Enough

Last night was it, the night Christmas Desolation set in.  It happens every year, this moment, though it manages to surprise me each time.  It is a disorienting sensation of emptiness in a time that is full, darkness amid all the lights.  It is a sad and lonely and rather whiny thing, this Christmas Desolation,  usually triggered by a series of of small annoyances which, when contrasted with the gaiety, ribbons and joy of the season, suddenly seem cataclysmic.

Last night, I found myself mired in these: the dog has a rash and the furnace is misbehaving; my students have been oppositional and my children, demanding: the dishes are piled in the sink, there are 6 loads of laundry to fold, the floors are dirty and I haven't done a lick of schoolwork tonight; the days are fleeting and I just don't have any really good presents for anyone this year.

Yeah, I know.  But sometimes its the little things that tangle you up, you know?

Then, Nat and I watched an episode of "Louie".  For those unfamiliar with the show, its the story of a dour-faced stand-up comedian in his 40's, living a pretty mundane life in NYC.  It's irreverent and raunchy and really very funny, but not usually profound.  Last night's episode, though-- it was downright heartwarming.  Louie discovered the beauty of good neighbors, taught his kids about fairness, and told a lot of jokes along the way.

And there was this one line, spoken to the 4 year old daughter who was jealous of her sister:

 "The only time you should look in your neighbor's bowl is to make sure they have enough."

And that got me.

To make sure they have enough.  Not to see if they have more.  Not to see if their floors are cleaner, their decorations more stunning, their gifts more impressive.

Just to see if they have enough.

This holiday season-- its been sneaky, arriving so fast, life all in a rush around it.  Hardly time to clean or breathe, much less shop.  Much less root around in my purse for change to put in the bell-ringer's bucket.  Or pull out the coats I've been meaning to donate.  Or spare a moment's thought for my neighbor's bowl.

There is a child in Jack's classroom who does not have any winter boots.  Whose family just got their heat turned back on two weeks ago.  There is not enough in their bowl.

There is enough in mine to share.

I don't mean for this to be a depressing post.  Stopping to think about the caring I've not been doing, the kindnesses I've not had time for-- somehow that is the cure for Christmas Desolation.  Amid the lights and the ribbons and the gaiety and the rush of the season there is emptiness, darkness much more real than my small litany of complaints.

But there is also the chance to do something about it. And there is time to slow down and try.

Time to refocus.  Time to see all the light.  Time to do my best to spread it.

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And in the meantime,  some pictures for you.  This time, rewinding to the week before Thanksgiving, while Nat was out of town at the AAR conference-- a wonderful meet-up at the History museum, lunch out in Little Italy, and hosting Greg for the afternoon.  Three crazy kids squeezed into a Hyundai!  And these two big boys, such friends, playing so well together.  A grand day.

And, the day after Thanksgiving.  First snow of the season = first sled of the season.  Never mind that they were sledding on grass.  It was slippery grass and that's all that matters.  The girl can pull her own sled back up the hill now.  If that doesn't make her seem grown up, I don't know what will...

Shortly after sledding, Nat and I ran off for a short getaway at a cottage in Mansfield.  Actually, I kidnapped Nat, surprising him with the secretly planned trip for his birthday.  It was a ton of  fun-- the secret planning, and the time away as "just us".  We rather like "just us."  And nice dinners out and thrift shopping and exploring a new place together.  Lucky us.

We decorated for Christmas that weekend, and had a cozy evening with friends amongst the stockings and garland and Christmas music.. which yielded this moment:

Christmas kisses.  I love these children.

Finally, a sneak peek at Christmas photos 2013.  Cards to come!  Sometime.  :)

Catching up... with gratitude

It was a lovely November for sure, from the looks of my Thirty Days entries.  It is becoming one of my favorite traditions, the daily gratitude blog in the days leading up to Thanksgiving.  Something about a reflective daily practice helps time to spread out a bit, with all the noticing. 

I am grateful for a long November.

Then-- suddenly-- it was Thanksgiving!  And birthdays!  And December!  So soon!

The holidays are upon us and we are about 80% ready to launch.  I am loving our decorations this year and the Christmas music on the radio and my giddy-excited little ones bounding to their Advent calendars each morning, and I am grateful for all of it.

I'd just like it to slow down a bit.  At least enough for me to write about it all!

So here goes.  In a few moments stolen between CircleFest and our holiday photo shoot this morning, and my WSC concert tonight, I'd love to tell you about our Thanksgiving.

A quick Facebook conversation between a few cousins led to a table in the breezeway at Aunt Pat's house that looked like this:

 ... and the back-in-time view of my aunts working in the kitchen, here at Grandma Gertie's house.

 

In my mind's eye was the overall of green appliances and the little round-ended breakfast bar, old wood cabinets and my tiny grandmother, eyes sparkling, pulling out the swiss cheese and crackers and hugs for us all.

I love that Aunt Pat has kept so many things the same in this house, this place of soft and gentle memories from my childhood..

This Thanksgiving Grandma Gertie was in all of our hearts as we gathered 23 relatives for lots of conversation and enough food to feed several small nations.  The only people missing were my Dad and Ana-- and thanks to the magic of Skype they joined us for part of the meal, passed around on the screen of my phone for boisterous greetings as we passed food and clattered serving dishes.  We only dropped them in the mashed potatoes once.

I love my family.  They are loud and honest and loving, irreverent and loyal and welcoming to all.  I am so happy to have these opportunities to become friends with my cousins now that we're all adults and age differences aren't that noticeable any more.

My favorite moments of the day?  Watching Jack and Ivy becoming fast friends with the newest generation of Strasburg cousins:  Kyler, Emma, John-John, Lauren and Sarah.  Especially when they gathered on the carpet outside the magical light-up coat closet of all toys.  Another back-in-time moment-- watching them I was 8 years old again, eagerly opening that same door to step into the world of little people and vintage dolls that awaited inside, a secret just for me.  

I am so grateful for this opportunity to give them these memories, too.  

Fall Leaves, redux

 I'm really going to miss fall this year.

It's been good to us.

On a treat of a two-and-a-half day weekend (a perk of late-night conferences last Thursday), we got in one more perfect fall afternoon, with a hike to the stream in Bedford.

  The kids both hiked down and back on their own power, with enthusiasm and many side trips to investigate moss and stones, and to search again and again for the perfect walking stick.  I

By Sunday the weather had turned back to November on us.  But we made the best of it by painting several basement walls in fresh, bright blue and yellow "oops" paint, and rearranging our dining and living room configurations.  Why not undertake several major projects in one day?  We're currently getting used to the new rooms (not sure if I love it but I DO love the cleaned and organized sideboard we got out of the deal), slowly carrying on with the basement project, and marveling at just how incredibly fast a month can go.  Holidays are coming soon, winter prowling around the corner ...
but I will hold on to fall for just a little longer, I think.

Fall leaves

Yesterday graced us with a perfect fall day, chilly and breezy and crisp.  The leaves are tumbling down now with a vengeance.  So what else to do but rake?

 

 It's easy to forget what fun it is to jump into a pile of leaves.   It was a perfect way to spend the afternoon.