Unprepared and Nostalgic

My daughters are dressed in their Holiday finery, and we are about to leave for the annual St. Jerome Christmas Concert.  

This has been a strange Advent.  More than ever before, it has snuck up on us, and we are unprepared in this season of preparing.  We don't even have our Christmas tree yet.

As the days whiz by, and I wake up each day farther behind than the day before, and I try like hell to hold on to the things that matter and let go of the things that don't, I find myself literally catching my breath.  I find myself confused by how fast time goes by.

For example, four years doesn't seem like a lifetime ago, but four years go, I wrote a reflection upon coming home from the 2009 Christmas Concert.  Reading it now, I almost feel like I'm reading about some other family instead of mine.  So much has happened since then.

One thing remains the same though: I am still finding, daily and in the midst of chaos and confusion, the things that make me call this a happy family.  To remind me of this important fact, and to indulge in a little nostalgia, here is that reflection once more:

* * *

Is my kid the only kindergartner with a big smudge of green ink on her face? 

Is my 2nd grader the only one with a huge clump of hair hanging down in her face? It appears that all those other girls are perfectly coiffed. 

Why does my 4th grader look like he is being choked by his tie, which is pulling strangely up and to the left? 

Is my 5th grader really that bored by the proceedings, or is his arm injured in a such a way that he physically cannot hold his sparkly star any higher than his elbow, rendering it at least 6 inches lower than the stars of all of his classmates? 

Are we the only parents who yelled at their kids in the 15 minutes prior to the festivities? 

Are we the only family to arrive at this Celebration of the Season with more than 50% of us grumpy? 

Is my three-year old really going to throw herself around like a rag doll and shriek like the monkey she wishes she were for the entire program, causing lots of people to toss sympathetic smiles and delighted giggles my way, people who don't have to attempt to keep her from launching off one of the pews, falling off of a kneeler, or crashing into the banister, and can therefore think she is just adorable? Am I the only one who thinks she is a pain in the ass?

You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?* 

* * * 

Am I really that neurotic of a mother to notice all of these imperfections? Don't answer that one. 

* * * 

Can there be anything more touching than seeing an emerging young man in his Christmas finery, walking with dignity down the street, hands in pocket, keeping distance from the younger ones, establishing his fledgling maturity? 

Can anything be cuter than a cadre of kindergartners singing and signing "Mary had a baby, oh Lord; Mary had a baby, oh my Lord; Mary had a baby, oh Lord; the people keep a-comin' and the train done gone!" 

Can she look any more heartbreakingly lovely in her brand new glasses, my little Miss 20-20? 

Is anything more important than trying, however imperfectly, to show up for your kids, and battle the stress, and rage against the commercial machine, and offer them the gift of Christmas, the gift of Christ, the gift of loving each other, however imperfectly, so that at the end of the evening, when one of them comes downstairs in tears, unable to describe the sadness, just overwhelmed and confused by the intensity of emotion he is feeling, you can set aside your own exhaustion and your own irritation at the stresses and curveballs that came your way today, and you can hold him and tell him that you know how he feels and that you've felt that way too, and it's because he has such a big, good heart that he feels that way and because the excitement of the holiday season can be just plain overwhelming? Because if you can do that, and then offer him his first taste of egg nog, you'll be able to send him to bed peacefully, and he will thank you and tell you he loves you, and in an instant, you will call this a happy family. 

* * * 

*with gratitude to George Bailey of Bedford Falls, NY

Dorothy Saves Christmas

I readily admit that the Christmas season kicks my butt.

I get overwhelmed by the pressure of it all, saddened by the consumerism, frustrated by the greed, and worried about spending the money.

Tis' the Season to completely freak out.

But this year, I felt myself compelled to seek out an old friend, a book, actually, by a personal hero of mine, Dorothy Day. The book is The Long Loneliness, and I picked it up this morning and started re-reading it.

"We have all known the long loneliness and we have learned that the only solution is love and that love comes with community." --Dorothy Day

If I stay with these pages, I think I'll make it to the Epiphany in fine form. Thank you Dorothy.

* * *

7 Quick Takes: The Christmas List Edition

Seven quick Christmas wishes for my family.

~1~

For Little T:  My wish for you this Christmas is that you learn to think first and scream second.   Because that thing you do in the car, when you object to something I'm saying, or something someone else is saying, that blood-curdling shriek?  I think it endangers us on the road and I would like it to stop.  Lest you think this is a selfish wish, I have the best interest of your vocal cords in mind here, sweetheart.  You could probably do permanent damage to them if you keep up that obnoxious behavior.

And I also wish for you that you charge into 2012 with as much joy and verve as you are closing 2011 with.  And maybe a movable stuffed animal puppy.

~2~

For Lady E: My wish for you this Christmas is that the adults around you find ways to respond to your bright, inquisitive, lightening-quick mind.  May that brain be lit on fire and may that fire grow and grow throughout your life.  May you remember us little people when you are famous for some fantastic contribution to the life and culture of humanity.

And I also hope that your siblings put several "TEASING FREE DAY" coupons in your stocking.  They are ruthless, aren't they?

~3~

For La-La-Loopsie: I wish you so very much, my first born daughter: May you be showered with art supplies and soccer gear, and may you be deprived of mosquito bites, paper cuts, twisted ankles, broken bones, and bonked heads.  We've had enough of those, yes?

And my other wish for you is also a wish for me: that you and I enter your tween years with the best possible mother-daughter relationship.  May we talk and talk.  May your inevitable disgust with me be delayed as long as possible.  May the peace and promise of Christmas become the peace and promise of us, together.

~4~

For my 2nd born, Yeller-At-The-Wind: May you live in the land of art supplies and legos all the days of your life.  And may there be Fire-Bellied Toads there, too.   And a life-time subscription to National Geographic Kids.  Sorry, I do not wish for an endless supply of nun-chucks and wii remotes.

But I do hope that for Christmas you receive the gifts of peace and confidence.  Fortitude.  Kindness.  Thinking first, yelling second.  (We could use a family-pack of that one around here.)  May your amazing sense of humor continue to bring all of us laughter and joy.  And perhaps I should also wish for a slight tempering of that sarcastic wit: trust me when I say it will get you into trouble in your life.  This Christmas, let's hope Santa sticks a small box of mellowing agent in your stocking.  And for you, dear son, may all your wishes come true.

~5~

And first born, O Great Experiment:  My Christmas list for you, much like your own, is endless.  Like I do for your brother, I first and foremost wish you peace and confidence.  Confidence and peace.  Peace and confidence.  An infinite mantra of confidence and peace.

And so much more.  I wish you parents that learn how to give you that confidence, parents who figure out how to set boundaries with more love than frustration, how to be detached so that you can grow up without us getting in your way but with as much help as we can provide.

I wish for you to be brave and strong.  I wish for you to break your goal scoring record in a single season.  I wish for you to play guitar until your fingers bleed.  I wish for you to rest in the knowledge that you are loved beyond your comprehension and that your presence in the world fills me with gratitude.  You are a light in this strange and complicated world.  May you learn to walk by your own light, and not the lights of the strange and complicated world.

~6~

For my dear spouse: As one half of the sacramental We, I wish the same things for both of us: Sleep.  Exercise.  Good wine.  Great beer.  A quiet morning or two.  

And what we need more than anything: Grace.  To see our life with right eyes, to respond to broken dishes, spilled cider, car troubles, children's fights, miscommunications, muddy bathrooms, limited options, 1940's kitchens, and lost soccer balls with grace.  To wake up with the confidence we need to give to our children.  To treat them with the patience we want them to show each other.  To enjoy them.  Every day.

~7~

And for myself.  See items 1-6 above.  I seem to have a lot to wish for this Christmas.  And none of it can be found at Target.

* * *

Please visit Conversion Diary for more Quick Takes!  Merry Christmas everyone!

* * *


  

Proof

Two things unequivocally confirm for me that all will be well this Christmas.

First, my husband put a lock on our bathroom door.

And second, my neighbor brought me a gift awhile back that has been hiding in my cupboard for just such an occasion as Christmas Eve, the day before I host 18 people on a rainy day in my small house:

Peace on Earth.

Family Time

We put up our Christmas tree last night. Simultaneously, we were finishing up a bit of painting in our dining room, installing some shelving on a dining room wall, and re-hanging doors on my kitchen cupboards.

I think it's safe to say we were attempting to do a few too many things all at once. That's how we roll.

So that could be the reason. The reason our Christmas Tree Decorating Family Time was a bit wonky. Family time around here is always a layered, complicated affair. We've got the children happily diving into ornament boxes, emerging with old favorites and happy memories. We've got the dizzying range of Christmas music filling the house, from the Messiah to Bob Dylan. We've got kids coming up with lovely ways to decorate their own rooms with left over tree branches and lights. We've got children dancing around the tree with sheer, unadulterated glee.

We've also got the bickering, the hurt feelings, the jockeying for prominent position for favored ornaments. We've got: "Her ornament is so ugly -- if we put it in front of the window, people will be able to see it! Can't we hide it?" We've got tears of disappointment when it turns out to be too late to start watching It's a Wonderful Life. We've got grumpy parents and ungrateful offspring.

It's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas.

And I think that's the point: to shed any notion of what perfect family time is supposed to look like and take each other where we are. The oldest and the 4th born? They feel animosity towards each other for the other 11 months of the year, so they aren't going to miraculously be good to each other just because it's Advent. The youngest? She has no design sense. Her contributions to the tree are sort of an anti-Martha anthem. The middle one? The one over there weeping in the corner? Maybe she's over tired, or her head hurts, or she's pissed that there's no hot chocolate. And the one who can't quite believe that even though we brought a tree home tonight, I still made him do his evening chore of washing the dinner dishes, well, I have to believe he will get over it.

In the end, a tree imperfectly purchased, lugged home, put up, lit and decorated is still a Christmas tree. The messy house still smells like pine needles. The ornaments still invite us to reminisce about Christmases past. In the end, before they trundle off to bed, some grumpy, some not, they still got to stand in front of the house oo-ing and ah-ing over the pretty white lights.

Family time, like my house, is messy. As are love, Christmas, children, marriage and life. In other words, everything good.

* * *

7 Quick Takes: Volume 22

Friday, Friday...so good to me,

Friday, Friday...will you be all I hope you can be?

Welcome to 7 Quick Takes at And I'll Raise You 5. Please visit our lovely host at Conversion Diary for the original 7 Quick Takes. Take a moment to congratulate her on expecting Baby #5! And check out the links to other Quick Takers playing along this week.

~ 1 ~

Today's recommended reading: The Epic of Gilgamesh. One of the oldest stories in the world, Gilgamesh tells the story of a cruel king and the friendship that teaches him to be kind. Rick used to teach this story in his English classes, and it has always been a favorite of his. The kids and I are listening to The Story of the World these days, and this week we heard a retelling of this ancient story that comes to us from 3000 (ish) BC Mesopotamia.

Before Gilgamesh meets Enkidu, he is a cruel and tyrannical king, enslaving his people and taking anything he wants for himself. Everyone fears him. Enkidu is the first to stand up to him by fighting him ferociously when Gilgamesh attempts to steal a bride right from her wedding banquet. They fight almost to the death, but just before they annihilate each other, Gilgamesh realizes that he has met his match. He recognizes that this half man/half animal has saved him from his own viciousness and decides they should be friends. Power and weakness, justice and cruelty, life and death: Gilgamesh has it all. Go forth and read.

~ 2 ~

Today's evidence that I am a bad mother: On this cold, dreary, wet morning, I made everyone a piping hot oatmeal breakfast, generously mixed with applesauce and amply smothered with cinnamon sugar. It's like eating warm apple pie in a bowl, and it was received with animosity.

~ 3 ~

Hmmm, what to do for homeschooling today...that's right, I have no plan. I do believe Netflix's "Watch Instantly" feature was created just for me! Today's educative activity will be to watch George C. Scott in A Christmas Carol. Thank you, Netflix! (Note: I am not paid to promote Netflix.)

~ 4 ~

Today's real evidence that I am a bad mother: I'm trying to force my 4 year old to watch TV instead of saying yes to her repeated requests that I read to her. Too much to do!

Think I'll regret this in 10 years when I get a call from the police department, telling me that my distraught 14 year old girl has just set off a bomb in her school library, screaming about how her mommy won't read any books to her and all books suck and her mommy sucks and WORDS ARE EVIL?

~ 5 ~

I am being defeated by the paper piles in my home. Any suggestions for getting the upper hand in this area will be greatly appreciated. Probably ultimately ignored, but appreciated in the short term at least.

~ 6 ~

Today's confession: Just like Jen at Conversion Diary, I have not purchased one, single, solitary Christmas gift yet. Nothing. Nada. Nilch. The next two weeks are going to be a bumpy ride.

~ 7 ~

Instead of getting out there and shopping, I've been doing a whole lot of Advent-ish waiting* and getting ready. We are using Christmas dinner as our excuse to fix things up around here, painting some rooms, conquering paper piles, and re-purposing our mish-mash of shelves in more efficient and aesthetically pleasing ways. The house doesn't look incredibly Christmas-y yet, but in our own way, we are celebrating Advent by preparing our home for Christmas guests, the ones we will feed and the One who will feed us. And I'm thinking about how to be a sign of hope in the world. Because that's what this season is truly about, HOPE.

"Advent is the spiritual season of hope par excellence, and in this season the whole Church is called to be hope, for itself and for the world. The whole spiritual organism of the mystical body assumes, as it were, the 'color' of hope."

~ Pope Benedict XVI, in his homily at the celebration of first vespers in St. Peter's Basilica, on Saturday, November 28, 2008

So you're not Christian or Catholic? No matter! Perhaps you can still agree that the world could use "hope par excellence" today. For us, we are trying to infuse our home with the color of hope, and perhaps we can take that color out into the world and fling it around a little bit. I've never seen hope on a retail shop shelf, so regardless of the shopping I have not done, I'm happy with how we are getting ready for Christmas this year.

*thank you, KP, for this phrase, which I stole from your FB status. :)

* * *

In Which I Start to Think I May Be Worrying About the Wrong Things

My kids have those chocolate Advent calendars from Trader Joe's, thanks to my generous friend Laura. We also have a cloth one, where we add one item per day to the manger scene, the last one, of course, being Jesus. This one is sweet and fun. But the chocolate ones stress me out.

First of all, there are FIVE of them. They take up too much space in my already too small house.

Second, my kids go rabid at the mere mention of chocolate. That's a lot of froth on a daily basis.

And third, the kids trash them with overzealous window ripping.

Last year, instead of having nice Advent calendars sitting neatly on the kitchen shelf, we had beaten up and bent cardboard shells, with the little cardboard windows ripped out and strewn all over the house. The kids were so rough with them that the chocolates ended up popping out of their holes and sliding around inside the cardboard, inducing panic and indignation in the opener. It was not a peaceful, pleasant part of the holiday season.

So this year, every time the kids go for their chocolates, I can be heard shouting things like: "BE GENTLE WITH THOSE! DON'T LEAVE THE CARDBOARD WINDOWS ALL OVER THE FLOOR! DON'T SHAKE THEM! KEEP THEM NICE!"

I told them I might stop saying that by December 15th, if they're lucky.

But really, what the heck is my problem? Why do I care if they destroy their candy calendars? I'll get them to clean up the little cardboard windows, but why am I obsessing about all the rest of it?

There are so many more worthy ways to spend my time during this season. I could use that energy wondering if I'll get Christmas cards out this year, or trying to glue back together all the broken tree ornaments, or figuring out where to stow all of the books and toys and crap we have piling up around here and that we want to get rid of or hide to make room for the guests we are hosting for Christmas dinner. I could be getting ready to pretend we have a pleasant, comfortable, organized, efficient home and instead, I'm wasting time trying to keep cardboard calendars in tip top shape. Ridiculous.

So henceforth, the Advent calendars are on their own. I'll be turning my attention to some other neurosis of mine.

* * *

Creative Christmas Carols

We've been singing lots of Christmas songs around here. My kids sometimes hear the words a little creatively. OR...

I've got a little capitalist on my hands:

"Go, sell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere; Go, sell it on the mountain: Jesus Christ is born."

And apparently, we've got a little work to do regarding the Reason for the Season:

"Glory to the new born thing!"

Can't wait to hear what they do with Silent Night.

* * *

Reflections on a Christmas Program

Is my kid the only kindergartner with a big smudge of green ink on her face?

Is my 2nd grader the only one with a huge clump of hair hanging down in her face? It appears that all those other girls are perfectly coiffed.

Why does my 4th grader look like he is being choked by his tie, which is pulling strangely up and to the left?

Is my 5th grader really that bored by the proceedings, or is his arm injured in a such a way that he physically cannot hold his sparkly star any higher than his elbow, rendering it at least 6 inches lower than the stars of all of his classmates?

Are we the only parents who yelled at their kids in the 15 minutes prior to the festivities?

Are we the only family to arrive at this Celebration of the Season with more than 50% of us grumpy?

Is my three-year old really going to throw herself around like a rag doll and shriek like the monkey she wishes she were for the entire program, causing lots of people to toss sympathetic smiles and delighted giggles my way, people who don't have to attempt to keep her from launching off one of the pews, falling off of a kneeler, or crashing into the banister, and can therefore think she is just adorable? Am I the only one who thinks she is a pain in the ass?

You call this a happy family? Why do we have to have all these kids?*

* * *

Am I really that neurotic of a mother to notice all of these imperfections? Don't answer that one.

* * *

Can there be anything more touching than seeing an emerging young man in his Christmas finery, walking with dignity down the street, hands in pocket, keeping distance from the younger ones, establishing his fledgling maturity?

Can anything be cuter than a cadre of kindergartners singing and signing "Mary had a baby, oh Lord; Mary had a baby, oh my Lord; Mary had a baby, oh Lord; the people keep a-comin' and the train done gone!"

Can she look any more heartbreakingly lovely in her brand new glasses, my little Miss 20-20?

Is anything more important than trying, however imperfectly, to show up for your kids, and battle the stress, and rage against the commercial machine, and offer them the gift of Christmas, the gift of Christ, the gift of loving each other, however imperfectly, so that at the end of the evening, when one of them comes downstairs in tears, unable to describe the sadness, just overwhelmed and confused by the intensity of emotion he is feeling, you can set aside your own exhaustion and your own irritation at the stresses and curveballs that came your way today, and you can hold him and tell him that you know how he feels and that you've felt that way too, and it's because he has such a big, good heart that he feels that way and because the excitement of the holiday season can be just plain overwhelming? Because if you can do that, and then offer him his first taste of egg nog, you'll be able to send him to bed peacefully, and he will thank you and tell you he loves you, and in an instant, you will call this a happy family.

* * *
*with gratitude to George Bailey of Bedford Falls, NY

"Just Give Me A Big Push!" and other things I am trying to ignore

Rainy afternoons are...interesting. The kids a gettin' a little stir crazy around here, and with soccer practice canceled, and screen time maxed out, and not much homework to do in these waning days before vacation, I'm hearing the words "I'm bored" a little more than I care to.

Not tonight though! They've discovered a new activity: they are sledding down the stairway. I am trying my level best to ignore the things I am hearing, such as "Cenzo, I just need you to give me one really big push!" and "Hey, are you laughing or crying?" and "We need more padding!" and "If we could just get this to be more slippery!"

There is total chaos in my stairwell. They've got the Brian Setzer band blasting from the boys' room and they are taking turns seeing who can catapault themselves down the stairs the fastest.

If they can manage to leave me out of it, they might get away with it for another 20 minutes.

One thing for sure: they better be damn glad their dad is not home, because there's no way in hell he'd be going for this activity. I, on the other hand, am worn down and weakened by the call of the internet: if they're staying away from me, and letting me blog, check email, facebook, and obsessively check my stats, then I pronounce it good.

All I can say is if I have to break away from this computer to take someone to the hospital, mama will NOT be happy. And if mama's not happy, ain't NOBODY gonna be happy. They better say a prayer as they careen down the stairs.

* * *

It's the Most Discombobulating Time of the Year

Things that seem impossible today: getting my daughter dressed...brushing my hair...finding socks...being peaceful...organizing my desk...finishing one damn cup of coffee...interacting with others without channeling my inner bitch...putting the laundry away...locating the mute button on my three year old...and preparing for Christmas.

Questions I am pondering today:

Is a muzzle an appropriate Christmas gift for a toddler? How about a straightjacket?

Can Santa bring me a martini? Can he come NOW?

Do I really need to get new tires and brakes right now, in December of all times of the year? If so, do you think the kids will be happy to find some Michelins and brake pads wrapped up under the tree on Christmas morn?

Where are my keys, my blue tooth, my cell phone, my nerves, and my tylenol?

If I abscond with the box of Trader Joe's Candy Cane Joe-Joe's, which will the children miss more: their mother or the cookies?

In the absence of matching socks, can I dress her in mis-matched socks, and in the absence of those, how about dirty socks, and in the absence of those, can I leave her here whilst I run errands in the freezing cold?

If I start driving right now, how far will I get by the Witching Hour?

* * *

For My Father

Tonight, we are engaging in the holiday family tradition of decorating our Christmas tree. This is such a nostalgic activity...it reminds me of when I was a kid, decorating the family tree surrounded by my mom, dad, sister and brother.

And tonight, dad, I just want you to know, I am not using hooks.

Lovingly,

your daughter

* * *

Christmas Lists...Morons...and Pee

Three vignettes from my day:

"Dear Santa, I want new siblings for Christmas. Ones that will not be mean to me. Love, Elizabeth."

I asked her what we will do with the old ones, and she replied, "We'll just have a whole bunch more kids!"

* * *

"Dear Dad, I'm sorry I was such a moron this morning. I love you.
Love, {name withheld to protect the guilty}"

* * *

As for the pee: all you parents of boys, let's talk about taking aim, shall we? Who among us has a boy-child that hits the target? I confront so much bodily fluid on a daily basis that I often feel like I'm in training for some high-level hazardous waste assignment. Between the daytime carelessness and the nighttime groggy-ness, my bathroom (of which I have ONE for a family of 7) tends to be a sea of pee. I go through many, many bottles of Simple Green in my Epic Pee Battles, and there is no end in sight.

We get our boys up at night to go to the bathroom. Let me just say that standing in the hallway in the dark (because standing in the bathroom doesn't give them enough privacy), trying to get a kid to wake up enough to relieve himself, and saying the nightly "please let him hit the water" prayer is taking its toll on me. The utter despair I feel upon hearing the pee hit the tile pretty much encapsulates my worst fears about being an ineffectual parent. Because once that stream starts, there's not a damn thing I can do to control its trajectory.

I had a nice chat with a friend today -- a true soldier, she is, raising FOUR BOYS between the ages of 12 and 5. We talked about pee. That's what we moms are reduced to, you know: talking about, and being interested in, strategies for handling bodily waste. (Actually, we talked about all kinds of strange and interesting things about family life, pee being just one of the scintillating topics...) She had a gem of a solution for boys with wayward aim: Upon entering a bathroom that young boys had used, upon observing that not only had they peed, but that apparently raising the toilet seat was too much effort, upon seeing the seat reserved for the peeing female doused in urine, she decreed: "If I see this again, you will sit on it so that you experience what I have to experience when you don't lift the seat."

Problem solved.

But here's the thing that gets me: I don't know of a single family with little boys that doesn't have unseemly amounts of urine on their bathroom floor, can't think of any boy-parents who don't spend inordinate amounts of time cleaning pee off of floors, tiles and toilets. And I've done a super scientific poll of a couple of my friends with boys and we all experience the same disgusting thing: boys pee many places, but rarely in the pot.

Which leads me to one of the great lessons of parenting. We absolutely HAVE TO talk to other parents so that we know that our own kids are not freakish mutants with no hope of ever becoming civilized. If we don't talk to our friends who have kids, we'll never know that most boys pee on the floor, most girls at some point shake their booties in peculiar ways, and most kids act like they've been offended beyond measure when asked to clean up.

So I have come to believe that the most essential bit of parenting advice is this: Do not parent in isolation. Talk to other parents and tell your stories. You'll feel so much better because you are bound to discover that your kid is not an anomaly and that what you are experiencing is being repeated behind the closed doors of most families in America, regardless of how together they might look when they are out in public.

So trust your instincts, do what you believe is right, and talk to other parents. That will get you through.

All of that from a conversation about pee!

* * *

Oh, I'm Sorry But...

Christmas and blogging do not mix.

OMG! I cannot believe the madness that is my life right now! There's biscotti to make, Christmas programs to attend, Christmas pageants to rehearse (two separate events, mind you), angel dresses to come up with, Santa sale money to scrape together so my kids can buy cheap goods for everyone again this year, wreaths to make, rooms to clean, meals to plan, clutter to clear (we are hosting this year), and lots of presents to buy.

It's not that we go hog wild with gifts, but come on, with five kids, well, do the math. We are about half way through the shopping thing...with ideas and plans for most of the second half. Of course, it always turns wild at the last minute, but I guess I'll just have to figure out a way to ride through it with a smile on my face.

I'm thinking wine.

My oldest, usually an absolute BEAST to his siblings, came up with a beautiful idea tonight. After a particularly ugly ride home from school, and lots of yelling from mama, I had just about decided that my children are downright evil to each other, brutes, demons, just plain mean people.

Sam came to me:

"Mom, you know how everyone isn't being nice to each other? Well we should make a cradle for Jesus, and then we all pick names in secret for each other, and each time you do something nice for the person you picked, you put a piece of straw in the cradle for Jesus, and the more nice stuff we do, the better bed we will make for Jesus. But you don't tell anyone whose name you have, you just do nice things in secret and then add straw to the bed."

Ya coulda knocked me over with one of those pieces of straw.

So anyway, that's what we're doing tonight!

This comes right on the heels of me driving home amidst the meanness and nastiness and thinking for the umpteenth time How do we make this season about Christ and not about getting STUFF? How do we change this into something beautiful, something with a gravitas beyond consumption and consumerism? How, HOW HOW?

Samuel taught me how. So as soon as they finish watching The Polar Express, we'll be making that cradle.

There is hope!

You know you have a big family when...

...one of your kids asks for ear plugs for Christmas.

I'm Not Buying It

It's the Holiday season. One way I know this is that people are already wishing me "Happy Holidays!" Well, not people so much as companies. While I haven't started hearing this from individual folks, I have heard it from Honda of San Francisco, Lucky's Supermarket, and Rubio's.

I'm not buying it. I am not purchasing a Honda this year or patronizing Lucky's for the majority of my Holiday food shopping, nor am I believing that these companies are truly wishing me well. I think they just want my money.

And speaking of the Holidays: I know the secular trend over the past several years has been to refrain from saying Merry Christmas, to use the more generic Happy Holidays instead. Do the politically correct-os out there realize that they are actually saying "Happy Holy Days?" So while Happy Holidays may in fact be broad enough to include all of the religiously based celebrations at this time of year, it still conveys that these days are, in fact, holy.

Maybe these observations are too cynical. I am cynical about the Holidays precisely because they are so important to me. The coming days of Advent and Christmas are truly Holy for me and for my family, and yet, each year, I struggle mightily with the prevailing consumer culture that assaults us at every turn and transforms such a Holy time into a virtual pressure cooker for imperfect families. In other words, for all families.

So about this time each year, I start trying to think of ways that I can wage my own personal battle against the forces of popular culture that would otherwise ruin Christmas for me. I am not always successful in this effort. I take it as a sign of hope that I keep trying! Here's hoping that my family's Christmas this year can be peaceful and joyful, and that we can do this in spite of the way Christmas is happening all around us.