me

blessings of love and light

We made our annual pilgrimage to the National Cathedral Monday to see the crèche exhibit.
I made a quick stop in Bishop’s garden on my way around the cathedral.
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It always seems to be cloudy when we go. I’ve looked back at four years of photos and the sky is gray in every single one.
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Doesn’t make it any less beautiful, but it sure would be nice if the sun would make an appearance once in a while.

I turned my attention to the cathedral. Much less scaffolding than in previous years. The repairs from the 2011 earthquake are coming to an end.
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Something stopped me in my tracks on the sidewalk towards the front of the cathedral.
What could it be?
Why robin birds, of course!
There were five of them flitting about the grass and sidewalk as we made our way around the building.
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I was so excited I could hardly stand myself! I spent quite a bit of time watching and photographing these little birds before I could tear myself away to go inside to see all the baby Jesuses.

Downstairs, I peeked in on my most beloved space, the chapel of Joseph of Arimathea.
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Then onto the nativities.
This one was made in Zimbabwe of jacaranda wood.
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I like that the figures are tall and lanky. I like that the shepard cradles the lamb in a way that mimics the way Mary holds her baby. I do so love nativities in which the momma holds her son.

Of course, there is something to be said of the baby bundled up in a basket.
This one was specifically made for the collection in Jamaica at the request of a Cathedral docent.
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I love that he sleeps with a little smile on his face. How many parents have watched our own babies sleep the same way?

This one is hand painted pottery from Turkey.
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I like that it’s just the Holy Family. I also love the traditional Ottoman style of the flowers and designs, not to mention the little rugs especially made for this nativity.

I remarked to YBW that I would only purchase a nativity if it was somehow unique or particularly beautiful. Well, this one sort of met both criteria.
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This gourd was specifically chosen then hand carved in Peru. I particularly love the stars on the back of the lid. (not pictured)

After going through the crèche exhibit, I found my way to the teeny chapel to say my prayers.
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I kneeled on the prayer bench and gathered myself before I began. After my conversation with God, I lit my candle in benediction. As the light grew brighter, my blessings reached far and wide to touch those for whom it was intended. My love and hope are overflowing.
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We left the cathedral and headed to the Ellipse to check out our National Christmas tree. I mentioned before that I love when Hanukkah and Christmas coincide. And I honestly can’t remember a time in my life that both the menorah and the tree were lighted at the same time.
Monday was the third night of Hanukkah.
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(Of course I was on the back side of the menorah.)

YBW wanted to look at all the state and territory trees, but I decided to stay in the inside circle around the big tree. All the trains were set up and running…so many little villages and trains…
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If you look closely, you can see the train circling the base of the tree.

My grinchy heart not only grew three sizes that day, it was filled with the love of ‘ten Grinches plus two’!
I’m waiting patiently for twelfth night. In the meantime, I’m still lighting menorah candles and saying my prayers each night between now and New Year’s Eve.
May the light of my candles bless and keep each and every one of all y’all.

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everybody’s fly

I finally stopped listening to Christmas music today.
Sad face Robynbird.
But when I went back to my ‘regular’ playlist I heard a little Blondie, and was glad I’d left the Christmas music behind.
Fab five Freddy told me everybody’s fly.

Please listen responsibly.

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A very Robynbird Christmas!

I must have “been an awful good girl” because some of the things Santa brought me include:

Books to read.
(The Alton Brown one is signed!)
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Markers for coloring.
(Dying to use these brush tips!)
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Tickets to a show.
(Box seats! What? What?)
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The solar system on a chain.
(Even Pluto little Pluto!)
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An angel for my baby Jesus.
(Actually a tree topper, but I don’t care!)
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The stars and creche, and a new shepard and animals.
(Tears of joy!)
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There was also the softest blankey in the history of the world. Perfume and a new bathrobe. Music from Tony Bennett’s 90th birthday celebration. A Christmas color book, and new gloves. The I Love Lucy box set. And a blu-ray Adventure with Alice to save the Hatter!

Thanks, Santa Baby!
xoxo
Robynbird

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Christmas Eve at Church of the Motion Picture

Saturday night after the Hanukkah candles were lit and prayers said, YBW and I realized we wouldn’t make the early Christmas Eve service at Emmanuel.
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And at roughly 45 minutes each way, we knew we wouldn’t want to attempt the 11:00 service. Sad face Robynbird. I do so love Christmas Eve services.

But then I got an idea! Kind of like the Grinch, only mine wasn’t an awful idea. Mine was a wonderful idea!
I turned to YBW at the foot of the stairs and I said, “Let’s go to ‘Church of the Motion Picture’!”

When he asked what movie we should see, I knew the answer straight away.
assassins-creed
(Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!)

We busted out of the house to get to the shoe store before it closed at six. I decided at the last moment I wanted to wear these shoes to lunch on Christmas day.
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They were 30% off and I’d earned a $10 certificate and I had a store credit from returning a pair of boots. So I got these adorable booties for less than $30 that was already spent! And I rocked them with the cutest dress for going out to lunch on Christmas Day!

We left DSW and headed to Fairfax Corner. We were almost an hour early for the movie so we decided to stop in at Coastal Flats for cocktails. The girl tending bar was called Michelle and she took great care of us. We chatted her up and laughed and generally had a great time.
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I had a Lucky Lounge Lemonade and YBW had a mojito.

After the movie, we came home to open our Christmas Eve pressies. Then snuggled for a long time in front of the fire with a bottle of prosecco before we finally gave up waiting to see Santa and went to bed.

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happy Hanukkah

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I’m only a smitch Jewish, but it’s an important part of my heritage so I like to celebrate when I can.
I especially love when Hanukkah and Christmas coincide.

The prayer for the first night is my very favorite.
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, shehechiyanu ve-kimanu vehigianu lazhaman hazeh.
Thanks be to you, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, for keeping us alive and in good health and for bringing us together.
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Happy Hanukkah, y’all.

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gratitude, not negativity

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My daughter posted this on Facebook and it moved me deeply. (Thanks for sharing, Bear!)
I have recently realized how often I apologize. I’ve become aware of it specifically in my lula transactions. If there’s confusion with a customer or another consultant, I begin my correspondence with ‘I’m sorry’ and have to stop myself.
Most of the time, there’s not even any reason for me to apologize!
I must do it more frequently in daily life but not notice it.

What a beautiful way to create a shift in yourself. In the world around you.
I am going to begin this expression of gratitude not negativity straight away! I’m going to alter my own way of thinking. My own way of being in this world.
I will stop apologizing when it isn’t necessary.
I will focus on my gratitude.
I will change my own world.
I love love love this!

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expectations or “I’m a big tough girl, I tie my own sandals and everything”

I guess it’s that time of year, but I also believe it’s so much more than that too. I believe the universe is speaking to me and I need to take some serious heed.
I’m talking about expectations.

YBW and I had a conversation Sunday about expectations. I got an email this morning from a friend about expectations for his life in the coming year. My last visit to my therapist was a conversation about expectations.
This little red haired girl has been considering expectations for as long as I can remember. But at this time, I think it’s all about my own expectations.

My brain edema really put certain things into perspective for me. I was forced to make life changes I’d been toying with. I was forced to slow my pace. I was forced to slow my compulsion to control everything.
Those were actually quite positive!
Only it left me without any real direction. And for a girl with the desperate need to control what goes on around her, that was worst possible situation in which to be.
I floundered.

But later…
I started my lula business.
I started a new part time job with the county schools. I was offered a second part time position based on my skill set and how much I’m appreciated by the administration.
I began writing more.
I even got my ass in gear when it came to my degree program.

What are my expectations for how I’ll earn money?
I’m working at prioritizing these things. I’m considering how to move forward with some but not all of these things.
YBW is talking more and more about how great I am with children. How happy I seem when I’m talking with and working with children. He’s always impressed when children come up to me in Wegmans or Target and start talking to me, “You’re at my school!” “I see you at lunch!” “You’re in the classroom now.”
YBW remarks how much impact I have on these children simply by being in the same building with them each day.
He’s got a point. All I ever wanted to do was be a mommy and a teacher.

Which brings me to my expectations for how I can be a mom to far away children and children that aren’t really mine.
This is the thing that is killing me every single day. Sometimes softly and silently, sometimes with a Rebel Yell and the cries of the dying.
I’m not exactly sure how to write about this…but mostly I’m thinking this is for journaling and not for blogging.

Expectations for marriage are tricky.
I have nothing really to base them on. But I know what I want and what I don’t want. Mostly I want to be on the same page as YBW. I’ve struggled with the feeling that while we’re in the same book, we may not in the same chapter. I suspect that is my perception, more than anything. But it is a nagging feeling I can’t seem to shake. So through conversations, some simple, some fairly painful, we talk about where we are. Where we want to be. How we might get there.
We charged each other to get very clear about our expectations. We set a date to come together with these clear expectations and compare.

I’ve spent my life worrying about other people’s expectations of me. Some of these were so ridiculously out of reach I’ve felt a failure for most of my adult life. But I developed a few of my own, and guess what? I met them. Know why? Because they were realistic and I am capable.
My most accomplished expectations are for the way I was (and continue to be) a mom. I look at those girls, as flawed as they are (because, let’s be real, who isn’t?), and I know I met my expectations for being their mom. I taught them how to love, how to fail, how to be successful. I taught them sarcasm and that it’s perfectly acceptable to express yourself. I taught them to fight for what they believe in. I taught them that I’ll have their back. I taught them that even the most overbearing mothers can learn from their children. But for me, the most important expectation of all was that I got joy from being a mom. Those girls have given me so much joy and I embraced it and lived in it!
I am a better mom than my mom was. I’ve met most all of my expectation I had of myself when it came to being a mom.
And for the most part, they’ve met my expectations for them. They’re smart. They’re capable. They have compassion. They love fiercely. They have goals. They experience the good and bad and have the skills to come out the other side more aware.
Honestly, what more could I ask for?

Now I’m going to create new expectations for myself.
It frightens me to ask the question, “What do I want?” and to actually answer it.
But I’ve got this!
Like Megara, I’m a big tough girl. I tie my own sandals and everything.
meg-and-hercules

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undermining myself

I have this terrible habit of not expressing precisely how I feel if I think there’s a chance it’ll be met with resistance. Example: I sort of wanted to go to a partly last night. A party for a woman who is the mother of a child I used to teach in preschool. She’s celebrating a milestone birthday and I thought it might be fun to “show my face”. It’s important to say that I was not clamoring to go, I just felt like I might want to. YBW asked me earlier in the day if I wanted him to go with me. I told him, yes I did. (And here’s where I begin to undermine myself) But I also told him that if he didn’t want to go, that was OK too.

Later on when it was time to think about leaving the house, I got frustrated because he chose to take the out I so graciously gave him. I came upstairs and changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth and got ready for bed. I was cutting off my nose to spite my face, but I was in no frame of mind to be around people.

I set myself up to fail.
I’m so adept at it, I almost never realize I do it.

Last night I realized it.
YBW and I had a conversation that began on an unrelated note, but found it’s way to this particular subject matter. I said something about how when the roles are reversed, I would go with him because I knew that he wanted to go and would like it if I went with him.
He said something to the effect that in that case, I’m being the better person.
At first I thought he meant I did it purposefully. That I thought I was a better person than he is, that I do these things to be the better person. He assured me that wasn’t the point.
So I asked then why did he choose not to be the better person.
I don’t remember if he answered me or not.
But here’s why: What I did was give him an out and hope that he wouldn’t take it.

I’m not skilled at saying what I want.
I spent a lifetime learning not to express those kinds of things. I learned quickly that what I may or may not want didn’t matter. I learned that I was to do what was expected of me without question. This was my childhood.
The moment I began to do what I wanted, I was unceremoniously ejected from my home.
Let me assure you, a traumatic event like that will give you pause. And reinforce the fact that anything I may or may not want were irrelevant.
I chose a passive aggressive, master manipulator as my first husband. I was expertly fooled into believe I was not only able to express what I wanted, but that I would also get it. This was tricky for me. It looked like I was finally able to articulate what I wanted and I was amazed by it. Only, it wasn’t really what I wanted most of the time…the sabotage was so subtle I didn’t realize it was happening.
I might express my desire, but for the most part it went unfulfilled.
Eventually I began to understand how it worked and stopped expressing my wants all together. I would simply deffer.
Example: If asked where I would like to go to dinner, I might have something I really wanted to eat but I would never say it, I would simply respond with something like, It doesn’t matter to me, where would you like to go?

It was hurtful to be specifically asked what I wanted and then not actually get it. So I learned to stop wanting things. I learned to stop expressing my opinion.
But I didn’t like it.
It created a toxicity in me. A bitter resentment.

A pattern is created and then it creates how one functions. I knew better than to express myself, but I hated it. I hated the people who started it, and I hated myself for perpetuating it.
Most of the time I try to be hyper-aware, but it’s so easy to fall back into a lifelong pattern…

I am creating a self-fulfilling prophecy with YBW.
I’m not giving either of us a chance.
If I don’t say what I want, I won’t get it. And then I get mad. At him. At myself.
If I say what I want and then add a caveat based on his wants, I hope he’ll show me how wonderful he is and do what I want even though I’ve given him an out. I’m setting him up to fail. I’m setting myself up to fail. And then I get mad when we fail.

Now, I’m not saying this is entirely my responsibility. It’s his too. But I need to trust that he’s not going to repeat the same patterns I’ve already experienced. I need to be clear and then see what his choices are.
If I’m clear beyond a shadow of a doubt that I want him to go with me to a birthday party and he chooses not to go, then I have a right to be hurt and frustrated and mad.
But if I’m not clear, if I say, but if you don’t want to, that’s OK, then he’ll choose what’s most comfortable for him. And when I get hurt and frustrated and angry it won’t make any sense.

I’m not good at expressing what I really want, sometimes I’m even worse at even understanding what I really want. It’s a skill set I need help with. I need to practice more.
It’s just so much easier to deffer, to say, “It doesn’t matter to me, whatever you want.”
I’m still getting hurt, but I’m not letting anyone else hurt me. I’m doing it myself.
I’m aware that is some kind of twisted logic…but it’s my logic.
And I’m working on it.

I’ve tasked myself to journal about expectations.
I have a feeling I’m going to surprise myself.

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a very Idol Christmas

My love for Billy Idol knows no bounds.
But this video…well…it kind of makes me giggle.
Meh, who cares? It’s Christmastime, and I’m ready to Jingle Bell Rock!
Please listen responsibly.

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the spirit of Christmas

I got an email this morning about listening to Christmas music, and geographical facts about the North Pole, and finally, how “Santa’s house at the North Pole is allegedly in Alaska just off Route 2″…
(In the immortal words of Deadpool, “What in the ass?”)
deadpool

So this got me thinking about Santa and his reindeer and the elves…
Which in turn got me thinking about the Christmas spirit…
And here’s what I wrote in response…

Santa doesn’t live in Alaska! He’s not American! He’s of no nationality! He’s just Santa. (Yes I know the origins of his story, but we’re discounting those for the sake of this conversation!)
I know you’re getting all technical about the North Pole…but I believe Santa’s home and workshop are…well…a load of crap if you want the truth.
(It actually surprised me when I wrote those words!!)
santa-north-pole

I truly love the idea of Santa.
Santa is the spirit of Christmas! The spirit of giving and love and well, even hope. Because some folks who don’t really dig the baby Jesus do dig Santa. Anyway…it’s fun to think of workshops and elves and the like. But I sort of feel like we all carry the spirit of Christmas in us…that we each have a little bit of Santa in us.
I don’t know…

I remember when Thing 1 asked me about Santa, she was eleven and in 6th grade.
She asked if I was Santa.
I asked her what she thought.
She said, “I think you’re Santa.”
I told her about Santa being the spirit of Christmas and giving, and love. I explained that I believed so strongly in Santa, the spirit of Santa…but that a fat man in a red suit didn’t bring the presents into this house.
She paused for a moment, and she said, “I’m going to believe in the spirit of Santa too, Mommy. But I know who brings the presents into this house.”
And then we hugged for a long time.
I made her promise not to tell Thing 2 and we went along our way.

The spirit of Christmas is what I love above all else.
Do I believe that the world waited for a light to enter? Absolutely!
light
Was that light really a little Jewish baby called Joshua (later mistranslated to Jesus)? I honestly don’t know. But I love the idea that a baby could create that much hope. That much love. That much light.

So, maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with the baby Jesus at all…(though how could it not?)
Maybe the spirit of Christmas really is just love and hope and light.
Maybe the spirit of Christmas is simply the idea of Santa Claus bringing these gifts.
Gifts chosen by someone who loves you so much that they work hard to make sure you have the right thing, beautifully wrapped so you know how much you are loved. So you know how much love and light and hope is in the world because someone loves you.
Anyway…that’s what Christmas is to me…for the most part.

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