me

making a list and checking it twice

I’ve been so busy making lists and checking them twice, I just realized I haven’t started a countdown to everything I’m excited about in the next two weeks!
Thing 2 will be here in four days! We’ll be at the ballet in six. Thing 1 and fiance N will be here the very next day.
Okey doke, countdown checked off my list.

I talked with Thing 2 today and we’re all about getting dressed up all fancy to go to the ballet. Even though we’ve seen the Nutcracker several times, we’re both positively giddy! There will be so much squealing and clapping. We’re just little girls at heart.

YBW had the idea that we should do our annual trip to see the nativities at the Cathedral on Christmas Eve. I can hardly wait to see all the baby Jesuses!
Both the girls are excited to go and you know I’m thrilled! It’s my favorite Christmas outing and this year, my camera’s stupid SD card won’t be wonky so I won’t lose all my photos!

The boys come home from their mom’s after church Christmas Eve, then we’ll do Christmas Eve pressies. They know they’ll find jammies and a book under the tree, but love the tradition. I’m so pleased I’ve been able to introduce this special tradition to YBW and the boys. Thing G absolutely adores his jammies.

All the gift shopping is finished. I’ve wrapped everything and sorted out all the stocking “stuffers” into individual bags for ease of filling on Christmas Eve.
The majority of Christmas dinner has been ordered from Wegmans with a few special dishes to be made here at home. Thing 1 loves to cook, so I’m counting on her to be my sous chef. Actually, I’d rather be her sous chef…but we’ll see how it goes. Thing 2 is developing her cooking skills so we’ll call her to action too. Thing C is great at getting everything set up, so I’ll be relying on him for that.
With YBW’s mom, and brother and his family, we’ll be eleven for Christmas dinner. There’s a part of me that balks at the concept, but what the hell? The more the merrier!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year!
My joy is simply unquantifiable!

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a boozy debate

So Thing C and I are playing a drinking game while watching the Republican debate.

Thing C is drinking Angry Orchard Cider.
ANGRY.ORCHARD

I’m drinking Leinenkugel Cranberry Ginger Shandy.
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We drink each time one of the candidates says something stupid.
Oh…tomorrow is going to SUCK!

We finally had to turn it off…we simply cannot listen any longer.
Because we don’t discriminate, we’ll be playing the same game with the Dems, too.

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paint and a bit of roughhousing

I babysat this afternoon for a friend and neighbor. A five year old (didn’t make the kindergarten cut off) girl and her two and a half year old little brother. Normally when I babysit for this family, it’s in the evening when the little dude is already sleeping and his big sister and I play for a bit before her bedtime. But today it was full on fun!
Big sis, M, and I took advantage of our unseasonably warm weather and took paints and paper onto the table on the back porch.
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This is my favorite of M’s paintings. First, she painted her mom, “Miss Robynbird, what color pants was Mommy wearing?” (She was wearing jeans.) Then she added herself with a “tropical bird” on her shoulder.
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My painting is more self-explanatory.
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I absolutely adore my tree, but the pressies…meh. I’m not an artist like that, but I love to play with color.

Little brother, B woke up and we had a snack. Then we played. It’s been a loooooooong time since I rolled around on the floor “roughhousing” with small children. When B accidentally head butted me we changed the nature of our play. My head is hurting a little this evening, but it was worth it. I miss spending my days with small people.

Then I came home and the boys and I had breakfast for dinner!
It was a pretty great Robynbird day.

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Dude, I got mad skills.

Thing 1 sent me a message yesterday in the late afternoon: So, I totally didn’t inherit your wrapping ability.

This made me giggle.
It’s true that I have exceptional gift wrapping abilities.
mad-skills

I suggested it was because she didn’t have as many years of practice as I have.
She has fine motor dyspraxia. A condition that has plagued her all her life. I reminded her of this, and assured her that it’s not an excuse, but it can certainly contribute to having trouble.

She told me that she would wrap a gift beautifully and feel like she’s getting the hang of it, but then the next one would look as though a two year old wrapped it.

I think she needs practice. I offered to help her.
To which she replied the most Thing 1 thing: You must verse me in the ways of the present wrapping, oh mighty queen of the world.

Then she sent me a photo.
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I think they look pretty decent. No, they’re not up to my wrapping standards…but that doesn’t make a bit of difference. I absolutely love that Tiffany blue paper with the white swirls!

I feel the same way about wrapping gifts that I feel about folding laundry. I love it! Everything about it. The orderly-ness of folding and stacking. Getting the seams folded just right and taped up. Then bows and ribbons to make it froufy.
I’m thrilled to help her learn to make fancy pressies! Moms should always attempt to pass their skills along.
I don’t know that I’m especially good at it for any reason other than my love of the process.

Here’s a sample from under our tree.
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Does practice make perfect? Not always, there are times when I see a gift I wrapped and cringe. Then there are times when I’d like to start a museum for beautifully wrapped gifts.
I’m not sure it matters who wraps the prettiest gifts.
I don’t think N cares that Thing 1 may have wrapped his gifts a little wonkily.
I don’t think anybody I gift cares how much work I put into making their packages pretty.
I encourage the ripping of paper as gifts are being opened.
It all ends up going out with the recycling in the end.

And here’s a truth, that girl can out bake me eight times out of ten. Perhaps we’re just skilled at what we’re skilled at? Or are we simply better at doing the things we love?
Doesn’t matter.
I’ll wrap.
She can bake.
And that way, everybody ends up happy.

Categories: me, on being a mom | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Christmas is about hope.

I found a new charm for my bracelet.
After I wrote the santa baby post, I went to Tiffany’s website to see if there were any cute charms for my bracelet.
Well it turns out there are many, but this is the one I want most of all!
christmas-tree-charm-33874413_938839_ED

Of course it’s too late to ask for it because all the shopping is finished and mostly wrapped and under the tree.
I have no expectations at finding this in my home on Christmas morning.
I just like to look at it and smile.
It’s a pretty little bauble that makes me happy to look at.

When we were little, Grandaddy used to say to us: You’re old enough for your wants not to hurt you.
He had a point.
I absolutely adore this charm.
It would be lovely on my bracelet.
Do I want it? Probably.
Do I need it? No.
Can I live without it? Absolutely.

Christmas is about hope.
The hope a baby brought to this world.
When I think of it that way, hoping to have this charm on my bracelet one day seems trivial and selfish.
Hope is lovely, isn’t it?

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santa baby

I absolutely adore this holiday tune!
The original was recorded in 1953 by the ever fabulous Eartha Kitt.
You can listen here: Santa Baby ~ Eartha Kitt

She sings her wishlist to Santa in a playful and sexy way.
I like this combination of playful and sexy. She was a sex bomb! But she was also a down to earth kind of girl. I love that about her. I love that about myself. I’m playful. I’m sexy. And I’m not afraid to be either, or both.

She also asks for a sable which was much more acceptable in 1953 than in 2015, but like Eartha, I too, long for one.
She wants a ring, but not on the phone. How sassy is that?
(I don’t need a ring, Santa. YBW sorted that for me.)
I am, however a great big fan of things that come in the legendary little blue box, so if you’d like to decorate with baubles from Tiffany, I support that wholeheartedly!

In 2011 came an unlikely remake of Santa Baby. By the ever delicious Michael Buble.
Now at first, I was confused.
Then I listened.
You can listen here: Santa Baby ~ Michael Buble

The first time I listened I felt annoyed. There was a whole lot of me thinking: Lookahere, buster! Did you really need to remake this song if you were going to make all these changes?
But then I listened more and began to enjoy it.

He calls Santa: buddy, pally, dude and poppy. It’s obviously more “guy like” than calling him baby. But I think that’s a bit of the problem. It’s as though he and Santa are pals. It doesn’t seem as much singing a wishlist as much as talking with one of his buddies.
(Actually I rather enjoy when he calls Santa ‘dude’. It makes me giggle.)

Of course the things he asks for had to change, partly because he’s a guy and partly with the times. Almost sixty years later, we simply want different things. (A sable, for example, isn’t OK to want in this day and age and we all know why.)
So he asks for a Rolex instead. A fancy watch because he’s a guy. He also changes the car from a ’54 convertible to a ’65 convertible. This guy wants a muscle car not a big ol’ finned boat. Changes the color too, maybe light blue is too girlie for him? He asks for steel blue.
He wants hockey tickets and “cha-ching”. Apparently Tiffany’s isn’t up his alley, he opts for decorations from Mercedes.
But really, dude, why you gonna hang the Mercedes symbol on your tree, that’s just sad. Don’t you know all good things come in the little blue box?

So boys are weird. But this we know.
Anyway, I love his version of this song too. Not as much as the original…probably because I’m a girl. Though I am with Michael on one thing…I’d rather have a muscle car than a big ol’ finned boat. But I’d want mine BRG not steel blue. (I’m just sayin’)

Mostly what I’d like to say is this:
Thanks, Santa Baby. Because I’m getting the best pressie this year! And it’s not in a little blue box.
It’s having my whole family with me to celebrate my most favorite holiday. Two girls and three boys and a new part of my family too, one more boy.
But if you do think I’ve been an awful good girl, I’m open to a new (Tiffany) charm for my (Tiffany) bracelet…I’ll leave it up to you.

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dance of the sugar plum fairy

Thing 2 arrives December twentieth, three days before her sister. It’s just how it worked out, Fiance N is coming with Thing 1, but boyfriend D isn’t coming with Thing 2. Thing 2 will be here for Christmas, but back in SC with boyfriend D for New Years. Thing 1 and N will stay with us through the new year.

Thing 2 and I are going to oodgey-goodgey our favorite theatrical entertainment and see The Washington Ballet dance The Nutcracker at Warner Theatre.

photo cred: The Washington Ballet

photo cred: The Washington Ballet

We’ve seen this particular ballet before. (More than once, even.) But how could I pass up the opportunity when I haven’t had Christmas with my baby at actual Christmastime in two years?

I left her a message asking if she’d like to go. I got a text back within three minutes that read: Dude, yes!! I’m sorry I didn’t answer, I’m having a deep talk with Anna. (Her BFFL, who just recently returned to SC.) But I would absolutely love to go!

I’m so excited we’re going to the ballet!
I’m so excited both my babies will be with me for Christmas!
YBW is excited he doesn’t have to go to the ballet with me. (Yet…The National Ballet of Canada is coming to the Kennedy Center Opera House with Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale in January…I asked him the moment he got home if he’d go with me…cross your fingers!)
He doesn’t hate the ballet, but he doesn’t love it…he goes because he loves me and I suspect he secretly gets a great deal of pleasure experiencing my absolutely pure ballet joy.

Thing 2 was a ballerina for six years, then figure skater for two. (I’ve always considered figure skating as ballet on ice.) She didn’t do it because of me. She did it because she announced one day at the age of two that she was going to be a prima ballerina when she grew up. (How the eff did she even know what that was at that age?)
The kid was a natural. But when the ballet studio changed ownership it became a place where she grew increasingly uncomfortable. She announced she was finished. I searched for another school, but she had lost her passion. It had become tainted for her.
I wonder if she really even remembers that.

We share this deep love for the ballet, and together we will be as little girls joining Clara on the night of her astounding dream.
We’re going on the twenty second of December, it would have been my mom’s seventieth birthday. Somehow that makes it even more special to me.

Bolshoi Ballet’s Nina Kaptsova Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy 2010

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I’m the happy elf!

I took all the gifts from the hidey closet yesterday. I sat in the floor surrounded by boxes of wrapping paper and bags of bows on one side and the bags of pressies on the other. Netflix gave me White Christmas and I began to wrap.
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All the special Christmas Eve gifts (always new jammies and a book) went under the little tree in the family room
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The rest went under the big tree in the front room.
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YBW carried them all up and dropped them off, I haven’t organized them yet.

I’ve wrapped every single gift we’ve already purchased. More gifts will come in the next couple weeks. Oh how I love to wrap gifts!
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

I found out yesterday that both Thing 1 and Thing 2 will be here for Christmas this year! This makes me so happy I can hardly stand it!
Need to get new stockings and hangers…meeting Sundance Friday for a little shopping.

I’m totally the Happy Elf!!

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gettin’ in the mood (for Christmas)

Now that Thanksgiving is in my rear view mirror, I can head towards my most favorite holiday of all! (I may have squealed a little when I typed that.)

I potted a tiny spruce tree in the giant pot on my front porch yesterday, going to light and top it today.
All three trees are up. Two are lighted. None are decorated.

Made new bows, one for the tree on the porch, one for the brand new tree downstairs.
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Three of the (I won’t tell you exactly how) many nativities are up.
This is the brand newest one! I found it in this teeny shop, it was hand carved in Ecuador.
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On today’s agenda: Light the big tree and the porch tree. Decorate all three trees. Set up the rest of the nativities. Finish other decorating. Find ornaments for these three boys and Thing 2’s D.
I give each kid an ornament every year for Christmas so that eventually when they have their own tree they’ll have ornaments to put on it.

I just downloaded new Christmas tunes including James Brown’s Funky Christmas! Thing C might be the only other one to appreciate that as much as I do.

It’s “small business Saturday” and we’re going to zip over Old Town to see what we might need…after a bit of breakfast.

Like Brian Setzer I’m Gettin in the Mood (for Christmas) (Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!)

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I probably get more worked up than necessary…

I may have mentioned once or twice that I don’t “super love” Thanksgiving.
Alas, that day is upon us again so here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to lay it all down and walk away.

I don’t want to do what’s “required” of me today.
That would be riding in the car with YBW to get his mom and go over his brother’s house to eat the Thanksgiving meal.
Perhaps it’s because I don’t have any family. Perhaps it’s because I’ve already lived through the “this could be my mother’s last (insert holiday/milestone here) with the former husband.
I very much understand combining families means the combining of rituals. But my hope was that in creating a new family, there would be room for new rituals. This would mean a mixture of the two.
Of course I understand wanting to celebrate with your family. YBW’s mother is eighty-five years old, how many more holidays/milestones could she possibly have?
The other side of that coin is that he’s had forty-four years of celebrating with her.

He reads my words, so there will totally be a conversation about this later…but that’s not the point.

Yesterday we were invited to a holiday party at friend’s of his. This is an annual event that’s been going on for more years than I actually know. He loves this particular party and looks forward to it every year. When we were apart, he would see if I could be here the weekend of the party, which never worked most often because one of the Things would have a school commitment the same weekend. So when I finally moved here he was so excited to take me to this party! It has a gift exchange, but the thing about it is that it’s horrible gifts nobody wants. I’m not sure I understand the wasting of money like that. On something that is either going to be trashed or rewrapped for return to the exchange the following year. (Of course, I’ve never had disposable income. Everything purchased at the holidays is always well thought out and specifically for someone who needs or wants it.)
Anyway, I agreed to go even though I was so anxious about being in a room full of people when I only knew four of them. What he doesn’t understand is that anxiety I have. Being social with people I don’t know is physically painful for me. So off we go, with the caveat that I won’t participate in the gift exchange, I chose to observe, it being my first year and all.
Well, when it comes time to draw numbers, I politely decline and then YBW’s sister in law pipes up with something about how they brought an extra gift and I can use it. I thank her and decline once more. Then YBW turns and tries to convince me that it’s fun and I should participate.
That was the moment I was officially done.
When I said that yesterday, I had barely taken a breath to continue talking when he apologized.
That wasn’t the point. I don’t want you apology a year later. I want you to listen to how I feel.
He reasoned that if I had done something that hurt him I would apologize.
Of course I would. But this wasn’t the time! I was trying to express myself.
I believe he apologizes to make himself feel better. I believe this is unintentional. I don’t think he is even aware…

I swear to you there is not only a point, but also a connection…

YBW asks me if I want to go to this party. I say no, but I’ll go if you want to.
Well this turns into a very uncomfortable conversation in the car.

What we have here, y’all, is a failure to communicate.

So I reply that he loves this party, he’s excited to go and because I love him and know how excited he is I’m ready to go.
But then he says he thinks he’s “dragging me against my will” because I said I didn’t want to go.
(Ah, the dreaded catch 22.)
He doesn’t like it when I defer to him when he asks a question. e.g.: If I had said: I’ll go if you want to go. when he asked me if I wanted to go to the party then I’m not telling him what I really think/want. But when I answer truthfully to the question: Do you want to go? and the answer is: No I don’t. He struggles with that.
Which has to do with him knowing I’ve spent my whole life doing what everyone else wanted so I shouldn’t have to do this if I don’t want to.
And that is kind.

But what really happened when he heard me say no was he thought it would be a case of he could go and I would respectfully decline and not go.
(This is where my actual point happens. And hopefully you’ll see the connection.)
He didn’t want any part of that because “he went to too many parties without his wife” and that’s not something he’s willing to do.
You see, the mad alcoholic second wife, never did anything with him as a couple.

Ah ha! Now we’re getting somewhere!
He is unwilling to go without me because he doesn’t want to feel like that anymore.
OK. So why when I say: I’m happy to go with you. does he not hear that? Well that’s because I told him I didn’t want to go.

I probably got way more worked up about this than was necessary…

He takes the “I can’t say anything right” stance. And I counter with “No, I can’t say anything right.”
But neither is true.
I explained to him that he doesn’t like if I defer when he asks a question so I answered it truthfully. He didn’t like the answer. So then it occurs to him that he should ask a different question. Instead of do you want to go? he asks: Are you willing to go.
Of course I’m willing to go. I love you and you want to do this therefore I’m going to do it with you.

Nothing and I mean nothing gets resolved in the car ride. How very us.

Anyway…I said there was a point and a connection…I just had to go all the way round Robin Hood’s barn to get there.

I said: I’ve already lived through the whole “this could be my mother’s last…”
This isn’t his fault but he must pay the price.
He said: I went to too many parties without my wife…
This isn’t my fault but I must pay the price.

We carry our baggage with us no matter how hard we try.
So I’ll go to Thanksgiving with his family. Perhaps there will come a time when we create our own rituals…

He switches holidays with his Things mother. So every other year it’s Thanksgiving or Christmas. Even twenty-two year old Thing C.
I don’t have that luxury.
Thing 1 is about to move into her own home with her fiance N. I would like to consider celebrating holidays with her at some point. Especially because within the next few years, I’ll have a grandbaby.
This will force new rituals. And they will either mean us celebrating holidays separately with our own children or we will have to figure out how to do it together.

All this drama simply to overeat?…why don’t I like Thanksgiving again?

Two days ago was the one month anniversary of us being married. I glanced as I walked past him and was filled with so much love. I stopped and told him I was so happy I was married to him.
Yesterday not so much. My instinct to run nearly overpowered me. I seriously considered getting out of the car at a traffic light. But I didn’t. I tried to be a grown up and discuss the madness.

Here’s what sucks.
He’s going to read this and this is what I fear he’ll take from it.
1. I don’t like his family.
2. I don’t like his friends.
He hears what has been conditioned to hear, not what I say.
I can’t fix that.

I also do what I’ve been conditioned to do.
I defer. Because when I say or do what I really want, it bites me in the ass. I don’t blame him for that. It simply is. It was always thus.

What I struggle with is where to go from here.
I don’t feel like things get resolved. I don’t know how to make that happen, so I beat things into the ground. That ain’t fun for anyone.

Perhaps I should learn to like Thanksgiving. Maybe there would be less drama if I wasn’t such a bitch about it.
Poor YBW, he didn’t believe that I was such a raging bitch. That I’m a hot hot mess. I guess I didn’t believe he was a hot hot mess either…
Love is blind right?
I’m thankful that YBW is part of my world. However jacked up that world is, we’re in it together.

The parade is on and I’m tired of being a whiny crybaby so I’m going to watch and wait for Santa to show up.
Then Thanksgiving is over and we’re on to Christmas.
I’m holding out for new rituals…

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