I have always been partial to Janice from The Muppet Show. If she didn't epitomize  chic, I don't know who did. I think the sax player looked an awful lot like Frank Stallone.

The problem with writing a blog is that sometimes people start reading it. And then you start censoring yourself. Maybe I need to start another one so that I can really let the freak flag fly without risk.

People who use football analogies for everyday life should be stopped.

Andy Rooney is so old he wore a full-length wool bathing suit. It's true! His column this week started with that little nugget. I couldn't read further because my head stopped working at that unfortunate image. But really, how old is he? Isn't that what Laura Ingalls Wilder wore?

Sometimes I am fearful that we are raising our son in a 70s time warp. He can reel off the name of every special guest star on The Muppet Show, complete with title: "Miss Rita Moreno! Miss Valerie Harper! Mr. Joel Grey!" He reads books that don't read back to him.  He walks around the house turning off lights and scolding people for wasting water. He likes the original Star Wars but is less than impressed with the ones George Lucas vomited for sheer profit(okay, maybe he likes them all just fine and that one is really me).  He enjoys a  good bowl of chicken corn soup.  I mean, it's not like he's holding up his tape player to get songs off the radio. But it's also not like he has ever watched a DVD in the car or played an electronic game at the dinner table. I am a big fan of that type of life. But I am also an adult who has chosen this path. If you raise your kid like it's 1978 but it's really 2009, will they be able to relate to their peers? Will they have common ground?Are our choices making our kid an anomaly? 

I can't help but wonder about that. We're definitely doing something wrong. Everyone does. But what will it be? What will be our mistake that he holds tightly as proof of our inadequacy? Will it be something we currently agonize over or will it be something we cannot even begin to imagine? I guess you just have to hope that in the end, the good you do outweighs the bad.

I believe that we are biologically driven to reproduce, to become parents, to raise children, although, certainly some are able to allow logic to prevail. Who would sanely choose such a ferocious undertaking? But when we do have these little lives in our care, what are we doing? Are we trying to right the wrongs in our own childhoods? Are we trying to recreate what we deem idyllic? Are we raising soldiers to carry out our version of values into the world at large?

Unrelated-or maybe not. What kind of asshole punches McGruff the Crime Dog because he "thought it would be funny"? What is wrong with people?!

Mort has declared that he is staying in his pjs the whole day. Fine by me. I just got out of mine and it's 1 in the afternoon. I was rearranging things in our home (OCD and/or favorite pasttime. Mort: "What are you doing? Are you rearranging? You always do that.") and switching out pictures and suddenly I looked-up and it was after 12.

The morning was devoted to the wonder that is my new camera. I begged my family to jump up and down so that I could marvel at the crystal clear mid-air shots it produced.I then went outside to gawk at the crazy powerful zoom. I was able to better see a far-away hawk's nest through my lens than when I have out the binoculars. Great great stuff. Very

exciting.

But a little sad as we spent time in Florida with a crappy throw away camera in which I inadvertently ruined the film by sending it through the x-ray machine. And we saw bird there that I have have never before seen in real life: ospreys, bald eagles and birds that are just plain old cool: pelicans, egrets, great blue herons, scarlet ibis--oh man, the shots I could have taken had I not been dithering around weighing one camera against another like they were dogs up for adoption and had that camera then.

Instead, I have these useless beauties:

In touring the kindergarten classrooms on parents' night, I noticed that one of the teachers had made a large poster containing the rules for the class. And amongst those words, one contained an INCORRECTLY used apostrophe. Ah, the future of our children...I think I shall donate a copy of "Eats Shoots and Leaves" to the school.

Sometimes you get a friend request on facebook and you don't really know who the person is, but you think you recognize the name and are too lazy to further investigate, so you shrug and put them on a limited access list. However, at some point you may be shopping and think that person might be in line behind you. However, since you never knew them in the first place, you really really don't know if that is he or she. And then you have to weigh what is better, greeting a complete stranger and having them wonder why the hell you're talking to them or ignoring someone who you accepted as a "friend"  in cyberspace. And then you have to think, Well they sent me a request, if they knew me, they'd probably say hi, right? So it probably isn't them. But what if they're waiting for me to say hi first?

And then you realize these are the problems that one has when you are on facebook and accept friend requests from people you don't really know. Which is a whole other issue. 

If you ever have an opportunity to visit the Naples Zoo, I highly recommend it.  It was at this location that my husband and son were peed on by a lion. Yes, that's right. Peed on by a lion.

Huh. Just read about a Dutch scientist who is testing a pill that helps to erase bad memories. I suppose that for people who suffer from post-traumatic stress syndrome, that would bring blessed relief. Especially if it allows you to retain all your memories save that particular event. I know people who have suffered from that and it destroys you. It eats you alive. If something could give you back your life...is that a bad thing?

 But what about the rest of us? What if the average joe could do that, erase memories you deemed painful, would you do it? 

I wouldn't. I have a memory for life events that I often wish would be faulty.  My sister is able to put things behind her and get about her day. Sometimes I wish I could do that. But i can't. My memories are like a shield of armor and the weight of lead. I can lie awake for half the night rueing something that happened in 5th grade. As much as I think it would be nice to be able to forget things that haunt me or torment me, I think I need those memories in my life. It helps to keep me in check and to keep me as the person I am and not the person I was. It reminds me to be grateful for kindness when and where I find it. It helps me to determine what behavior I can accept and what I cannot. And quite frankly, I need my past in order to live my present. As painful as some things may be, they have helped to shape who I am. I would not be as strong or as empathetic or insightful or appreciative or grateful if I did not have times of strife from which to draw. I don't know if you can ever appreciate how truly amazing is the emotion of happiness  if you have not experienced its counterpart.

And today's grocery store saga.

As we approach the cashier, I said to my son, "Don't let me forget the stamps." He has a much better memory than I with my poor old multi-tasking noggin.

Me to the cashier, "I need a book of stamps, please."

Mort, "You remembered! Good job, Mommy!"

Cashier to me, " Do you usually forget the stamps?"

Me, "Oh yeah, even if I write 'stamps' across the back of my hand I forget."

Cashier, "Don't feel bad. I forget too and I'm half your age."

I stared at her in complete bewilderment, unsure of how to answer. I pegged her at mid-thirties, so one of us was drastically off our age-o-meter.

She went on to say, "You're in your 40s, right?"

Me, "No..."

Her, "Well, how old are you then?"

Me, probably having a bright red face at this point, "36."

Her, waving a hand dismissively, "Okay, so you're pretty much 40."

Me, still staring at her in abject horror.

Her, "Well, you've got 16 years on me."

Me. Please stop talking. Please stop talking. Please stop talking. Please do not continue with your observations on how much older I look than my actual age.

That is the first time anyone has ever said it. I guess I'm in that bracket now. Man. wow. What a blow! I have heard that it happens around now, but still. I guess I thought I could keep the aging process at bay for a little longer.

I was hoping my mom's good genes were running rampant through my DNA. Ugh.

Not that it makes me feel great when people think I'm significantly younger than I am, either. Getting carded is silly, but I assume they have a strict boss who has gotten busted by undercover underagers. Late 20s and I appreciate your kind but inaccurate eye. Early 20s and I worry that I come across as dippy or that I dress too young for my age.

I didn't know it at the time, but I would gladly take worrying about that as opposed to being thought older than I am. And no, it shouldn't make me feel weird. But yes, it does.

I know in my heart of hearts that my inside (27) and outside (apparently in my 40s)no longer match. But for Pete's sake, you don't need to point it out!

I love my funny little kid. I laid out his clothes for him to get dressed while I was in the shower and for the first time, he had his own ideas about his outfit. " I thought I could wear my tie for the party today," he said. Of course I acquiesced.  Not only is it good for kids to feel control and make choices, I love that he decided upon such a rocking outfit for the day. Makes his momma proud.

Being driven insane by the wind. What makes the sound of wind so eerie and annoying? Lost power at 3 am, which surprisingly enough, woke me up. And then I felt compelled to stay awake to listen to the gusts and protect our home from it with my vigilance. 

i have been trying to stop taking Zyrtec. I can't imagine that it is good for the body to be so consistently on medication. I only lasted two days before my allergies took a turn for the worse. Maybe I can try again once the warm snap is over.

so weary today. I am having a hard time getting the party started.

Nights out sans the four foot person in the family are always exciting. Nothing actually has to happen in order for this to be so, it's just the act of venturing into the world with a bag that contains only your own essentials and not a jumble of snacks and kleenex and crayons and odd scraps of paper and Backugans. It's exciting to use a public restroom on your own, without having first to encase said restroom in Purell coated bubblewrap, screeching, "Don't touch that!" on an endless loop. It's exciting to not have to remind anyone about indoor voices and to be able to freely swear and/or use words like stupid without cringing and having anyone remind you that those are not very kind words.

It's enjoyable to just be able to concentrate on making fun of the people around you. Case in point, there were a gaggle of 50 somethings sitting behind us at Revolutionary Road last night who may or may not have imbibed too many glasses of Zima spritzers before hitting the road. Their voices overroad all other sounds. They had horrific cigarette and whiskey infused laughs. Their conversation was peppered with inanities such as, " I think that texting during a movie is so annoying! I think it's just the rudest thing anyone can do! Kids have no idea that the light from their phones ruins the movie for everyone! I just want to snatch the phone right out of their hands!" Yes, yes, texting is almost as annoying as...loud boozy women sitting behind you and not using their inside voices perhaps? A picture of Daniel Craig flashed upon the screen and one of the lovlies moaned, "MMMMMM! Look at him." Shudder. Another interrupted herself to ask, "What movie are we seeing again?" Cue laughter.

Also enjoyable are the never fail people who come in late to an almost full theater, yelling in a whisper, "I can't see a thing!" Well...yes. That's because it's a movie. Movies are viewed in the dark. The movie has already begun, hence the lack of lights. We're very sorry. Had we known you were coming, we would have waited. These people then must march up and own the stairs, "There's no seats! I don't see anywhere to sit!" before finally admitting defeat and slinking into the front row.

However, when you do not go out at night very often, these things become more of a fascination and less of an annoyance. It's like a play being performed for your own amusement.

Next up: people who wait in a very long line at the grocery store with their very full carts and then chose to pay with a check that they can only begin to fill out once all of their groceries have been packed and placed in their cart. They cannot have filled out their check at home, or while waiting in line because the date or the name of the grocery store may change. And they have to use checks because they have never heard of these new-fangled things called debit cards and/or cash. For some reason, people who pay with checks are also unable to write their check amount properly on the first try and must go through at least three checks and many questions before settling on a figure they deem acceptable.

Good stuff. Humans are immensely fascinating creatures.

How exactly does one suffer from allergies in the middle of winter? This is ridiculous.

Oh, give me a mofo Michael Phelps break. Uh-oh! A 23 yr. old smoked pot!?!? YIKES! That's never before happened to a 23 yr. old. I'm sorry....and this is news, why? Because he swims really fast? Unless he was babysitting your 2 year old at the time, hozabout you shut the hell up. In fact, an entire generation  of children born to parents who came of age in the 60s and 70s shows that even if he WAS babysitting your 2 year old, it would probably have been okay.

Oh, but he's a role model! Yeah? Says who? He's a guy who worked really hard and did really well at the Olympics. That's all he signed-up for. Why do people insist on making these people they don't even know into "role models"? Do you know who my role model was when I was growing-up? No one. Who the fuck has a role model? Sure, I thought Wonder Woman and Daisy Duke were pretty cool, but I didn't try to fly an invisible jet and I didn't try to get a job wearing short-shorts at the Boar's Nest.

What is this role model shit? Who looks up to athletes and celebrities? Isn't is silly to lament that Led Zeppelin spent their time rocking and throwing shit out of windows instead of mentoring children? 'Cause parents, that one is pretty much your job and no one else's. Now hand me my bong.

I really lost in the battle against insomnia last night. I slept only three hours.I went to bed at 9:30 and woke-up fully awake and ready for the day at 11:30. I was unable to fall asleep again until sometime after 4 and woke-up at 5.

I slept poorly the entire week, I think because I was fighting a cold, as was Mort, and I had mom ears on in case he needed me. I woke up every time so much as a snowflake drifted to the ground.

Somehow, however,I beat back my cold, even without sleeping. Yesterday, it was full-blown, despite my weak attempts to stave it off with Breathe Easy and Detox tea, vitamins and oj. My throat hurt, my head hurt, I was stuffed-up and achy and convinced I was barreling towards the flu. I drank 900 mugs of Throat Soother, Cold Season, and Echinacea tea and we sat outside breaking and throwing ice and snowballs for an hour to get fresh air and damned if my cold isn't 100% gone today.

I can't shovel the driveway with this heavy crust of ice because of my faulty back. We have that house, right now...the one in the neighborhood of lovely homes that is the single blight with the unshoveled driveway, ruining the symmetry of suburbia. But seriously, at least half of my neighbors have plow attatchments on their tractors and not one of them noticed our driveway needed to be shoveled and just went ahead and did it? In our old neighborhood, if someone's driveway needed shoveled, Dukeor any of the other neighbors would just go ahead and do it. If you can, why not? It saves someone else the bother of doing it. Yeesh. I mean, the driveways here are obscenely long, so it's not like I would expect anyone else to shovel it by hand, save for us, but if you're so bored that you're plowing the street with your tractor, help a sista out. That's all I'm saying.

On the other hand, I have these fantastic female friends who have offered to pack up their kids and come over to help me shovel. And they all know what a monstrosity our driveway is. When I got the first phone call, I almost started to cry with the sheer generosity of it. The e-mail from another friend just about did me in. Who has friends like that? Friends that in the midst of their own day and their own chores stop and think about you and wonder how you're faring and if there's any way they can make life easier for you. So so amazing. What a blessing. Straight out of a movie.

Mort saw his first icicle yesterday. He was so excited. It's the small moments like that that stop me in my tracks. We cleared off the swing set and slid down the slide into a pile of snow, we threw snowballs at the icicles to knock them down, we went sledding and ran through the ice-crusted yard. There are rabbit tracks frozen across our porch.

I am blessed and blessed and blessed some more. Friday was spent with friends, the afternoon devoted to children poking chunks of ice with sticks. Isn't it funny; we spend money on swingsets and sandboxes and various "outdoor" toys, when in all reality, all a child needs to be amused for an entire afternoon is a block of ice, a stick and his or her imagination. Life the way it should be. When my mush was an infant, I did subscribe to the "trees makes the best mobiles" philosophy, that children don't need loud electronic toys, they need your pots and pans and tupperware and rubber spatulas. They need to lie on a blanket outside and watch the wind blow the clouds. I guess if you're lucky, you realize that never changes, that given the chance, kids will always make their own fun.

I am starting to map out my garden for this year. I'm going to start composting and I think I can till the soil myself or with the help of a herd of preschool kids armed with shovels and giggles. I have knowledgeable friends who told me to plant my corn and beans and peas together because corn pulls nitrate from the soil and legumes release it. Also, the legumes will use the corn shocks as their climbing posts. I need to better focus on stagger planting and keep up with the weeds. I am pretty excited for the planting season to begin.

I have written and erased four full blogs today.

 

I took down the Christmas wreath I had forgotten was still hanging on our front door.

I waved and laughed as my son yelled, "Hi Mommy! Mommy, look at me!" swinging in a harness high above a trampoline.

I drank tea and ate cereal.

I cried with joy and awe as our new President was sworn into office.

I wondered what in God's name George Bush Sr. was wearing on his head. I think it was a Davy Crockett hat, but I can't be certain.

I discovered a puddle of water in our basement when I went downstairs to adjust the house humidifier.

I looked out the window 407 times to see if my son was soon arriving home from his playdate.

I overwatered yet another plant.

I made appointments for passports and puzzled over what to put down for Jay's eye color.

The sun is shining.

It is a good day. 

Gratitude

In these few moments that I am not cranky, these are the things today for which I am grateful:

1) Heather's super funny e-mail

2) Finally getting to the root of Mort's bizarre teenage attitude problem

3) Catching snowflakes on our tongues

4) Making Valentines with my Valentine

5) Watching Mort write his very first independent birthday message

6) Chili and Speakeasy Big Daddy

7) Getting on the library waiting list for The Electric Company

8) Finding uncured, nitrate-free bacon; I don't eat it, but the rest of my family does

9) The giant piano keys from the movie Big being moved to the Please-Touch Museum

10) Tea on a cold day

I am so freaking cranky lately for no discernable reason. I am an absolute pill. I can't fathom how my family can stand to be around me. and there is no reason for me to be like this. I wake-up, I'm fine. I go to sleep, I'm fine. In between, I am snappy and grouchy and want to grab my words from the air every time I speak. Do I need to be outside? Do I need exercise? More sunshine?  Vitamins? Highlights? More things crossed off my to-do list? I'm reading rather obsessively, book after book after book...sometimes when I do that, I think I become too entranced with the story I'm reading and become resentful of anything that pulls me from it. Great for being a college Lit major. Not so great for being a mom. I love the changing of the seasons, but I'm done with winter. Spring and fall should be extended and winter and summer should be shortened. That is my decree. Other than that, I plan on making a concerted effort to stop being such a joysucker.

the gamble of yoga dvds

i had out all my props and was ready to enjoy a good yoga session this morning. everyone seems unusually tense and cranky for reasons none of us can discern and i needed that yoga high. i had scooped up some new dvds form a discount bin. big mistake. i went through two of them before throwing in the towel and losing motivation. yoga is not just twisting your back. yoga is not aerobics. just in case the producers of either video is reading this and needs my input.

i've been awake for three hours and the day seems endless. i'm in a funk. i need some sunshine. sunshine is actually slated for next month, but i have put on my holiday 10 and can't fathom attempting to fit into my summer clothes right now. yeah. i should probably do something about that.

crap

what a crap day. made more so by the fact that it should have been a great one. the stars just were not aligned. cranky kid. unwelcome person at a friend's house whom i overheard on the phone to his wife being a full-blown cold asshole. he is probably the joy sucker. you expect to see someone bubbly and lovely and there he is instead. plus the fact that i had to hear him be cruel to her. i'm tired. i'm low. i was going to make a hair appointment, but now i think i'm going to do it myself. i'm not even excited at the prospect of slugging back the speak easy big daddy ipa. okay, i'm a little excited for that.

i have so many niggling little things to do. swim lesson sign-up, decisions about plans for the spring, i almost bought a bunch of organic seeds today before i remembered that i may not get to have my garden this year. this is the last year of having my child at home with me. i am not looking forward to next fall. i can't stand the thought of being apart from him for 8 hours every day next year. i'll have to find a job just to prevent myself from stalking him. 

titles are challenging

I heard from my editor  and the woman for whom I ghostwrote an article based upon the  Jewish traditions  in her life was very pleased with the result. It feels so good to have accurately captured her tale in a way that she is happy to have her name attached to it. Especially as I am about 40 years younger and a lapsed Catholic who wrote the article surrounded by a giant pile of books and two computers  and it was my first attempt at writing in the voice of a person I didn't invent. Although, in that way, maybe it was easier. I had a definitive, non-negotiable personality to capture whereas when I write fiction, I have to embody my characters and they can change at the whim of my mood or lack of sleep.

Speaking of which, it was another 3am wake-up. Ugh. 

Okay, I'm lying here zoning out.

I am very glad that I do not eat scallops as I discovered yesterday during one of our marathon reading sessions that scallops have 100 eyes. Can you imagine eating something with 100 eyes? How disgusting is that? I'm not coming from a selfless we are all one point of view. I find all shellfish to be pretty foul. Lobster and shrimp are freaking insects. Anything encased in a shell has the texture of something that's been encased in a shell. It doesn't help when you go to the beach and have the misfortune of entering one of those places where people are hunched over picnic tables surrounded by mounds of crab shells and corncobs, grunting and shoveling food into a greasy mouth with their thick fingers. Blick. I'll take fake crabmeat in my sushi , thanks.

Om

I started my yoga practice again yesterday. I've been fearful of reentering it as so many poses would force me to move in a way in which my disc would be compromised. But I've missed it. I don't know how floaty I want to be, but I have found that I truly am infused with this amazing sense of calm and lightness by the end of a session. It's certainly not something I am able to achieve by running or walking or aerobic sizing. And what's more, my thighs are burning as I walk up and down the stairs today. Warrior pose? Triangle pose? Regardless, I would love to incorporate that feeling into my everyday life.

However, achieveing serenity and a yoga body takes a long time. It's not like pounding out a warm-up, cool-down, and three miles in 30 minutes on the treadmill. It's a good 90 minute session and I just don't know how to carve that chunk of time out for myself without being interrupted to refill someone's milk or find a missing Bakagun. 

For instance, I could be doing so right now. But I feel like I'm only 1 1/2 cups of coffee into a 4 cup day. I don't have the energy to walk upstairs and create my studio. I wish I could sound way lazier. Namaste.

Cruel tricks at the DMV

I had to get my driver's license picture taken today. I didn't want a 4 year reminder of how sallow and old and washed-out and ill I look with the dark pit of hair my hairdresser has bestowed upon me. Sooo, I pulled on one of my 237 trusty berets and away went I.

Haha, though, wasn't the joke on me when I sat down and was instructed to remove my hat. What kind of sick mind came up with that rule? If it was a baseball hat or anything with a brim that obscured the view of my face, obviously that's just common sense. But a beret that held back my hair and was positioned on the back of my head...

And c'mon, I'm a female. Would I have a hat on if I deemed my hair acceptable? Can any female with long hair whip off  her hat and have camera ready hair? (And in my world, the answer is no!)

No. No, they cannot. So, not only do I have a tangled mop of black hair that makes me look like I'm just getting over a case of mono, but it's hair that looks like it was either shoved under a hat or hair that belongs to one who is a bit on the side of "Don't give the crazy lady a license!" It's a new low in the horridness that is driver's license photography.

It is imperative that Andy Rooney's typewriter be taken.

Good Lord. Where are the censors when we need them? His "writing" style makes my eyes bleed. Sure, the sensible solution would be to just turn the page, but he is so clearly out of his mind. It would be best if the Home took away his writing implements and covered him with a nice afghan and made him some hot lemon water. Shhh, Andy Rooney, shhh.

No sleep till Brooklyn

I haven't slept through the night for the past three nights. I'm a freaking zombie. Humans were not meant to fall asleep at 11 and awake at 2. I feel like I have a newborn in the house. And I'm throwing a party tomorrow. And I have to clean and get things in order today. And I want only to lie down and stare blankly into space.

Out of sorts

I think I am the only person in America who did not purchase a Wii for my preschooler this year. Okay, I know that's not true. Luckily, I have a wonderful group of friends who do not subscribe to the video game mentality either, or else I would feel like I needed to move to a freaky-deaky commune in the middle of nowhere with no electricity in order to raise my child in a fashion that makes sense to me.

I am growing so weary of going to parties where everyone plops plops their child down in front of the Wii and/or all the kids huddle around the one child playing a Gameboy or whatever the latest handheld video game device is called--do they even still make Gameboys?---and watch that kid push buttons. 

Ya know, if you take away that video game, the kids will still not tear you away from your glass of wine. They will instead interact with each other and make-up games or play dinosaurs or puzzles or have a dance party or build what they are deeming robots or chase each other or draw treasure maps. Kids enjoy each other's company. Kids LIKE to play and use their imagination if you give them the opportunity to do so. I know it's a radical idea, but I witness it at least once a week with my very own eyes! Put a bunch of kids in a room together and they will come up with their own idea of fun that involves nothing more than their minds. They will laugh and yell and be thoroughly engaged. 

Kids do not need electronic equipment to have a good time. Honest. I have even been to parties where the parents have orchestrated a game of duck, duck goose or musical chairs and in one instance even made-up a game for the kids and everyone had a good time. I know it seems crazy, but it's true.

Ugh. Anyway. And to the pet shop owner who feels he is being "unfairly targeted just because I bashed a kitten's head in against a dumpster ten years ago"? Yeah. I'm pretty certain I can guess what hell is going to look like for you. I'm thinking teeny-tiny  feces covered cage that allows you no room to turn around and a daily death by having your head bashed in...

P.S. If you eat fish, and/or shellfish, you aren't a vegetarian. 

P.P.S. Why in the world do I even care about this stuff? It has nothing to do with me and quite frankly, it's none of my business. Nobody is forcing me to buy a Wii, so why in the world does it matter what other people are doing in the privacy of their own home? Maybe that's the only time they hang out together as a family. I don't know. And I guess the vegetarian thing irks me because the people who are always the first and loudest to proclaim their vegetarian status are usually the ones who eat poultry and fish. The people who haven't eaten anything with a face for  at least a decade never mention it. Again, it couldn't have less to do with me. No idea why I feel the need to comment. Maybe my New Year's Resolution should be to do less judging.

Happy New Year!

Sometimes life is so sweet.

Not computer literate. Oh, and some other stuff.

I am paranoid, so I am constantly inventing more and more elaborate passwords for each and every account. And then I forget them and can't login to anything. 

I have been attempting to attach a counter to my blog, but I just can't figure it out. I have been  constantly going to every blog I read that has a counter and going to the sites that support their counters and trying to figure it out, but the instructions are a big 'ol overwhelming jumble to me and I just cannot do it. So, I guess I give up. Obviously other people know how to make their computers work. I have a hard time importing songs off of CDs. I should just be grateful that I can even turn on a computer. And that no one is pressuring me to buy an i-phone. Because they scare me. Seriously. There's one in our house and it can turn off the computer all by itself. That is just not right. I feel like HAL is going to lock us in and kill us all with the various electronic equipment we own. Death by electric mixer. No thank-you. That's why I use a whisk. I unplug everything that's not in use to save energy, but maybe it will also help if there ever is a battle against the i-phone and its desire for dominance. I sure hope the dog is on our side. I'd like to think she is, but you never really know with dogs, do you? They act like they love you and that they are loyal to the pack, but it could just be because  they don't have opposable thumbs and therefore can't open the pantry and dole out their own food. Maybe they are just waiting for the chance to break out and be the alpha of their own pack and create a world in which they don't have to pee outside in the freezing rain (even though their humans may already be so well-trained that they follow them holding an umbrella over their dog heads).

There was a hawk sitting on our deck yesterday. Our dog better not try and betray us when there's a hawk around.

You know what is gross? Soggy cereal. 

I need to go dig out our snow pants.

Blessings

Christmas Eve seems a good time to reflect on all the blessings of a wonderful year... how very fortunate we are...how amazingly quick time passes as an adult and how slowly it seemed to drag as a child and teenager....It seems rather mind-boggling that so many joyous events could have taken place in the time span of one year. 

My family. I love them so. So much to celebrate. Two engagements...five birthdays...to have the privilege of  being married to my best friend and favorite adult human. To celebrate our life together, to help one another over the fallen branches,to watch with him as our son learned to swim, to slide down a pole, to ride a bike, to spell and add and write, to play soccer, land a cartwheel and flip upside down on the swing set and speak other languages with a perfect accent and made-up his seemingly endless repertoire of knock-knock jokes...

My friends. They complete a part of me I didn't know was missing. They gift me with  laughter, support,camaraderie,  friendship. They have changed the world as I knew it.

The outcome of this year's election. Hope is upon our nation at long last.

Traveling. Being immersed in the society of another country has made me realize what I am missing from my own.

My job. Being paid to do something I love.

Our health. So easy to take it for granted, but I try to celebrate every moment I recall that I am able to bend over and pick-up something off of the floor, that I am able to walk without pain, that my loved ones are not ill or suffering.

So many tiny miracles. Isn't it fantastic that you can plant a seed and it will grow into a plant from which your family will be fed?

 

How grateful I am for this one precious life. I hope only to prove myself worthy of this unbelievable gift.

It's the most wonderful time of the year...well, some years it is.

This has been the loveliest of Christmas seasons. I have to say that I think it may be the lack of presents this year. There just wasn't that pressure to find 9 or 10 perfect items for a dozen different people. There wasn't the endless wrapping, trying to come up with new ideas for said wrapping so that the gift presentation would be even more original and enticing than the previous year. No trying to get that one big gift to knock Mort's socks off before he loses interest in it before the New Year hits. Instead, he's getting four smallish gifts that he's been dropping subtle hints about for months:

Mort: Mommy, can I tell you something?

Me: Sure, sweets. Go ahead.

Mort: I really really really wish I had a Ben 10 watch.

Me: Mmm. Don't forget to finish your carrots.

Mort: What's 6 + 6 + 6 + 6 + 6 + 6 + 2?

Me: I have no idea.

Mort: Now is later. Can I have a snack?

Instead of doing the mad dash of Christmas, we've had a slew of parties and celebratory outings and functions where we've made food and just enjoyed the company of our friends and family. It's been fantastic.

And one of my friends is getting a puppy on the 27th! Very few things in this world smell better than a puppy.

And the television hasn't been turned on for two days. Instead, we've just been reading and listening to music and using a hole puncher on miscellaneous pieces of paper.

And I splurged and finally bought pots and pans that won't kill us with their nonstick coating and/or aren't leftover from Mike's college days. We were down to one pan. Positively un-American.

And we received a new documentary in amongst the Christmas cards today.

And Mort and I came up with a new dance for the Charlie Brown music in the grocery store today. Not one person gave us a dirty look, either. See, it is a lovely time of year.

The Christmas Pagent

On one hand, I'm glad that my child is comfortable in his own skin. On the other hand, he may be getting a little big for his britches. I plan on starting the new year with a chat to his teacher and finding out just how often she has to speak to him about his behavior. Because she had to shush him twice during the Christmas program. And I had to silence him with the patented Mom glare that one is uploaded with upon giving birth because as he stood with his little group to say his line, the boy before him forgot his words and my son dramatically smacked his own head and said, "Oh man!" Last year I would go so far as to say my son was the teacher's favorite. This year, not so much.

He also was spoken to for being too noisy at gymnastics.

Is he becoming that kid? Are we failing? Or is it a combination of too little sleep, too much Christmas activity and back-to-back ear infections and antibiotics? (Please let it be the latter. Thank-you.) 

Ugh. Kids. A constant source of worry.

I am psyched(excuse me as I perpetually live in the 90s) to see the extended family today at the Family Christmas. 

I can't write today. I'm too tired.

Success and failure

Burt's Baby Bees hair and bodywash and Tom's of Maine bodywash. It is almost a burden to be informed. I guess ignorance is bliss. I liked buying whatever smelled good instead of whatever was safest. Now the true test will be if my skin can take it. Unfortunately, I have ridiculously sensitive skin and have been allergic to almost every organic or "natural" skin care product I've ever tried. Yes, it seems crazy, but I am allergic to all that is grows wild and free in nature so it only makes sense that if I rub it on my skin, my skin is going to freak out.

Santa paid a visit to Mort's school today. Mort informed me that Santa wasn't like the other Santa he saw in that his face and voice were very different. This Santa also didn't know what a Ben 10 Watch was. Should Santa admit ignorance when a child requests a certain toy? Especially when some children are already very suspicious of Santa's existence? I chose poorly in preschools. I didn't know that until this year. And now it's too late. Sigh.

Wednesday

So. Tomorrow I have my first appointment with my hair dresser since she "over saturated" the color and turned it black. Why would I pay good money to return to the scene of the crime?

 Because I just don't know what else to do. So many things have been done to my hair that I feel incapable of coloring it myself at this point because every time I try it goes black. And then I have to strip it again. And my roots are bad. When my hair was blond, I guess I didn't realize just how white I am because it blended. Now that my hair is auburn...it's a sobering  aging experience. So, we shall see what can be done.

And speaking of hair, we have reached the point once again where the little man is between getting a haircut or letting it grow. He wants it long. But it's thick and wavy and takes forever to dry,especially as it's winter, so I can't allow it to air dry for fear of him getting a cold. (I never bought into that, but since that British study was released...although they think Victoria Beckham is a beautiful style-maven, so what do they know?) But he does have great hair and it's so cute when it's long.

Between the sick kid, the noisy dog and the freaking owl...oh and the beer with the organic turkey chili, I did not sleep well last night. Can you tell? I don't know what that owl's problem is. I can see the woodland creatures  in our yard just fine. So why doesn't it grab a happy meal special of rabbit burger and shut the hell up?

What else?

Made the switch to cloth napkins finally. And environmentally safe, non carcinogen toothpaste and mouthwash. I'm still trying to track down bodywash that fits into the same category and doesn't cost $32 for 2 ounces. It feels like such a burden to have to worry about all this stuff, but if I failed to make the switch I would feel even worse. And some of the things I already used that I thought were great apparently aren't, but I'm not even certain why that is the case. Trying to be environmentally responsible and protect your family from ingredients other nations have banned for years is overwhelming. Especially when I live somewhere that doesn't have easy access to other options and all that safety costs twenty-three times what the other brands cost.

I just remembered that I got black beans and salsa for lunch today. Yum. (see how easily mollified I am?)

Lazy but grateful

I don't know that we have ever had a busier December. Every weekend  and half the weekdays have been packed with parties and dinners and gatherings and get-togethers.

But even though we're all beat and not getting quite enough sleep, I'm grateful to have so many  wonderful people in our lives with whom we enjoying spending time.

I need to get a bit of a move-on and accomplish a few errands this morning, but it's too lovely lying here in the sunshine like a cat on a windowsill. I may allow myself to drowse a bit instead.

Children can be so joyous---we were playing a game last night with a group of kids, many of whom didn't know one another and every time one of the children was "out", not one of them became sulky or angry. Instead, they all cheered on the remaining players and clapped and laughed and danced. 

And my own little mush has been so sweet of late that he makes my heart ache with his beauty. He has gone from being stingy with the kisses to randomly and solemnly kissing me  first on each cheek, then the tip of my nose, my forehead and  finally chin. And he always smells like fruit and syrup. 

I am awash with emotions, all of them happy. It's good to be mired in living.

Euro, we need you to be sinking in value, not rising.

Isn't today's paper full of good cheer? Toddlers wandering away from a daycare, euro making the dollar look like ass...I hope that I kept my euros that I didn't exchange and didn't give them to Mort for fun money. I need to switch that up if I did and give him a five dollar bill instead. Ah, hell, I might as well give him a 20. It's Christmas after all and it's basically Monopoly money at this point.

Hey, but I did decide on an outfit for one of the Christmas parties we're going to.

And I do have the noisiest dog on the face of the planet who promptly begins her 30 minute wake-up session of vigorous cardio followed by grunting and stretching at 5 am. So, I won't feel too badly when we can no longer afford to feed her.

Oh. My. Gawd.

The Christmas card saga continues.  Out of the 65 or so cards we sent, we have heard from 20 or so people telling us it was hysterical and that they loved it.

 We have heard from two people, neither of whom understood it or what our possible motivation  could be in having the audacity to send a silly picture of our family as opposed to one of us wearing our matching fucking sweaters and sitting in front of the Christmas tree that is placed just to the right of the fireplace, complete with hung stockings and roaring fire.

And of course, the two people who were negative are making me feel like crap while the 20 plus people who liked it are unable to counterbalance the meanies. Who says shitty things about people's Christmas cards? I don't call people asking why they chose the card they chose.When did people start judging one another's FUCKING CHRISTMAS CARDS?!?

 I love Christmas cards in any incarnation. I love seeing pictures of our friends' children whether they are professional pictures, traditional pictures, school pictures or silly snapshots. I like family pictures, dog pictures, it doesn't matter. I love the personal touch and it means a lot to me that people take the time to send a card. I just enjoy them all. One year we received a Christmas card that had two of Jay's cousins dressed-up as Jedis and brandishing light sabers. That was one of our all time favorite cards because the kids were obviously having such a great time in that picture. I didn't call their parents and ask why they weren't wearing santa hats.

In the words of Charlie Brown, "ArrrrrrggggguuuuHHhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!"

Irregardless is not a word

Just in case you thought it was. I'm not saying that you are one of those people. But you have to admit, there are far too many of them out there.

So. I'm still fixated on the Christmas card thing. 

Also, it's rather amazing, but honestly, I have absolutely no sense of direction. None. It took me FOUR tries to get to a place I've been to a million times today. I could visualize it in my head. I just could not figure out how to get there. I kept getting on and off the highway and driving in different directions and through the city and back on the highway. And because we (we being me and my ever constant 4 foot 2 inch companion) had to run 900 errands in the pouring rain 15 days prior to Christmas so that we could get gifts for people who handed us a list and refused to accept our statement that we did not wish to exchange gifts this year,

 [Truly-it went like this: 

Person: So, what do you want for Christmas?

Me: Honestly, nothing. We aren't doing gifts this year. Please don't get us anything.

Person: Well, I'm going to get you something! Here's what we want...

M: Really, don't get us anything. Save your money and come visit us in Italy.

Person: I have to get you something and here's what you can get us.]

 I had promised my ever faithful companion that at the end of fighting our way through malls and bookstores and boutiques and being in the car for so long my back is throbbing we could celebrate by getting ice cream.

And when we pulled up to the mo-fo ice cream place, there's a freaking sign on the door that says "Closed for Winter." Try to explain that to a 4-year-old who is at the end of his rope of cooperation and patience. I understand the closing down of mom and pop places for the winter as it's simply not economical. But this was a freaking chain whose ice cream I don't even like! Luckily another chain was in sight: Starbucks, where I satisfied the slowly melting creature with an organic milk and blueberry muffin.

I'm exhausted. I don't know that I should be, but I am.

Geez

To any and all who received our Christmas card, yes that's us. Yes, it's meant to be funny. Yes, it was created with the magic of computers. (Stella with glasses and a wig? C'mon guys...)Huh. I guess we should have done two cards, because people are either calling us to say it's hysterical or to ask us what it's about because they don't get it. "Is that you? How did you get glasses on Stella?"

I don't know why I didn't discover yogi tea sooner. It really is incredibly soothing and relaxing.

Okay, I'm having baby envy. Everywhere I go, there are these perfect little beings, snoozing in their slings and carriers and baby bjiorns. And someone who is even a couple of months older than I and has a child the same age as Mort just had twins. I'm too old to have this baby lust but when I see these Moms, harried and snappy and definitely non-blissful, surrounded by their gaggle of kids, I can't help but envy them. But kids that are 6 years apart, at best? At my age? When we're in the zone of a wonderful little guy who can pee on his own, brush and floss his own teeth AND keep himself entertained? And will even be in school full-time next year? And do I really want to return to the sleepless nights, the year of turning my body into a sacred baby making temple, the additional year of sacred baby body temple for feeding purposes, going through labor, or a c-section, then trying to regain my body at age 39? And this all with the assumption that my baby would be healthy and my eggs still viable. Ugh. I do wish we would have just done it when Jay was one and a half as we had originally planned. But Duke was finishing up his MBA and then my disc popped out and I was in physical therapy and suddenly it was three years later. I feel like I was meant to have more children. I just don't know if it will happen. I don't know if I want it to happen.

I will sell this house today!

Some mornings, you just wake-up on the right side of the bed. You look outside and see the leftover snow in your garden and a black barn cat hunting in the wee back region of your yard and the sun is not quite in the sky and the Christmas lights are on and you have a weekend ahead filled with parties and dinners and you just feel good.

I had a dream that my Mom was dating Michael Kors. Which is weird on quite a few levels. One being that I fixed them up. The others you can probably figure out for yourself.

Typical, typical

I have a slew of paperwork involving my name change and getting a passport for Mort and just stuff that I don't feel like doing, so I've been shoving it all in a cabinet.

Today, I thought, today I will tackle these things and be done with them. I will remove that little pocket of anxiety that's lurking around reminding me that I have things I need to do that I'm not doing. Like practicing my Italian. That's weighing on me as well. But I just keep finding other things I need to do.

I decided to go get my new driver's licence while Mort was at school. I drove to the DMV, all my documents in hand, and of course it was closed, because I hadn't bothered to check when it was open. I assumed it was open whenever I was ready to go.

And now, because I didn't get that accomplished, I am paralyzed and can't do any of the other tasks until that one is done. I know, it doesn't make sense to me either.

Let's play... "What color is my hair?"

Well, it's a myriad, actually. It's a mix of brown and red and auburn and orange and light brown and the ever popular white that is starting to take over.  I know better. I truly truly do. I need to live by one single rule as far as my hair is concerned and that is, never, ever, ever do anything to it. Give in to my stylist maybe once a year and let her trim the teensiest amount off of my ends. That's it. Don't do anything else.

In the past month, I have gone from having elbow-length hair to having chest length, layered hair. I have gotten bangs. It was blonde. Then it was black. Then it was light brown. Then it was black again. Then it was dark auburn. Then it was flat blackish brown. And now it's a mess of ruin.

I wasn't going to return to my hairdresser, but now I feel I have no choice. I cannot fix this on my own. The color is bad, the bangs are horrid and it looks like a blocky mess. Why do I do this to myself? Why do I not remember that messing with my hair is very painful? It must be like childbirth. You know that it hurt, but you cannot fathom how truly ungodly horrendous it was because your brain protects you so that you will continue to breed.  My brain must protect me from the sheer horror of change as far as my hair is concerned. And so I forget. And I do it again.

11 years ago today

My now husband proposed to me in our apartment in Boston. I was cranky and sick and wearing pjs and a pair of his socks and getting ready to go to work. He was going to propose to me the night before in Little Italy after we had seen the Boston ballet perform The Nutcracker but he didn't count on the fact that I would be sick and out of it on cold medicine. It's a loooong story. But it's a story, alright. I'm sure lots of people have lovely engagement stories--us, not so much.

Although it was a complete surprise, as I had told him I would be happy to live together forever, but I never wanted to get married. You try having parents with 8 marriages between them and see if you think it's a viable institution. My mom is extremely anti-living together (Catholic roots)--can you say 3 months of not speaking to me? And she had the big accusing behind my back talk with Duke of "What are your intentions with my daughter? Why are you willing to live with her but not marry her?" My poor mom. She had to play good cop, bad cop all by herself and be dad and mom both. She felt both better and worse upon Duke's response that he wanted very much to marry me, but I didn't believe in marriage.

But the longer we were together, the more I did want to get married, I just never shared that with him. But as always, he knew. I have to give him alot of credit for helping me to break down all my defensive posturing and just loving me for the me he saw beneath my prickly tough act. He showed me it was okay to be me and that I didn't have to be on guard against everyone all of the time. He showed me it was okay to be silly and laugh and not be so uptight and not care so much about what people thought of me. He loved me unconditionally. He had no idealized version of me. He loved me;gigantic flaws and wack-o behavior didn't deter him in the least. Because seriously, I was a self-destructive train wreck and a half. And with Duke, I didn't have to be.

Happy engagement anniversary. You are my best everything.

Looks like I have a job!

The magazine was pleased with my work and has asked me to continue to work for them! Woo-hoo!

How to tell when you're spinning too fast and your head is not working

The tip-off for me was when I tried to cook my son's turkey dog by putting it in my laptop like it was a George Foreman's Grill.

I'm turning the corner.

This morning I didn't get out of my p.j.s to take the kid to school. And then I went shopping in them as well.

Angry and lazy

I'm angry because the family whose children I'm playing Santa for smoke. And if you can afford cigarettes nowadays, you can damn well afford to buy your kids Christmas presents. Priorities you selfish gits! You aren't going to go without your cigarettes, but you were going to let your kids go without gifts? Quite frankly, I would rather be serving a family who had fallen on hard times and whose children were their top priority. However, I just have to look at it that kids are kids and I'm not doing this for their parents. And at least parents whose children are their first priority have love, whereas children whose needs come second to their parent's addiction do not. But it definitely takes some the sparkle out of gift buying.

I'm lazy because I can't make our house a Winter Wonderland this year. I just can't. I have decorated, but I'm bored with my controlled "perfect" decor and I don't want to do it. I want to mix it up, but I'm not willing to invest in new decorations when that money could be better used. So, we'll see how it all works out.

I may be a old before my time

i often become so furious when I read the newspaper, either because the article is so filled with jackholes and their jackhole behavior or because someone has written in, spewing their hate and ignorance all over my morning coffee. So, I will spend a couple of hours perfecting the retort and/or complaint I have in a letter to the editor. And then I don't send it because really, no one cares.

This morning I wrote two drafts of a letter in response to a situation in "Dear Abby" of all fricking things.

I'm reaching a new low. Soon I'll be wasting my time writing in praising magazines for their outstanding article on how to watch your caloric intake over the holidays.

Okay, I'm not dying! Woo-hoo!

Despite the doctor telling me my blood test results would take a week, I was called last night and I do have a random unknown-how-I-got-it infection, but it can be treated with antibiotics. YAY!

I was so convinced it was Lyme Disease or even worse, MS or one of the other frightening conditions that my symptoms kept pulling up on the Internet. So scary. Thank you for the pass, God.

And my husband was amazing through my entire ordeal. He really reminded me that he is truly in this for better or worse. In the morning, my hands ached so much I couldn't open my allergy medicine, so he would do it; he worked full-time( which for him is often a solid 12 hour day) and did all of Mort's child care, he put the clothes from the washing machine into the dryer without even being asked because he knew I couldn't lift the wet clothes, he folded and put away laundry and made-up the bed, he's done every dish in the house...basically he's done his job and mine as well. When Mort was too loud, he reminded him my head hurt, he made certain I was drinking fluids and taking my aleve. He even went to the pharmacy at 8 pm last night after doing all the dinner dishes so that I could start my treatment right away. I am so fortunate in so many ways.

I have so much to write about the non-joyful feelings i now have about the Christmas gifts I'm getting for a down on their luck family, but I have to get ready to take the kid to this morning's entertainment.

Copied from Another Blog I follow

100 more things

The things I can check-off are in italics


1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo
11. Bungee jumped c
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept overnight on a train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden a gondola in Switzerland
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagra Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen Amish country
36. Taught yourself a new language---well, I'm working on it
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in movie
55. Been in a movie--I've been on a TV show; close enough?
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma--I tried, but at the time I was too thin & didn't qualify. I sure could now!
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi concentration camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten Caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book---I've published short stories
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper--I had a picture I drew in the newspaper, how's that?
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a lawsuit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. One cavity or less---no cavities, thank-you very much

Better in Spirit, not so much in body.

Physically, I don't feel any better, but mentally I feel fantastic. I get to buy presents for a family whose children otherwise wouldn't receive anything for Christmas. We usually do Toys for Tots, but this is so much better because they are gifts the children want but wouldn't have been able to have. And they are asking for such small things that it almost breaks my heart. Every child deserves the opportunity to believe in Santa. I know it's only one family, but as Mother Theresa said, "If you can't feed everyone, feed one person." Or something profound like that. Maybe it's wrong that this is giving me so much pleasure? Does that make it a selfish act? But once you have a child, it's like every child could be yours and you just want to make them all okay. Children don't ask to be brought into this world. They have no say into what circumstances they're born. They can do nothing when their parents fall on hard times.

We are so lucky, because our son is healthy and he asks for so little (he sat on Santa's lap and asked for two toys) and we are lucky because we have a steady income and can make certain Santa brings him those two toys. We are lucky because we have all we need and don't want for any gifts, or food, or clean water, or heat.

And I will gladly trade any gifts I might receive every single year so that I can make certain a couple of children I don't even know get to believe in Santa for just a little longer. In that, I guess it is a huge gift that I'm giving to myself, because my child has the luxury of knowing that when he awakes on Christmas morning, there will be presents beneath the tree, and our family can extend that luxury to other children who don't believe that Santa will be visiting them at all.

I am so very humbled and grateful for this life with which I've been blessed.