Joyful Joyful - How I Miss Thee

"You're the one I want to be with, you're the reason that I came. And you'll find Me in the stillness as I'm whispering your name." ~Anon

The stockings seem much emptier,
The tree looks not as green.
The carols sound so out of tune,
And the traditions have just become routine.

I've relived all my memories
Of the twenty-fifth of December
To try and find whats missing now,
From the Christmases I remember.

Its not a certain flavor
Or a gift beneath the tree,
But more that special feeling
the season once brought to me.

After years of searching high and low,
through woods, on beaches, in shops, and pews,
I'm almost sure that what I'm missing
Is sharing Christmastime with you.

With you the season came alive,
A wonderland in any weather.
Its something I've lost bit by bit
Since we last were together.

Gifts and shopping hold no thrill,
I've no pride in well done decorations.
I still roll the cookies and pour the eggnog,
But I just don't feel much celebration.

What was the wellspring you possessed
That renewed your spirit from year to year?
I miss the peace, the joy, the laughter,
The successful missions spreading yuletide cheer.

Its still and cold this Christmas Eve,
The sky is dressed with its brilliant lights.
As I turn my face up to the stars,
I think of you, and send my love tonight.

And if you could still send me a gift
To open as tomorrow comes,
Please help me find that joy, that hope,
For this Christmas and for future ones.

Blue Christmas

“There are some upon this earth of yours,” returned the Spirit, “who lay claim to know us, and who do their deeds of passion, pride, ill-will, hatred, envy, bigotry, and selfishness in our name; who are as strange to us and all our kith and kin, as if they had never lived. Remember that, and charge their doings on themselves, not us.”

― Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

I still pick out a Christmas gift for my mother every year, even though I haven’t shared the holiday with her in 16 years. I don’t actually buy it or wrap it, but usually in my shopping travels I see something that she would have liked, or just simply experience something that I know she would enjoy. It makes me wonder about what her preferences and likes would have been in this technologically advanced age. I like to imagine her with a smartphone and a Kindle, tagging me in numerous Pinterest posts and commenting on my progress on Goodreads. Its all very much a fantasy, though.

To be honest, I think she would be disappointed with me this year. Try as I might, the events over the last few days, weeks, and months have weighed me down this season, and I just haven’t been able to muster up much Christmas spirit. The tree and the house lights were put up, the cards were sent, but the other customs and staples of the year; the baking, the nativity figurines, the thrill of giving, were glaringly absent. From the outside looking in, I’m sure it seemed like a happy Christmas, but I’m still lacking that renewal of spirit I associate with celebrating the anniversary of a certain child’s birth. I find myself just unable to find the joy in wrapping gifts when I think about those parents and families in Connecticut who won’t have the joy of watching their kids opening their presents Christmas morning. Or make cookies with my own sons and daughter when theirs will never be able to sneak one again, or just simply enjoy licking the spoons. To watch my six year old Monkey catching snowflakes on her tongue in a magical Christmas Eve snow without remembering 20 five and six year olds that will never experience another snowflake. I can’t savor snuggling into bed at night with my husband when neighbors in my town - in my state - have no beds and no homes to gather into. The disparity of so many people banding together to try and make it a wonderful holiday for some, and others setting out to unleash their evil on the civil servants who selflessly sacrifice to help and protect us make it impossible for me to see the hope and goodness in our country. Maybe even in our world. There is so much arguing and blame going on right now. Everyone wants a solution, but nobody wants to work together to really get to the right answer.

This isn’t the world I had in mind to bring my children into. A country that is more invested in their individual right to bear arms, than in seeking to heal the people as a whole through proper health and mental care is not where I want them to grow up. Legislators who are determined to undermine and cut the pay and benefits of educators - the people who have the job of shaping the people who will lead our future - are not the people I want in power over my kids’ learning opportunities. And thinking about those teachers that died, who did the same things that they award medals to soldiers for when in combat, it seems like the biggest insult that they are not supported more by the public, or by our own government. Finally, I can't get those poor parents out of my mind. How many holidays will they spend like me, seeing gift opportunities for someone they can no longer buy for?

The future just looks bleak and unpromising to me. If ever a child’s birth could deliver us from evil, I believe it would need to be now. Searching for that feeling of Christmas while donning a lead mantle of depression is an exhausting and bitter enterprise. And yet.... and yet, even as I go to bed this Christmas night with a heavy heart I keep digging inside myself. For as in the words of Anne Lamott, “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come.”

Surely the miracle of the season has planted a seed of hope inside me somewhere. Inside all of us. Somewhere dormant and ready to bloom in the light of the morning.

Fully Loaded

How tired God must be of guilt and loneliness, for that is all we ever bring to Him. ~Mignon McLaughlin

Its my own fault, and I will forever self-flagellate myself for breaking my own rules and bringing it into the house. I bought a package of Ghirardelli Peppermint Bark for myself to enjoy after Christmas. I don't enjoy candy canes, but the way they mix the peppermint with the sweet chocolate is a major weakness of mine. The bag is clearly marked "May contain traces of peanuts and tree nuts" but I was hoping if I hid it well enough, Scootch would never be the wiser. What I didn't count on was my ingenious Monkey finding the last square and insisting on eating it after lunch. And then being spontaneously into the spirit of giving that comes with the season and offering her brother a piece. I can now tell you what happens when Scootch puts something into his mouth that he's allergic to. He tells me his mouth feels funny, and then he throws up. This was days after I shared a picture from Allergic Living's message board about how sharing food with a "May contain" label is like pointing a gun at someone with an allergy and not knowing whether its loaded or not. Mother's guilt is a big ugly thing to have to share your space with, but that's just what I'm doing. Thank goodness his body knew better than I did, and kept him from fully ingesting the stuff.

Thankfully vomiting is as far as it went today, but I never even want that to happen again. Not on my watch. At least giving up the peppermint bark might help keep off all that after-Christmas weight every year.

Pains of Christmas

Christmas is my favorite holiday, and was my mother's favorite as well. When I was little, we would go in cahoots together and bombard people with Christmas cheer better than a modern day Flash Mob. So needless to say, Christmas music is another favorite of mine. The wonder and magic and general goodwill of the season is often so wonderfully expressed through music, and can bring me into the right frame of mind even when I'm listening to it in July. (Yes I really do listen to it in the off season. Don't judge.) Anyone who knows me at all, knows that getting me a Christmas CD isn't just a filler present, its actually a great present.

Unless its not.

I must confess, I love that there are radio stations that change format and bombard the general public with nothing but holiday tunes from Thanksgiving till December the 25th. My only pet peeve is that they all seem to only play the same 45 songs. With all the music out there to choose from (and believe me, I know how much there is. I own almost half of it) it annoys me that the most frequently abused tunes are the ones that have almost nothing to do with the meaning of Christmas. So, in the rapidly fading glow of the holiday, I present to you my personally chosen Top 5 Worst Christmas Songs.

1. It Doesn't Have to Be That Way - by Jim Croce.
We're starting out the list with one of the more frequent holiday offenses - the Christmas Booty Call. I know that the holidays are some of the most depressing times of the year - especially for single people. But really. Doing a surprise drop-in on your ex for the holidays hoping to "easily get it together tonight"???? I just don't see that ending well for all involved.

2. Baby It's Cold Outside - originally by Frank Loesser and Lynn Garland
Following up on the Christmas Booty Call is a worse offense - the opportunistic significant other. This poor song is first abused by the fact that it was a pop hit made over into a Christmas standard. And even considering that the roles in the original score were dubbed to be sung by a "mouse" and a "wolf," I still fail to see any holiday spirit in slipping a line in there about trying to seduce your guest by spiking their drink. I guess 1944 was too early for roofies, but it sounds pretty darn close to me.

3. Last Christmas - by Wham!
Rounding out the relationship drama, we have the passive agressive dumped boyfriend. And it wouldn't be half as painful if it wasn't so obvious to all of us that he still isn't over it. Firstly - if he really had "found a real love" he would be oblivious to the cold heartless user that dumped him last year, and not obsessing over meeting their eyes across the room. Lastly, I think his current squeeze should be wary of leaving him under the misteltoe unchaperoned since he still thinks that just a kiss will be all it takes to fool him back into thinking he's in love.

I'm not sure what bad relationship choices have to do with Christmas, but people sure seem to like to sing about them.

4. Santa Baby - written by Joan Javits
Ahhh, greed. Because if you're not sick of listening to kids appending their Christmas lists with every commercial break while watching Nickelodeon, you must want to listen to someone in their late twenties suggest something small like a yacht for Christmas. I wonder what the people against Occupy Wall Street would have to say about that gift list. Maybe that she's confusing Santa Claus with an Arab sheikh. And of course that she should get a job.

5. Do They Know Its Christmas Time - by Band Aid
I think Band Aid is a noble cause. I really do. And the poor people affected by famine and caught in the crossfire of civil insugence really do need all the help they can get (Remember "We Are the World?") But when you're saying things like "Where the only water flowing is a bitter sting of tears. And the christmas bells that ring there are the clanging chimes of doom," it doesn't really promote a sense of hope or faith for the season of giving. And although Ethiopia, for which the song was originally written, has a population that is about 60% Christian, Africa as a whole really only has a total Christian population of about 40%. So no, the majority of Africans probably don't care much about Christmastime at all. Especially if like the song says, they're just happy to be breathing in a "world where nothing ever grows," and "no rain or rivers flow."

So what would I like to hear on the radio? More holiday mash ups that can make a terrible song actually quite good when you cut all the date rape references out. Like Josh and the Empty Pocket's rendition of Baby Its Cold Outside. Christmas songs more centered on general goodwill, like Maybe This Christmas by Ron Sexsmith. And something my kids can rock out to that isn't sung by indentured pubescent rodents, like I Want an Alien For Christmas by Fountains of Wayne.

Hope yours was a very merry one!

Candyland

Its during the months of October through December that my husband and I rehash our plan of relocating to Canada. It always comes up in passing, but we actually semi-seriously consider it at this point in the year.

Why would we consider defecting to another country you ask? Easy. Besides knowing some great people there, Canada also has great food allergy policies for making their candy in facilities free of cross contamination. Just look at the back of this Canadian Kit Kat.


Besides the ingredient translation in French instead of Spanish, do you notice that there is no warning about the item being made in a facility that processes peanuts or tree nuts? That's because they aren't. They're made in a dedicated nut free facility. What a shame the US doesn't have more of those!

So any candy that comes into our house gets divided into piles of the following; pure evil, okay for consumption by family members, and Scootch safe.


Pure evil means it contains nuts or peanut butter, and noone can eat it around Scootch. Even if they're willing to abide by the 5 hour rule of avoiding contact with Scootch and any of his eating utensils and glasses until the aforementioned time limit is passed to be assured the nut traces can't be transferred, there is still the risk of dropped nut pieces, or the danger of him coming in contact with the wrapper, etc. Just too much to worry about, so its easier to just plain ban it from the house. The second category of candy is free from nut ingredients, but is usually processed in a facility that has a problem with cross contamination. That means Scootch shouldn't eat it, but if other family members do, he shouldn't be in danger of accidentally being exposed to any allergens. The third category of candy is my favorite. This is the stuff we can leave out and not freak about when he decides to sneak out of bed in the morning and pilfer it from the pantry himself. Unfortuantely almost all of it has to be shipped to the house since noone carries Canadian Nestle or Vermont Nut Free chocolate in their stores. I mean, only one Shoprite out of the 4 in our area carry Sunbutter on their shelves. I think it would take a miracle to get allergy-free candy mainstreamed into the consumer marketplace.

So back to our relocation discussion. I go to bed and dream of living in a country where nut and egg free baked goods are sold in the bakery section of the supermarket. Where you can pick up a candy bar in the checkout aisle and it be free of cross contamination. Where allergy friendly ice cream cakes are available everywhere instead of just the local ice cream shop. I dream of all that happening here since I know we probably will never find the guts or the money to make such a move happen.

Who knows. Maybe Scootch will grow up and make it happen here.

Gifts of Motherhood

The Monkey is a talented kiddo. She's bright and (usually) articulate when she isn't pretending to be a puppy dog or talking in her i-ey babble (which involves adding an "ey" to the end of every word. It sounds something like "Mommy I-ey wanty juicy pleasey"). The Mr. Hyde side of this is that she's very headstrong and independent. She knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. And she can get very stubborn about the 'getting' part of it, as in she wants to do it herself.
I'm sure you've already seen exhibit one above. That was the gift she left us for Valentine's Day. Apparently having an accident wasn't worth waking us up for. She just decided she'd clean it up herself with an entire roll of toilet paper.
Now I do admit I'm at least half to blame for this. Her entire life I've tried to teach her how to do things herself so she would establish a good foundation of self worth and self reliance. This is coming back to bite me now that she's decided age 3 1/2 is only a step away from getting her own apartment.
But I've decided I'm just going to try and ride this out. If I truly want to give her all the rewards a gift of knowing the breadth of her self reliance can bring, she's going to have to learn her limits at the same time.
And Mommy is just going to stock up on Mostenbockers.

The Most Wonderful Time

Hubby and I look forward to Christmas brunch all year long. I guess it helps that we never whip up the motivation to recreate any of the holiday goodies that are indulged upon during the most magical of mornings at any other time of the year. But anyways, we were still salivating over the visions of future lefse and breakfast round when the referee called a time out for an ingredients check.
You see, ever since Scootch was diagnosed, even the most simplest of pleasures now needs to be scruitinized for potential dangers, and boy oh boy did Christmas brunch fail the test.
Here is a run-down of the menu;
-Scrambled eggs (are you kidding?)
-Homeade sausages (one thing he can eat)
-Bacon (two things he can eat)
-Hardangerlefse with jam (we were doing good until the "brush with egg" part on the baking directions)
-Almond breakfast round (yeah, no. Totally not)

As you can see, Scootch seemed limited to the Christmas version of the Atkins diet. So what is a momma to do besides loading him up with Apple Jacks before heading over for the brunch festivities? It was still a little disheartening that on the first Christmas he was actually able to eat with us at the table, he couldn't fully participate in a meal served by his own family (who I would think would be a little more sensitive to his needs).
So, live and learn. I guess I'll need to insist on bringing something next year if we can't agree on a change to the menu.