Twas The Week Before Christmas

'Twas the week before Christmas when all through the town,

Viruses were threatening to take everyone down. 

The moms had been busy with weeks of preparation, 

Stressing and hoping for the perfect celebration. 

The children were sneezing and dripping with goo, 

Touching doorknobs and handrails and holding hands too. 

Mama in her wisdom declared a new rule: 

No one may bring any germs home from school!

Mom worried, "The family fete will soon be here

Infectious pathogens are what I now fear."

A possible solution-   keep everything clean

Time to institute a mini- quarantine.

When sneezes were heard, "Into your elbow", she cried!

When noses were wiped, "Wash your hands", she would chide!

There was NO sharing of food or drinks with anyone.

Not EVEN mother with daughter or father with son.

"If you're going to get sick", she declared, "quickly do!"

"There's still enough time for the doctor to see you!"

A throat glowing red like famous Rudolf's nose?

A course of antibiotics can quickly fix those.

A stomach that's churning and heaving about?

Hold the bucket very close until it's all out.

With so much to do, Mom was wringing her mittens

If someone got sick she would surely have kittens!

Crossing her fingers, crossing her toes,

Feeling their foreheads, blowing her nose.

Mom was so worried about the celebration

(But  it wouldn't be Christmas without  desperation.)

Mom watched and hoped as the days passed

While everyone (with Lysol spray) she gassed. 

With determination and force of will

She somehow kept all from falling ill. 

On Christmas Eve dawn all arose.

Pale of cheeks and red of nose. 

BUT! No fever to spread to our family so dear!

Christmas is coming- it's almost here!

Whew! So...

The stockings were hung by the chimney with cheer

And our elf's time to depart was soon drawing near. 

Just a few more hours to strive for perfection!

Then all can nosedive into infection!

I heard her whisper as under the covers she nestled 

"Thank goodness I have a whole year to rest-le!"

Merry Christmas to All!


P.S.  One of our unwanted traditions is of holiday illness(es).  (If you have children, I'm sure it's a tradition at your house too!)  Every year, we are biting our nails wondering, "Will our house be safe to host our family?!?"  This year, I was more organized than in past years.  (When I was counting on using every school day to prepare and a child home sick would throw me into a panic!)  But that backfired!  In a new twist, I was the sick one this year!  But, with panic comes adrenaline- a mom's best friend. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas.  (And get some well deserved rest!)

P.P.S.  Here is a picture of a Christmas candy dish at our house- filled with Luden's cough drops!

Waxing Tent?

     I haven't watched Survivor since the first season or two.  But whenever I see the commercials I always wonder:  Do they have a behind the scenes grooming tent? Did you ever wonder that?  
     It seems the girls always wear tiny bikinis as every day clothing.  Making shelters, catching food and competing in eliminations. In tiny bikinis.  With stretching and bending.   I don't see any armpit beards.  Or furry legs.  How do they do that?  We're supposed to believe that these people are "stranded".  But you know the camera people all have nicer places to sleep.  I believe that there is also a waxing tent.  How else could these women stay so smooth?
     Okay, yes, they could have brought razors with them.  But they are always in beach locales.  Have you ever going swimming in the ocean right after shaving?  It's like scratching yourself up and jumping in rubbing alcohol.  How would you shave in the ocean?  Gives me the shivers just thinking about it.
     I imagine there are clauses in the contract guaranteed to make good and pretty TV...

Good TV clause:  You will eat whatever disgusting thing we provide.  
Pretty TV clause:  Women will visit the grooming tent once a week for a full wax, buff and shine. 
Good TV:  You will fight with everyone.  
Pretty TV:  Vote off the older and larger people first.  
Good TV:  Cry and accuse.  
Pretty TV:  One piece bathing suits must be worn not more that 5% of your total time on the island.  
Good TV:  No one will laugh when Jeff P. gets all serious when snuffing a torch.  
Pretty TV: Women will jump up and down a lot during their elimination challenges. Even if the challenges do not involve jumping.  (Pretend you are cold.)

     

Old/Odd Christmas Memories

            In our house, we celebrate Christmas.  (Both the Santa part and the Jesus part.)  It is our favorite time of the year.  For the kids, there is an element of predictability in our celebrating that’s comforting as well as the promise of parties, sweets and, best of all, presents.  For us, there are the warm fuzzy memories of past Christmases with loved ones, recreating aspects of our own youth and creating new traditions of our own.

As with any religious holiday, we have certain things that we do the same way every year.  Sometimes we follow a ritual scripted by our religious beliefs.  For example, Jesus isn’t part of our nativity scene until Christmas morning.  He sleeps in my grandmother’s teacup until he’s born.  (One year, the Wise men started out across the room and journeyed slowly to the scene.  That was my daughter’s idea and too much work for me!)  We also keep our tree up until “Little Christmas”- January 6^th- the day the Wise Men finally reached Jesus.  We read the Christmas story and try to remember that that is why we give and get presents- to celebrate Jesus’ birthday.

Beyond the religious observance, there are certain moments that are Christmas to me.  Memories spring up that I then HAVE to recount to my kids.  In fact, the telling becomes it’s own tradition.  As we look for our tree, I remember trudging through the little Christmas tree business that sprang up on an empty lot near our house.  It was always so exciting to go but then frustrating because my mom wanted to find the perfect tree.  I just wanted to get it home and up.  I loved listening to Christmas records and being together while we unwrapped and remembered each ornaments “story”.  (I still love this part.) This meant Christmas really was coming and felt like our own party. 

It seemed to take forever for my mother to get the perfect tree.  An eternity of trudging up and down aisles and getting covered with sap as we asked, “How about this one?” To be fair to my mother, the entire thing could’ve only taken minutes.  Or maybe it seemed so long because the experience was a carbon copy from year to year and they all added up to one long memory?  I’m not picky on our tree hunt and think that every tree is beautiful once our things are on it but I wonder how my kids would tell it?  Maybe later they will complain about our crooked misshapen trees?

When we get the tree home and into the stand, there are always the adjustment arguments.  My husband lies under the tree while we shout “More to the left.  No, the other left!” That moment is like a time machine to me.  Suddenly I am back in my brown-paneled childhood living room watching my father lie under our tree:  My mother is trying to tell my father which way to adjust it and somehow it’s like they are speaking different languages.  Her instructions don’t match what he does and he always ends up pissed off and cursing!  

While she would hate me telling this and would never understand it, this is one of my favorite Christmas memories! There’s something just so funny about it.  It was so Un-Christmasy and yet so them.  The nostalgia makes me want to goad my husband until the expletives fly so I can feel all warm and fuzzy!  But I resist…

There is another memory that is not so very Christmasy though it starts out that way…  When you’re Italian, Christmas Eve is the big night.  A big fish dinner and boisterous relatives.   When I was little, our Italian wing of the family was smaller so our dinners were low key.  Just my Grandpa and aunt came over.  And I don’t know if there was fish.  There must’ve been but, as a child, I was extremely picky- I may have removed the fish from my mental tableau.  

When I was 10, my grandpa died.  The following Christmas going to the cemetery was added to the Christmas Eve schedule.  In my memory, my aunt would come over early in the day to bring my brother and me to the cemetery.  (Really, this could’ve been anytime in the Christmas season but I remember it as Christmas Eve.  Maybe that’s when my parents did their final prep? Any way…)  We would stop, buy two Christmas pine grave blankets and proceed to my grandparent’s section of the giant cemetery. 

After our visit there, we would go to another section where my grandmother’s family was interred.  While we stood over the grave, my aunt would tell us about how these relatives were never as nice to my aunt and her siblings as they were to the other side of the family.  She would remember aloud some of the spitefulness she remembered.  As a child, I felt righteous anger for her.  And I also felt a bit of, “Ha!  And look who visits you?  Are those rotten other children here? No!”  Making up my own narrative of wickedness to fill in the blanks.  Feeling sorry for my younger-imagined, poor, slighted branch of the family. 

I didn’t really think about that as being a tradition but I guess it did become stitched into my Christmases.  Years and years later, after my own mother died, I took my little daughter to the cemetery before Christmas to do the grave blanket thing.  And I decided to make the drive to my grandparent’s cemetery to visit them as well.  At the florist, I purchased a grave blanket and impulsively threw in a smaller decoration.  We visited my grandpa and I told my daughter wonderful stories about him.  When leaving, we drove around the cemetery a bit until I found something familiar looking.  After some searching on foot.  I found my great-relatives.  I gave them the smaller decoration (spitefully?) and then proceeded to tell my daughter how mean they were to my family!  I realized how funny the whole thing was and couldn’t wait to get home and call my aunt in Florida.  “You’d be proud! I visited them BUT made sure to tell of their meanness! And only left a tiny decoration!” It was crazy!

So if there is a lesson in this, I guess it would be that you never know which memories will stick.  We all try so hard to make the holidays perfect for our families.  We try to make new and special memories for them to treasure and always remember.  BUT, sometimes those aren’t the memories that stick!  I do have other wonderful memories of the holidays from when I was young.  One year we made popcorn strings for the birds.  One year I got to play Mary in a church nativity scene. But those memories are more shadowy.  The things that unintentionally happened every year?  Those are the ones that really stuck. 

So while we parents try to package up beautiful, childhood memories for our children to take on their life journey’s, be prepared for the hitchhikers.  Years from now, we’ll be remembering our beautiful version of Christmas and our children will swear it never happened.  They will only remember (once!) that the raccoons got into the cannolis.  (Who left the garage open?)   Or they’ll remember their dad and me sparring over Christmas Eve feast preparations.  Or the year someone little threw up.  But I guess that’s ok.  I treasure my weird memories and they will too…

Children As Exercise Motivation (TMI warning)

           

            Oh, there are lots of good reasons to exercise and I try to remember them as I am dragging myself out the door to go to the gym.  (And again as I am trying to pry my hand off of the car door handle so I can go inside.)  It’s good for me.  It will help keep me healthy.  And young.  And I am modeling a good lifestyle for my kids.  Really, there are lots of ways to use your kids as motivation...

            I am dreading the day when my kids look at a picture of me and say, “Look how young you were!”  (I mean they can do that now with pictures of me when I was 10.  But I’m dreading hearing it when the “me” in the picture is 40!  I’m scared of a time when 40 is young!!) I started going to the gym because I am trying to stay young and healthy and a full part of my kids lives.  Now and later.  I want to know my grandchildren.  (I am planning very far ahead!)

            It would be nice if going to the gym got me all toned too.  But, since I am lazy, I don’t push myself hard enough for that. [Sigh] I need a bigger motivation.  Like… giant guys with whips guarding the doors and not letting me leave.  It doesn’t mean I would exercise harder but I would be running around in circles and climbing the walls trying to escape.  I would be exercising inadvertently. 

            Really, the best motivation is my children.  But not in the ways you think.  I should bring my children to the gym to stand around me and shout out some of the things they’ve said to me over the years:

            “Your belly is so squishy!”  (Said happily so I guess it’s comfy.  Good, because they did it to me.)

            “Your arms are so wobbly!” (Said in a “Huh, look at that” kind of way.)

            “Look how far I can put my finger in your belly button.” (Said with awe and, to be fair to me, she was pushing pretty hard!)

            And, the best one- to laugh at (not to hear) which is why I am sharing it with you!  The one that I should write on a Post-It and stick to the treadmill and stare at for exercise inspiration happened when I was putting on tights.  If you are a female (or a female impersonator), you know that you have to do a bunch of side-to-side bending, tugging and smoothing to get them right.  As I was bending to my side, my youngest walked into my room and saw my back to her and started laughing.  When I asked “What?” She replied, “It looks like you have gills!” 

            I guess it could be my new mantra…  I could chant “gills, gills, gills” to myself while I am watching the clock at the gym.  It would be the opposite of the relaxing, yoga “Ohm”.  It could agitate me and give me more adrenaline….

The Gym and Food

     When I joined the gym, I was hoping to improve my health and maybe get a little exterior benefit.  I was hoping that the exercising would make me more disciplined about my food intake.  Leading me to shed a few pounds.  (It would be nice to lose all the "baby" weight before the baby completes her first decade on this planet...)  I could've sworn that I had read that exercise can tame your appetite.  Here's what I have noticed about my weight after going to the gym:  It didn't change a bit.  I might have even gained a pound or two!!

     Don't even try to give me any of that BS about muscle weighing more than fat.  I don't really work out that hard.  I know exactly why I have gained or not lost weight. Going to the gym makes me eat more.  There are several reasons for this:  circumstance, [lack of] willpower and gym undermining.
     Let's start with gym undermining.  Nowadays, gyms have TVs all over the place.  One on each cardio machine and a few on the walls.  And I love it!  I grew up in a TV house and love to watch TV.  I don't watch during the day because it feels vapid.  A mind drain.  It keeps me from puttering around doing what I need to be doing.  At the gym, it's okay to watch TV- it helps pass the time.  But, daytime TV sucks.  So, I only half watch the news on CC while I listen to music AND read a magazine.  (Can you say attention issues?)  And those three things can only hold my wandering mind for so long!  Eventually my roaming eyes find, and then freeze on, the large wall TV that loops ads for some town businesses.  Like the Italian grocery, the local bakery, the Mediterranean market, a pizza place, a frozen yogurt store.  All food!  In gorgeous, foodie pornographic poses.  Inside my head runs a Homer Simpson monologue;  Mmmm, cupcakes,  mmmmmm chicken parm, mmmmm chocolate.  Snap out of it!!  WTF??   But, as CM pointed out, "Why would the gym want you lose weight?  That's bad for business!" Stupid gym.  As I'm sweating along, they are priming me to fail as soon as I leave...
     Circumstance stikes the second blow after the gym has primed and tortured me.  As a mom, the gym fits into the errands I do while the kids are out of the house.  Tidy up, laundry, gym, grocery shopping, everything else.  Did you catch that?  The grocery store is AFTER the gym.  I can't go before the gym, the milk would go bad!  Maybe, if the gym hadn't been brainwashing me with food porn I wouldn't be so damn hungry when I got to the store.  But I am!  And no amount of nonexistent "endorphins" would be able to shut down Homer Simpson's voice.  Mmmm, donuts.  There's no way I can buy just what I actually came for- today I bought Italian ices AND ice cream sandwiches.  But I managed to tamp down my Ring Ding coveting.  Barely.  And it took all I had to not crack an ice cream sandwich in the lot as I packed the car...
     And then there's willpower. Or the lack of it... You would think that going to the gym would make me consider what goes into my pie hole.  And it does- for a second.  Then there is an intense inner struggle.  I always win.  (And lose.)  "Mmmm, ice cream sandwiches-  I'll have one before the kids get home.  No!  I won't.  I went to the gym.  I'm trying to be healthy so I should eat healthy.  But I'm soooo hungry from all the exercise, duh.  Plus, hello?  I went to the gym today.  Just think of all the calories I burned!  I ate way more yesterday and didn't exercise at all.  I deserve this.  It's owed to me, dammit!"
     So, I guess I'll have to convince myself that I joined the gym just for the health benefit.  Healthy bones and heart, blah, blah, blah.  That's the important thing. That and muscles weigh 50X more than fat, right?

Thankfully

           
      In light of the upcoming holiday, I decided to be just one more person listing things I am thankful for.  Bear with me here, I know you’ve heard and thought about what you are (and should be) thankful for.  We are ALL grateful for our Armed Forces, First Responders, Health, and Happiness and, of course, our children, our spouses and families.  We all have our own lists of the biggies.  But there are some random things that I am also thankful for!  They many not be as important as the biggies but they are important to my way of life and my outlook.  So in no particular order:

•      I am sooo thankful that none of my kids is allergic to dust.  Though I try, I am not a domestic goddess.  I am also thrilled that they don’t have any allergies to foods.  At least, none that I am aware of! (And, if they do, I am thankful that it’s mild because it will take years of someone breaking into hives after a specific food for me to figure it out…)
•       I am sooo grateful that my husband is not a picky eater!  Our meals are often  “just adequate” (and occasionally hodgepodge) yet he does not complain.  At least not to me!  Hmm, I guess the next should be…
•       If my husband complains about the food around here, he is kind enough to do it out of earshot and/or to people who will not tell me about the complaining.  And I am thankful for that!
•       While my scattered mind is often frustrating to me (and I am sure those around me), it keeps me endlessly entertained and I am thankful for it.  I enjoy my flights of fancy.  They were less than helpful in school but are fun now…
•       I am thankful for my childlike wonder.  I could sit and watch an ant for hours.  I am amazed with the beauty of flowers and snowstorms.  I don’t feel like many people can sit and just BE.  I am grateful that I can live in the moment and get lost in the details and beauty in the everyday world.  I know I am sometimes annoying to my family when I am pointing out the “wonders” around and they are less than impressed.  ("Hey guys, look!  Look at this!") I am thankful they occasionally pretend to be as awed as I am.  (Hopefully, they are sometimes amazed as well…)
•       I am thankful for old “things”.  Though we don’t have “fancy” antiques, we have a number of pieces that had a life before they got to us.  I love the idea that somewhere an elderly woman is wondering what happened to her childhood desk.  I wish I could tell her we have it and will lovingly pass it on some day.
•      I am thankful that I had parents who loved me.  They weren’t always the easiest and they certainly didn’t do everything “right” BUT I always knew that they loved me.  I don’t think you can really understand why your parents did what they did until you are one yourself.   I hope they know how good it all turned out and that they can see my kids.   The wonderful, weird potpourri of genetics, tradition and parenting makes them my favorite people in this world and my parents had a role in it… 
•      I am sooo thankful that I didn't know how hard it would be to be a parent.  If I really knew, I wouldn't have been brave enough to do it.  So, I am grateful that my ignorance let these smaller, crazy, exhausting people into my life!
•       I am grateful for extended families- it can all be messy sometimes but the reward is so great!  My parents may be gone but I have so many wonderful relatives and in-laws that I never feel parentless.   Just knowing they are there if needed is a wonderful feeling.
•       I am grateful for my in-laws.  (Yes, I said my in-laws.)  This can be a tricky relationship for many people but mine are wonderful.  We all have our quirks that could make each other crazy but, on the whole, it all works.   I am so glad my kids can have a great relationship with their grandparents.  I feel like I gained an extra set of parents (and grandparents and cousins and brothers and sisters)!
•       I am thankful that my kids are small enough to all be at home when I go to sleep.  I know the time is coming when they will all be out at night but it’s not here yet.  Thank goodness, I need the extra time to prepare for all that worrying…
•       I am thankful for the Internet in my pocket.  In the old days, I had to wait to go to the library to look things up.  And I always forgot what I wanted to know.  A while ago, I looked up chaos theory just because I wanted to.  And, once, I watched a professor’s video about how to estimate the amount of m &m’s in ajar by using the packing fraction.  I haven’t tried it at a contest but I feel smarter now that I know there is a packing ratio for m & m’s.  (Weird, I know.)
•       I am also thankful for friends (and family) in my pocket!  Thanks to Facebook, friends that I might have never have seen again are still in my life. And, no matter the physical distance, they can be a part of my everyday life.
•       I always tell my children that they are not only lucky to live where we live but also to live when we live.  I am so grateful to live in this when rather than 100 or 1000 years ago so.  It’s nice to have the possibility of reaching a ripe old age that is higher than 50! 

  
     I think I am starting to ramble so I am going to stop there.  But, I would be extra thankful if one of you happened to mention today that 43 is the new 23… Or if you could get someone to proof me for something... anything!

Sleeping in a Hat

            At this time… I mean in my real life it’s November 6^th but I probably won’t post this until next week so now it’s in the past to you.  Well, to me too now, I guess.  Very confusing!  Now I forgot what I was going to say…  Thank goodness I wrote the title up there!  Right! Last night, I slept in a hat. 

            My husband and I are forcibly camping in our own house.  Due to Hurricane Sandy and the resulting electricity problems, my house has been off line for 8 days now.  Every day, the temperature drops a degree or two.  Last night, the bedroom was 53 degrees. BUT I have a house so I am NOT complaining.  I am merely observing!  It’s chilly but, surprisingly, all right once I am in bed under the covers. 

            Last night, I decided to sleep in a hat for some extra toastiness and it definitely helped.  But, if you’re me, there are lots of random thoughts to think when you are waiting for the sheets to warm up AND trying to fall asleep in scary total darkness.  Like: a hat is not ideal for sleeping in.  Who knew?  Well, not me. And, since there was no way I was going to get out of bed into the cold air to change my head gear, I laid there thinking, or rather planning, my next chilly night.

            Every time I turned over, my hat wouldn’t turn with me.  The friction from the sheets would hold it in place.  So, basically, I rotated within the hat.  Eventually my hair was twisted up like a Carvel cone- leaving my neck bare and icy. And, like a toddler bundled up in a stroller, it kept slipping down over my eyes.  I don’t know why it bothered me- I wouldn’t be able to see anything even if my eyes were open.  But somehow it did…  And having my forehead and eye sockets warm drew attention to my freezing nose.  So I lay there plotting- hoodie or balaclava tomorrow?

            Eventually, I moved completely under the covers.  Which caused all new problems.  No, not problems.  Conditions.  Going completely under is suffocating.  But, the air out there is freezing.  It takes a while to get a good bubble of an air lock formed by the sheet.  One that lets a little frigid air seep in but warms it up before it gets to you.  It’s very complicated.  I actually lay there thinking about car engines and trying to think of the name of the part that keeps the gas-air mixture balanced for combustion.   I am crazy.  Then I was thinking, if I invented an airlock for sleeping under the covers, what would I name it?  (If you’re wondering, I didn’t come up with a good name…)

            It’s interesting how, when your usual life turns upside down, everything gets broken down to its simplest form.  At night, I typically lay awake thumbing through my current prevailing anxieties.  I worry, plan and list and then have stress dreams.  Last night, I just thought of the chill and how to beat it.  Then I slept great.  Life is funny…..

P.S. The next day presented me with a new stress- gas.  Last Wednesday, I spent almost 5 hours total in the hunt to fill one car.  Then the Nor'easter roared in just to top off the craziness. BUT, wonder of wonders, my power came back that night.  And stayed through the new storm- even as many more trees and poles came down all around.  It feels like a two week chunk of life was just erased.  Everything before seems so far removed and life is just starting to seem more normal.  This in a town who's only damage was hundreds of fallen trees.  For the South Shore... holy smokes.  I can't even imagine...  

And all you people who still have no electricity or heat, yes, you can start complaining...