including my own children.

And I wasn't blogging.

When people asked me what the kids wanted I threw together an email and forwarded that email to a number of people. Over the years I'd developed a system over this blog where I could add to the list and delete anything I knew was purchased. That helped keep duplicates at bay...

People told me what they were getting the boys, but I was either confirming that the boys had asked for those gifts, or not hearing anything at all because all I could think about was the fact that I had decided to make 30billion cookies as gifts for everyone in the world this year...

And some people told me what they had already gotten the boys. And sometimes I already knew those were duplicates. But I wasn't entirely sure what to do about that. Do I tell the gift giver that those gifts need to be returned and something new purchased for my precious baby boys? Do I go back out myself and buy new things, even though I could barely scrape up enough time to go shopping the first time? Neither seemed like good choices, and so I let it go, reasoning that some of these items were useful to have plenty of. That the boys have two homes now so they could keep toys in two places. That we could keep things quiet and not hurt any feelings.

I also didn't have a lot of time to spend at home. One day was all I had, between work and the boys' play rehearsal. Some people thought I was crazy for attempting to make the drive home for one day, but I felt like I was failing at so many other things that I didn't want to give it up. I was trying to do everything, to see everyone...

Well, I tried not to let anyone feel slighted. I tried to keep things casual and light and non-stressful because I already had stress thickly bleeding out of my ears, but not everyone can take these things with a grain of salt. So not only did I fail in the holiday card department, the decorating department, the time-spent department, and the gift giving department, I seemed to have failed in the joy-of-the-season department and I humbly apologize to those people (everyone)  I inconvenienced and / or hurt with my lack of communication. It was a rehearsal. I'll do better next year, for the real performance.

It's just that I wasn't feeling Christmas this year. Even now, after all the gifts have been opened and the dry pine needles are raining off the branches of our tree, I feel as though I skipped it. I missed it. I never caught that Holiday Spark.

Maybe for a few moments. At church. During the Christmas Eve service when we were all singing carols in the dark, candles lit, and the director stopped playing the organ... it was just our voices in the vast old space, warm with bodies close to bodies, and a certain kind of hope and belief in new things.

Next year, things will be different.

Doing Things

A couple of Sundays ago, we did an exercise at church. They passed out paper and pencils and we were asked to write down everything we had to do between then and Christmas.

People laughed, and sniggered, and a few people like me started scribbling like crazy because there was no way I would have time to put everything down, but I remembered most things from when I'd made this list for myself the day before...

And then afterwards, we were asked to think of these things in a different way. Instead of thinking about the list as things we HAD to do, we should think of them as things we GOT to do.

And then this past Sunday we had a sermon at church about the season and reminding us to take time to feel the wonder, to enjoy it instead of just being busy busy busy.

I guess I tend to get introspective about some church sermons.

Anyway, I have decided to apply these things to this holiday season. I'm not going to worry so much about the shopping and the wrapping. Instead, I'm going to just enjoy things. I'm going to take my kids to the cookie swap. I'm going to decorate the Christmas tree with my kids next weekend. I'm going to listen to The Christmas Can-Can 10 times a day because my kids keep asking to hear it. I'm taking Andy to The Nutcracker.

The point is, I'm planning on enjoying Christmas this year. Less to dos, and more get tos. I want it to be Christmas like when I was a kid, all lights and ornaments, very little stress.

Wish me luck.

Faith Musings

Today is Sunday. This is the day of our minister's last sermon before he leaves our church and moves on to other things.

I grew up an atheist. There were times, in my life, when I believed in God, when I thought my family was going to hell, and even when I thought I might be resurrected at some point and live forever. But my parents gave me the freedom to think for myself and decide these things for myself, and because of this, I landed in adulthood firmly convinced that there was no real "God" the way various religions described "him."

And then I found this church.

I feel I must explain myself, because this church community has become such a huge part of my life in such a short period of time. I talk about my church a lot because I think about my church a lot. I feel people bristle when I speak about my church, as though I am a crazy person who is going to start raving about Jesus and demanding they give up their Sunday morning sleep-ins  even though I was simply talking about music, or going to a meeting.

I still haven't really changed my mind. I am still an atheist. I have simply fallen in love with this church, that does not demand that I change my mind or believe anything I find to be unbelievable. It doesn't ask that of anyone, and I don't ask that of anyone. I think people are allowed to believe what they believe, and that none of these beliefs are necessarily wrong. We can find more in common with each other than we can find things to divide us.

I have never been a member of another church. I have never had a minister other than this minister. I am nervous about this transition - what if this new minister prays too much? What if she isn't as intellectually stimulating and I get bored? What will happen to this huge part of my life?

This is when Faith comes into play. I didn't exactly choose this church because of the minister. It was the package. I have faith in the principles of my religion. And without further ado, here they are, as posted on the UUA website:

 - the inherent worth and dignity of every person
 - justice, equity, and compassion in human relations
 - acceptance of one another and encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations
 - a free and responsible search for truth and meaning
 - the right of conscience and the use of the democratic process within our congregations and society at large.
 - the goal of a world community with peace, liberty, and justice for all
 - respect for the interdependent web of all existence of which we are all a part

Punch Line

There's an old story I recently just came across again.

It's the one where the guy comes home from work at his usual time, and finds his two children playing outdoors in their Pajamas. They are digging in the flower beds, and are covered in mud and dirt from head to toe. The front door is wide open, and he immediately realized something is wrong. He dashes inside, tripping over a pile of coats and shoes. The living room is a wreck, cushions off the sofa, books and toys all over the floor.  The kitchen is also filthy, the sink full of dirty dishes, the table covered in scraps of food and sticky syrup. The frige door is wide open and the dog is licking the bottom shelf. Juice is spilled all over the floor. The bathroom sink is running,  toothpaste is all over the sink and the bathroom counter, and toilet paper is trailing down the hall. As he makes his way up the stairs he notices that there is dirty laundry and toys on each step, and all over the floor upstairs. Crayon scribbles mark up the walls. Now very worried, he bursts into the bedroom to find his wife in bed with a book.

"Honey!" He exclaims. "What happened?"

"Well," she replies," You know how you're always saying you wonder what I do all day? Today I didn't do it."

I have been so distracted this week, that this is what I feel like. I know it was April Vacation, and I was supposed to clean my whole house. How much did I get done? I cleaned half the kitchen.

Now, don't get me wrong. I cleaned half the kitchen Really Really well. I did such a good job that even now, days later, you can tell it was cleaned recently, if you know where to look. It's just that I got distracted.

I committed myself to doing a rather big project for the church. It'snot something I'm doing on my own. In fact, I feel that I'm doing less than everyone else. But still, it requires a lot of reading, and a lot of phone conversations, and many meetings, most of which take place after 7pm. I feel as though I'm stretched pretty thin. So thin, in fact, that I stopped working out this week - even the little weight lifting I was doing, just so I could sleep a little more. I didn't vacuum the house this week. I've done less laundry than usual. And I feel I've hardly been there to put the boys to bed.

The project is almost over. Almost. OK, it will be over in another week. That isn't that long. I can hang in there for one more week, really. When this is over I can start working out again. Carefully, so my ankle won't get hurt. I can get my regular routine back. I can get back onto this Spring Cleaning project. I will once again be Wonder Woman.

But for now, I'm just a lump of tired brain matter who is aways in need of a nap.

The 4 tenets of leading a productive life

I don’t like to get religious here. This is not a religious blog. Not only do I not intend to challenge anyone’s faith, but I do not wish to defend my own. Not here. 

But when my minister gave this particular sermon in our church a few weeks ago, I just knew I had to share it.  I found this talk to be meaningful, and it has absolutely nothing at all to do with God or even religion, unless you consider daily practice or life philosophy to be religious, as some of us do.

It was about the 4 tenets of leading a productive life.  

A tenet is, according to Merriam-Webster: A principle or belief, esp. one of the main principles of a religion or philosophy. 

Our minister did not come up with these four tenets. In fact, over 20 years ago he was in Boston for a Red Sox game, and decided he was there he thought he would “visit two sacred spots in one trip” so to speak (haha, Yankees fans!)  and stopped by one of the churches in his faith as well. He forgot the name of the minister who spoke. He even forgot the score of the ball game. But he remembered those four tenets.

They made an impression on me, too. So I thought I'd share. You can apply them (or not) however you'd like. 

1 – Show Up.

2 – Tell The Truth.

3 - Do What You Do With Intensity.

4 - Don't Worry Too Much About The Outcome.

Mommy = Pack Mule

As part of our pre-Christmas holiday festivities, we are usually invited to Steve's Uncle's house for a Holiday get together. This year it was on a Sunday, and because it didn't quite make sense to go back home, we left for the party right after church.

Almost as soon as we got in the car, Nicholas asked me to hand him his 3DS. We don't let the boys play them at church, even before the service, during the choir rehearsal, but since Steve's uncle lives an hour away we told them they could play the things in the car.

Only I didn't remember Nick giving me his 3DS. "Are you sure you gave it to me?" I asked. "Because I'm looking in my bag and it isn't in here." Nope, I definitely did not have Nick's 3DS. Nick began to cry, sudden;y faced with two long car rides and NOTHING TO DO.

And I got irritated. Lets forget my kid's over-reaction, just for a moment. Forget the hours I spend in the backseat of a car squabbling with four siblings over one walkman and the 2 tapes we had (Billboard's hits of the 50's and REM's Green). Let's pretend Nick just shrugged his shoulders and then stared out the window for the whole ride.

Why the heck should I have his stupid DS?

Getting into the car from church, I had been carrying 4 coats - mine, and one for each child. I had three plastic bag of items from the Holiday Sale - one for each child. I had a small paper plate with a decorated gingerbread man cookie on it - the icing was still wet. I had a small paper plate with a painted candy cane ornament on it - the paint was still wet. I had a paper Santa beard with cotton balls glued all over it - the glue was kind of still wet. I also had my own bag with my wallet and my choir music.

See, my kids think it's OK to just hand me stuff. I'm supposed to be some sort of octopus, I guess, because I simply don't have that many arms. When I try and slow them down and explain that I can't carry this stuff - especially when we're at church or a party with other things and people to distract them - I can't even get them to look at me. It's infuriatingly obvious that they don't hear a word I'm saying, even though every other adult in a mile radius can hear me perfectly.

Even getting into the car that morning was a trial. I got my choir bag. And my coat. Then we have to remind the kids to wear coats, because they don't seem to realize it's winter. Then I had to bring the special "guest" box the church handed out before Thanksgiving. I grabbed my phone. Steve called out "Don't forget the GPS and the address" and I also remember I meant to bring a book for Steve's cousin. And the little boys are asking for snacks for the ride down - can I bring a candy cane? Can I bring this chocolate covered graham cracker?

I had so much to bring that I left a whole stack of things on the table. My phone, the book, the address (which I remembered anyway) and, of course, Nick's 3DS.

From now on I'm putting my foot down. Not Responsible.


This is, apparently, how Steve operates. He took the boys to Karate on Friday, and no one quite remembers where Nick's winter coat is. He's been wearing Nathan's. Good thing we have an extra.

Promises, Promises

I keep getting marvelous ides for posts, but then when I finally have the chance to sit down and write them, my mind is a blank.

And I have a lot to do this morning. I have to fold the laundry sitting on my dining room table. Then I have to put it away. I have to make the kids waffles and get them dressed for church. I have to wrap a couple of gifts. I have to get together the stuff for the homeless shelter (diapers and peanut butter and mac n' cheese) I have to shower and find something to wear that is clean, not torn, and not completely ridiculous looking.

What I WANT to do is sit here and write a little bit - I signed up for this thing where you're supposed to write 175 pages before the end of November. Which, when I think about it, is more like a huge joke because that is a LOT of pages, and I just don't know if I have that much to say, so even if I really really tried it won't happen (right now I'm at 2.5).

So... I'm promising a better post tomorrow. One with pictures and substance.

Choices

I have been asked to teach a Religious Education class at church.

Actually, Steve was asked to teach the RE class, because he taught last year. And this time he said "No, but you should ask my wife!"

I want to help out. I really do. But... here's the thing. Religious Education classes take place during Sunday Services. That menas that, if you're teaching church school, there is no real church for you.

And no church services means..... NO CHOIR!

Now, when I had a conversation with the poor guy who was trying to find teachers, I mentioned that there hadn't been a strong showing in the first choir rehearsal. But this past rehearsal there were plenty of people. So that is really no longer a factor.

Now all I have to consider is how much I really love choir, and singing. I really find the music and the companionship healing and inspiring. I'm not sure I want to give that up.

And I'm already doing a good deal of volunteering, right? I mean, at this point I'm doing Library every week, one week for Kindergarten, the next for First Grade (Nick got his wish!) I'm also going in every other week to do clerical work (copying, cutting, sorting, assembling) for the first and second grades. As far as the church goes, I'm on the Board of Trustees, which means that I'm doing a lot of reading about what a Board of Trustees is supposed to do, and then trying to figure out how to get people to implement things... And going to a meeting every single month.

This isn't really about teaching Religious Education, though. It's about giving up choir. I already know I'm going to do it for a semester. But will it be this semester, or next? And how miserable will I be?

Mother's Day - The Aftermath

I had an absolutely wonderful weekend.

Saturday, I went to New York with Lillian, and her sister Nancy, and Nancy's daughter (Steve's cousin - are you keeping up?) Alicia.

Alicia planned this trip to New York to visit the Van Cleef & Arpels exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt Museum. She thought it up weeks and weeks ago, and I wasn't sure it was going to happen, but then, as we got closer, it looked like it was happening! And then it did.

We took a train to Penn Station early in the morning. Four hours and change later, we were in New York. The time on the train was spent reading, chatting, playing cards, playing video games (me! OK it was me!) and looking out the window. It was NOT spent changing lanes, stopping to use the bathroom, or wondering if the other way would have had less traffic.

And then we were in New York. We saw a lovely exhibit - worth seeing, I thought, especially the little cigarette cases and what-nots - and did a lot of walking. We saw my parents for five minutes, and then had a great dinner and hopped on a train home.

This was such a great day in New York. It somehow made it feel a lot closer than it had before. I could make a day trip to see my parents! How wonderful! How magical! Maybe more expensive, but whatever.

Sunday was Mother's Day. Steve' woke up with the kids. We sang a song at church that I love and always makes me cry (note - not this version,a choir version, but it is the same song.) Lillian came over and Steve made a roast and we had lunch and ice-cream cake. He folded laundry. He gave the kids a bath. I got to do whatever I wanted, which was to drink wine and comment on people's facebook status. Stati? Whatever. I don't think I said anything inappropriate.

I am such a lucky lady.

Sicker and Sicker...

Last Sunday, Nicholas started complaining of a sore throat.

He wanted to go to church, though.

I often feel a little odd when my kids start talking about church school. I kind of get afraid that they are turning into little preaching born-again Jesus freaks. Which, if you know either my church or my personal views on religion, couldn't really be farther than the truth. In fact, my kids love church school because 1 - there are bigger boys there with DSi game systems, and everyone gets together and plays the games, 2 - there is a teenage girl there with a DSI and she lets Nicholas play some of her games, and 3 - this teenage girl also happens to know everything there is to know about Pokemon.

All three very important reasons for going to church wouldn't you agree? The Church of the Eternal Pokemon.

Anyway, Nicholas was upset when we told him he couldn't go to church. He cried. He said it was his turn to bring the snack, which it was. But he had a fever and sounded like a frog.

The next day I took him to the doctor. It turned out he had Strep.

I think it's only been a couple of weeks since I mentioned to someone that my kids didn't get Strep, which was odd, because I seemed to get it twice a year when I was a kid.

But never fear, we've finally caught up. Thank Goodness! I thought we were falling behind.