Potpourri

Dudes.

It has been so long since I logged in here, my browser couldn’t even remember the address to auto-fill for me. I had a momentary blank out on my password. And then the Dashboard looked like a foreign landscape and it took me a few seconds to remember how to open up a new post.

The times, they are a-flyin’.

Fall is here, finally. We woke up to mid-50′s temps and I put on a MATERNITY SWEATER. I could just swoon. I love the look of maternity sweaters (cozy, warm, they swaddle you up and make everyone go, “Oh, look: pregnant. Not fat.”) and never got to wear them while gestating Smooch down in South Florida. After a little reminder at my last midwife appointment (“We only need 300 extra calories for the baby, dear….”) and with the date for my glucose tolerance test looming in three weeks, I got ambitious and went out for a walk in the cool morning air. It was delicious, but I still only did one lap of the neighborhood. No sense in burning out on the first day I try, right?

I’m 25-and-a-half weeks pregnant, and this Doodlebug is a funny little girl. As I type, my be-sweatered belly is thumping and rolling. Boom-digga-boom-boom-boom. Ker-thwack. She likes her private time when Smooch is out of the way… she’s most active first thing when I wake up in the wee hours, as Gruff leaves for work; and then again during Smooch’s naptime; and then late in the evening after Smooch goes to bed. It’s either early sibling avoidance, or else those are just the only times I stop moving all day and it wakes her up. One of the two.

It’s just a little more than a month until we get to vote. Gruff has the week off work (coincidentally – he didn’t plan a vacation around the election) and we’re excited to get to go to the polls together for the first time since we’ve been together. He’s a total news junkie, so he’s looking forward to staying up all night to watch the talking heads as the results roll in. Before this year, I was really clueless about politics, but -you might remember- I decided to do my very best to get educated on the candidates back during primary season, and now I’m almost as hooked on political news as my husband. It’s a little wierd that we can have an intelligent conversation about the candidates over dinner, but it’s a good thing.

And *ahem*…. have you noticed that Christmas is coming? I went to Hobby Lobby with Smooch yesterday (“Wobby Wobby”, he says, with great glee. “H-O-B-B-Y says Wobby Wobby! Yay”) and it seems like half the store is dedicated to Christmas decorations. As we turned the corner and caught sight of the green & red, Smooch lifted both hands above his head. “Kissmiss tees! I EXCITED! Kissmiss, Mommy!” Thanks, Wobby Wobby. Now I get to field that query… oh, daily… for like ten weeks. Lovely.

Also on the holiday note, I have –somewhat recklessly– decided to try to make many of our gifts for family members this year. Like I don’t have enough going on, right? I have a huge list of projects to make FOR Doodlebug, another list of projects that need to be completed around the house before she gets here, and now a list of things to make for a holiday that’s just a couple of weeks before she’s due. I’m nothing if not optimistic.

Social Anxiety and Summer Sitting

I really thought I was past this point in my life, but apparently not. I’m going to have a summer job. At least it’s a darn sight better than that year I worked at a seafood restaurant all summer. I came home from that job every night exhausted, with my calves aching from standing up for my whole 6 or 8 hour shift, and completely depressed over the state of my tips in a tiny, rural, South-Georgia town.

And then there was the summer I worked at a furniture store. I’ve never been a good salesperson, and I was 18 – what did I know about purchasing a bed or a couch or a washing machine? That was an exercise in futility, but the owners went to my church and I think they just wanted to help me out as I tried to make money before I headed off to college.

This year, I’ll be babysitting two boys – 6 and 8 – four days a week, for eight weeks. Their family goes to our church (notice a trend in how I get my jobs?) and their mom posted a flyer a few weeks ago looking for summer childcare. I tore off a strip and then agonized for eight days about calling her.

Gruff thinks I would benefit from a little antidepressant or antianxiety medication, sometimes. I mean, I don’t know why – I’m generally a very happy (some might even call me perky!) young woman, and even though new places and new people freak me the heck out, years of moving and being the “new kid” have forced me to develop coping skills, so I manage to find new friends, new circles to move in, everywhere we go. When I was a kid, I did have a mild little case of agoraphobia that lasted for about a year. (It was right before another upcoming move, and in retrospect I think it was my way of acting out my fear of moving, uprooting, and starting over. I just didn’t want to go anywhere new, or anywhere without my family, for awhile. When I did– when they made me– I had a few panic attacks. I think that if my parents had reacted less to it, it probably would have resolved sooner on its own. But that’s water under the bridge now.) These days, I may fret and worry before a new social situation every once in a while, but I always make myself go – and I always have fun once I’m there. My one remaining “social anxiety trigger” is making phone calls.

This is FUNNY to people who know me well. I talk on the phone with my mom several times a week, usually for over an hour at a shot. I call my brother once a week or so for similarly long conversations, and I call a few of my friends who I’ve left behind in various states as often as I can. Those phone calls I love. Those phone calls make a long day better.

But calling someone I don’t know? Say, to offer up my services as a capable babysitter? Or, you know, to order a pizza?! Oh, good grief, please don’t make me! I know, that’s ridiculous. The pizza guy does not care a whit about me. But still, I hate doing it. Gruff has probably ordered 96% of all the pizzas we’ve consumed, because I whine and gripe and procrastinate doing it, and finally he takes the phone and makes the call so we will get our pizza delivered before the next Ice Age hits.

So, getting back to my summer job. I finally mustered up my courage (after a well-timed verbal jab from Gruff, I admit it) and made the call. As usually happens when I worry excessively about something, it went Fine. No Big Deal. (Will that help calm my nerves the next time? Nope. But thanks for trying.) The boys’ mom, J, was sweet and friendly, and we discussed the basics of what she needs. We ended the phone call with a plan to meet face-to-face after church on Sunday and a deal to each speak with our respective husbands.

On Sunday, we met briefly, and then on Friday she came over to our house. My biggest worry at that point was negotiating my pay – I knew that I couldn’t do it for the wage she paid her sitter last year, but I didn’t want to sound mercenary or rude in asking for what I considered fair. Gruff and a friend of mine really helped bolster my confidence, though – they had both pointed out that I’m a GEM of a sitter. I’m a fellow mother; I have an impeccable driving record; I’m an experienced (and nationally certified!) early childhood educator; and because I’m an otherwise stay-at-home-mom, I’m pretty flexible about the hours and days I’m available. I felt a little bit like Stuart Smalley, repeating all of that to myself, but I managed to croak out my request for the hourly pay I had discussed with my husband.

Can you even imagine the relief I felt when she smiled, and said she’d have to talk it over with her husband to be sure, but she thought that was completely reasonable and do-able and “well worth it?” Oh, internets, I did it! I stood up for something to, basically, a stranger – and I did it nicely, but I still managed to get what I wanted!

I made a call, did an interview, and found a job –at a price that’s worth it– that allows me to stay home with my son and make a great little extra income for a few months (which will go a long way to paying off credit card debt and reducing my overall financial stress). I’m so proud of myself… See, who needs Xanax?

 

Southern Breakfast, Midwest Snack (or, Bloggy Giveaway #3)

This giveaway is now closed. Thanks!

Well, hi again! I’m guessing that you’re here for the carnival. If this is your first visit, I’ve got a couple of other giveaways up from earlier this week – scroll down to check them out. During the last Carnival, the bloggy giveaway fairies must have sprinkled me with winner dust, because I won a bunch of prizes. This time around, I figured that I’d create a few of my own packages –each one telling a little bit about me– and pay the giveaway fun forward.

Right now, my family lives in the Midwest. We’ve been here almost a year, and I have to say I’ve been surprised by just how much I love it, how quickly it’s started to feel like home. Before this, other than a brief stint in South Florida for my husband’s medical school, I’ve always lived in the south. My grandmother is the consummate Southern lady – her speech is genteel, her personality is sweet and gracious, and her cooking takes your breath away. Her specialty is an astonishing breakfast buffet, a spread that my brother dreamed about during our long months between visits. A few weeks ago, when my brother visited me here at my new house, I had the immense pleasure of whipping up a big breakfast of my own for our two families. Something deep inside me felt like I’d completed another full circle - from being a kid who clamored for my grandmama’s family breakfast, to being a real grown-up and making those same memories for my son and nephew – and I realized that for me, a lot of family memories are connected to family meals.

So that brings me to the subject of this giveaway package. A little taste of home, from me to you! Your makings for a delicious Southern breakfast include: biscuit mix (no, it’s not the same as grandmama’s recipe, but it’ll do in a pinch), gravy mix (because what’s a biscuit without the gravy?), and coffee (because I truly believe that no good morning begins without coffee). Good additions to this breakfast would be bacon or sausage, fried or scrambled eggs, sliced tomatoes, or fried chicken, but since I can’t figure out how to put those in the mail, you’re on your own there. And then, in a nod to my new home, a little Midwestern snack. Did you know that you can make your own microwave popcorn without buying those little pre-packaged bags? I’ll send you popcorn kernels and six lunch bags, along with a few seasoning suggestions from local friends.

This giveaway is open to anyone with a US mailing address. Just leave a comment on this post by Friday, April 25th telling me where you’re from (just the general region is fine!) and your favorite regional delicacy. Make sure to enter your email address in the little box (it will NOT appear on my blog; I will not put you on any mailing lists, I swear!) so I can get in touch with you if you win! I’ll use a random number generator to draw a winning comment on Monday, April 28th, and post the winners here after emailing them.

Writing this post has made me hungry, so I’m off to whip up a little snack. (Just what my waistline needs, right?)

Spring-a-ding-ding

Oh, people. Guess where I sit, right this very minute, as my fingers go tappity-tappity-tappity on this keyboard?

OUTSIDE.

Like, out on my deck. In the fresh air and sunshine. With my sleeves rolled up and our jackets discarded behind me, while my boy runs up and down the hill in the backyard, tosses rocks and dirt clods down the slide, and tries to figure out how to teeter-totter by himself.

And do you know what I spied, with my little eye, on the tips of the bushes up on that backyard hill? Little green buds of who-knows-what (because I am not a plant expert or anything, but even I know that after the buds come the blooming and hello, that means warmer weather is around the corner somewhere)!

It warms my heart – leaning my head way, way back and closing my eyes, feeling the sun beam down on my face until all I see is that red haze of warmth that must be on the other side of my eyelids. Watching my son scrape in the mud and try a little taste, watching him jump and run and roll in the grass. Hearing all the birds twitter and tweet and trill, hearing my windchime ring and tinkle in the breeze.

For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; the flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing is come. Song of Solomon 2:11-12

Pediddle

Sitting in the passenger seat tonight, after a lovely dinner with my two guys, I spotted a car with one burned-out headlight. A smile danced across my face as Gruff swung the car to the left and we headed up the steep hill into our neighborhood. Once, a long time ago, I sat in another seat and searched for single headlights in the dark.

I was in tenth grade, and in my high school’s marching band as part of the flag corps. (I was one of those girls in the sparkly sequined tops waving a big flagpole around and tossing it in the air and trying not to bean herself in the head.) Over the summer, as usually happened in our military-base town, a whole new crop of kids had moved in. One guy in particular — Damien — had joined my church’s youth group for a few outings and we’d started spending a lot of time together.

Oh, lord, he was sweet. And sensitive. We talked for hours on the phone, and he wrote me poetry – sonnets, even! He asked me to be his girlfriend, and I said yes, which was rather pointless since neither of us could drive and we weren’t allowed to go out on dates. But it was still the most romantic thing that had ever happened to me.

When school started that fall, we didn’t have any classes together – but we had marching band. He played the trumpet. (I don’t know why that’s significant, but I remember it, so I’m sharing.) I don’t remember if it was our first “away” game or the second – but I remember Damien asking me if I would sit with him instead of my girlfriends on the ride back to our school. Our team lost (my memory’s not that good. It’s just a certainty. Our football team always lost. –apologies to my other ex-boyfriend who played on said team.) and it didn’t matter. I was sitting on a worn, cracked brown vinyl seat in a stuffy, hot old school bus and holding hands with a boy. A boy who wrote me poems and songs and who passed me notes in the hallway.

As the bus exited the brightly-lit stadium parking lot and turned onto the highway that would take us home, Damien told me he was nervous about sitting with me on this ride home. He’d asked his dad for advice. His dad had told him about the headlight game – you were supposed to watch the other cars on the road carefully, and if you saw a vehicle with just one headlight, you called out “pediddle!” and you got to kiss anyone in your vehicle who hadn’t called out “pediddle.” Clearly, we would not be making this a bus-wide game. It would be just the two of us. So basically, one way or another, we were going to kiss. Our first kiss. Tonight.

If we could spot a pediddle.

How this was supposed to make Damien less nervous, I do not know. Because this game? Made me excited (in that girlish, omg-he-totally-wants-to-kiss-me! squealy way) but also terribly nervous. So we sat there, holding sweaty hands, whispering nonsense conversation, and peering intently out our grimy bus window.

The ride home was over an hour, on a busy highway, on a Friday night. Would you believe we didn’t see a single car with a burned-out light? Darn these conscientious drivers and their immaculate vehicle maintenance! Our bus was getting close to the school. Any minute now, we’d turn in to the parking lot and the spell would be broken. The lights would come on, all our friends would push and shove down the narrow bus aisle; we’d unload flags and instruments and someone would offer to drive a group to Waffle House. It would be loud and chaotic and our chance would be gone.

I saw the floodlights that beamed onto the school’s stucco signboard. Damien sighed and fidgeted, now peering out our window and the one on the other side of the bus. Then he jerked his hand out of mine and said, “Pediddle! I saw one! I really did, I swear.” To this day, I tell you, I don’t know if he did or not. But my money is on not. Anyway, he leaned toward me – with only a few hundred feet of peace, quiet, and darkness left between us and the end of the magic – and kissed me.

It was not magical. I think it was probably the average first kiss of an average high schooler. But at the moment, it was sweet and perfect and right, and I liked that boy so much that it felt like an amazing first kiss.

Looking back on it, I’m still touched by the tender innocence of that moment. Damien was a great high-school boyfriend. He was gentle and quiet and calm. He was a good student and a lot of fun to be with. He charmed my parents and obeyed his own. I love that he was nervous about the prospect of kissing me – and that he talked to his dad about it – and then confessed it all to me that very night. I wonder if teenagers today are as transparent and trusting.

I also wonder where he ended up. We broke up midway through that school year and his family moved the next summer. A quick search for his name didn’t turn anything up, which is probably a good sign – no arrests, no obituaries, no embarrassing headlines or YouTube vids. I hope he’s happy, and I hope he is still as honest and kind as he used to be.

And I hope that if he sees a car with one headlight some dark winter night, that he thinks of me with a little fondness. “Pediddle!”

Heart Lessons

I’m posting today at Midwest Parents about a bad bloodwork result, reflections on what I saw growing up, and how to go about making better choices for my own health – and to set a better example for Smooch.

While I was at home, I saw a mom who could put away a half-gallon container of ice cream all by herself every two days. I saw a mom who frequently bought a bag of candy, chips, or other snack food on her way out of the grocery store, and ate most of it (she usually shared a little with us kids!) by the time our car was back in our driveway. I saw a mom who didn’t exercise – even walks around the block – and who really didn’t ever have time by herself away from our family.

(Continue reading…)

Homemade Christmas

So, I really should have posted this about a month ago. I stumbled upon a “Home-Made Christmas” effort at Brandie’s blog and thought, Hey, that’s brilliant! And likely less expensive than getting everyone gift cards –which, as a side note, is sort of like just exchanging cash with each other, isn’t it?– and since I’m pretty crafty AND I have free time –side note, HA!– I can totally do that! Well. As it turns out, I wasn’t able to do home-made Christmas for everyone on our list. We usually give to each other, Smooch, and our parents and siblings. This year we also gave gifts to my brother’s girlfriend & her two-year-old son.

I made a little variety of felt play food for Smooch, so at least one of his gifts was home-made. (And his big gift from us, a play kitchen, was home-made by somebody… and then we bought it. That counts a little bit, right, since it wasn’t mass-produced in Thailand or something.)

Gruff and I went totally old-school this year and exchanged home-made coupon books. I have one for a Diaper-Free Day (woo-hoo, yeah, baby!) and he has one for a batch of cookies. We made ten coupons apiece, and they had to be for things we can do for each other for free or for cheap. It was mainly motivated by a desire not to do Christmas on Credit… but it turned out to be quite fun, thinking of ten little gifts of love that would make each other smile. Of course, my coupons for him were all cute – printed in a fun font, then pasted to scrapbook paper and decorated with stickers, tucked into an envelope with yet more stickers. The coupons I recieved were written with a half-dry Sharpie on red construction paper (which I had to fetch because he didn’t know where it was stored in the house). But as they say – it’s the thought that counts, no?

My mother and mother-in-law recieved holiday hostess aprons. I’m really proud of them. I have the materials to make a third apron, for myself, but it got shoved aside in the pre-Christmas rush, so now I have eleven and a half months to procrastinate finishing mine for next year.

I pulled out the knitting needles and worked on my rusty techniques to make a scarf for my brother’s girlfriend. It’s a really pretty blue ‘homespun’ style of yarn, that knitted up to a super-soft, nubbly texture. I put long fringe on it, and she said she loved it. Now I just hope it gets cold enough in north Georgia for her to get some use from it! That’s another project with a twin-in-the-making; I bought a TON of that yarn since it had been so long since I knit or crocheted anything and so I have plenty left over to make another scarf for myself. See the fun in making gifts? You end up getting plenty for yourself too! (No, no, that’s not the spirit of Christmas! Sorry.)

The men in our family tend to be hard to buy for. My dad and brother are technophiles, but snobby selective about what they like. Since I don’t know the first thing about most gadgets and gizmos, I know that I’m in over my head if I try to buy something for their computers, cars, or stereos. As it turned out, none of the guys got home-made gifts. My dad and father-in-law both got coffee mugs emblazoned with a collage of photos of their respective selves with Smooch; my brother got a subscription to a gaming magazine. And then Gruff has two sisters, spaced ten years apart. The sixteen year old is your average teenager – so we went the safe route and gave her a gift card. The older sister is married and just bought a house, so we gave her and her husband a joint gift of Home Depot spending money and a “new home” Christmas ornament. Easy, but not particularly sentimental.

But for next year, I have grand plans! I want to do a home-made gift for everyone on the list! (I’d also like to add a few friends to my list. Two in particular gave gifts to me and Smooch this year, and I felt so bad that my budget just didn’t allow for me to reciprocate. They are great friends, the kind who know that residency has it’s sucking points and that finances are one. They are the kind of friends who gave simply because they love us and wanted to say they were thinking of us, and they aren’t upset a bit that I didn’t have a big package to mail to them. Still, I really want to do something for them, even if it’s small. So I’m going to plan ahead to make it happen next year.)

As if I haven’t taken on enough already –and it’s only January 2nd!– I’m going to start working on gifts for one and all. My general plan is to keep an eye out for ideas the first few months of this year, and then to start buying supplies and start working on gifts in the late spring or early summer. I think that spacing out the expenditures will help; since the budget is tight I can’t buy hundreds of dollars worth of things at once. But ten dollars here and fifteen there is okay, and then when Christmas rolls around we’ll hopefully only have Smooch (and maybe each other) to buy for.

There are dozens – if not hundreds – of ideas out there. Here are a few I’ve seen so far:
-Cocoa made tote bags, crayon holders, and really precious PJs this year. I really can’t get over those jammies.
-Tip Junkie’s nativity hand puppets are so sweet. They’d be the perfect gift for kids or a young family!
-Of course, Sew Mama Sew did a whole series of posts in their Handmade Holidays section. Great ideas there!

2nd Annual Year In Review

1. What did you do in 2007 that you’d never done before? Therapy/counseling. Bought a house. Started up a playgroup.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don’t think I made any resolutions last year, did I? As for 2008… I have big plans. Just stay tuned.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? My stepsister-in-law had a baby boy, and a friend from the medical school days had a little girl – both in May.

4. Did anyone close to you die? No, thank God.

5. What countries did you visit? None. How boring am I?

6. What would you like to have in 2008 that you lacked in 2007? More money. More time with my husband.

7. What dates from 2007 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
January 11 – I lost our baby at close to 11 weeks gestation.
February 1 – I found out about Gruff’s affair.
February 3 – Smooch’s first birthday.
April 6 – our offer was accepted on our first house.
June 15 – I moved into the new house.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Salvaging my marriage.

9. What was your biggest failure? Our finances – I just feel overwhelmed by the entire concept sometimes.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Yes, both physical and emotional.

11. What was the best thing you bought? My comfortable little 3-bedroom, 2-bath bilevel.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration? My friend’s sister K. Bear with me, here. Long story. I have a friend who lives in New England – we’d known each other online for years, had seen each other through pregnancies and babies and losses, but had never met. She’d had a really difficult year, and mine was just beginning to go bad, when her sister emailed me about setting up a surprise for my friend’s birthday. K made all the arrangments and paid for Smooch and I to fly up to New England. As it turned out, the timing couldn’t have been better. Though it was planned for four or five months, the trip took place about a month after I hit bottom. We spent a week at my friend’s house, and it was absolutely just what I needed. Even though it was a birthday gift to my friend, it was also a priceless gift for me. I’ll probably never be able to thank K for what she did for me this year.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? My mother’s.

14. Where did most of your money go? Into the house, of course!

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Painting (walls, not portraits). Writing. The new words & signs that Smooch has learned.

16. What song will always remind you of 2007? “Together, in the backyard again (in the place where we belong, where we’ll probably sing a song and we’ll maybe dance along)! We’ve got the whole wide world in our yard to explore, that’s why everyday we’re back for more!”

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?
A)I’m probably sadder than I was at this time last year – back then, I was pregnant and in ignorant bliss about what my husband had done. I felt like the world was my oyster. I don’t say that because I’m generally sad these days – I’m actually at a pretty good place. But at the same time, I’m a little more cynical and jaded than I used to be.
B) I think I’m probably at the same weight! And when you consider that last year I was eight weeks pregnant, that means that I need to lose a few pounds.
C) Poorer, if you measure by how much spending money is lying around after each paycheck these days – but richer since we’re finally building up equity in our house after years of renting.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of? Visiting my grandparents, since it seems like every time I speak with members of the extended family I’m hearing of more health problems for them. I fear that time is slipping away from us.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Talking to my parents, especially during those dark first months of the year. I’m afraid that they may never be able to forgive Gruff for the pain they saw me in, even if they don’t know specific details. In the last few weeks, I’ve also found out that my mom has been talking to other family members about me, and I’m hurt and bewildered that she’s using my words against me. All this time I thought I was going to her for support – I was really giving her ammo.

20. How did you spend Christmas? We got up in the morning and had a quiet breakfast upstairs, then took Smooch down to the playroom for his gifts from us. (All the presents from family and friends had already been opened.) We gave him a beautiful wooden play kitchen and quite a few accessories – play food and pans and apron. The morning was really pleasant and idyllic, but then reality set in. I had diapers to wash, laundry to fold, meals to cook. The mommy-work just never takes a holiday.

21. Did you fall in love in 2007? I suppose I did – with my husband, as things started to come back together for us.

22. What was your favorite TV program? Brothers & Sisters – I love the writing, the pace, and the acting. (Don’t love the infidelity subplot, but it looks like they’ve just about wrapped that bit up.)

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? No. (I know what you’re thinking. Not even her.)

24. What was the best book you read? Twilight, by Stephenie Meyer – which I read on Jessica’s recommendation. I’m still on the library wait list for the other two books.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery? Pathetically, the light-rock radio station which plays Christmas music 24/7 starting the week before Thanksgiving.

26. What did you want and get? A house. My happiness back.

27. What did you want and not get? My baby in my arms.

28. What was your favorite film this year? Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

29. What did you do on your birthday and how old were you? I wrote a really long post. Went out to dinner, cleaned up Smooch when he dumped my entire glass of ice water in his lap, and had a really amazing chocolate mousse brownie when I got home. I turned 27.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? The power to stop my uterus from malfunctioning, again.

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2007? First six months – Depression Chic. Second six months – Mom On The Go.

32. What kept you sane? My friends, many of whom I only know online. Writing. Coffee.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I really can’t think of anyone this time around.

34. What political issue stirred you the most? I’ve been so out of the loop, I really didn’t pay any attention to politics. I need to start, though. I promise I won’t vote uniformed in November.

35. Who did you miss? My friend B from Nashville. I’ve got plans to go back for a visit after the new year, though.

36. Who was the best new person you met? C, a mom who helps run the attachment-parenting playgroup we joined. She and her daughter are a great match for Smooch and I. I think she’s funny and smart, and she inspires me to try new things (composting! EC!). Just today, I called her at 9:30 and invited her over for an impromptu playdate. There were dishes piled sky-high in my sink and laundry needing folding all over my bed, but it didn’t matter. It’s always good to have a wonderful friend like that.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2007. I cannot control what the people around me choose to do. I can control the way I behave, though, and I need to honor my own needs. If that means that I speak up about something that’s a sensitive subject, or that I say no to something I’m being asked to do, or that I march to a different beat, then that’s fine. People who really love me will learn to accept that.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.
“I’ll start this broken heart
I’ll fix it up so it will work again
Better than before”

***

Yeah. These questions were more fun last year. If you’ve been with me for long (or browsed my archives even a little bit), you know that 2007 wasn’t a kind, gentle, nurturing year for me. It was more of a bad-ass, kick-you-when-you’re-down, bi-polar with major episodes year. Hopefully 2008 is a year that has taken its meds and practices yoga, or something – I don’t expect miraculous heights every day, I’d just like to catch a break and find the center position, you know?

If you’re hitting the end-of-the-year wall or need your mojo pinched, consider yourself tagged. And let me know, I’d love to hear about your YiR. Especially if your year was better than mine – and odds are, it was.

Six Years

Happy Anniversary, Babe.

You can teach old decorations new tricks!

I participated in BooMama’s Christmas Tour of Homes last year (and I’m not even going to link to that post – you can go hunt in the archives if you really want to – because it was posted on my old site in Blogger and I never did get the photos to align properly) and it was a lot of fun. So when I heard that she was hosting it again this year, I had to sign up.

For one thing, I really love the Christmas season. It starts for us after Thanksgiving dinner, when we break out the Rubbermaid bins and start decorating. I love the planning – I have lists of gifts to make and to buy, lists of things to do, lists of food to buy and prep and cook. I love the music; I was so happy when a local radio station switched to 24/7 Holiday Music two weeks before Thanksgiving. I love the special events at our church, the decorations in our neighborhood, the way even the surly checkout girl at the grocery store smiles a little more. I love it all!

For another thing, this year is special. We moved into our first house this summer, and this will be my first time decorating this place for the holidays. We’d planned a lot of big new things – our first live tree, plenty of garland for our staircase, and some simple and tasteful outdoor lights. The budget crunch put the kibosh on those plans, though, so we’ll try again next year. This year turned out to be all about using our old, beloved decorations in new places.

Come on in!

We live in a bi-level, so when you walk in our front door you’re standing on a 4×6 landing with two sets of stairs to choose from: up or down. The entry landing has these little touches-of-Christmas.

 Come on down the stairs into the playroom. Now I swear, y’all, this is what it honestly looked like this afternoon. (We played a rousing game of “pick-up” this morning and Smooch was SO into it.) I have a little family of snowmen on the ledge there on the left:

And a snowman throw I picked up cheap-after-Christmas from Current last year on the sofa, plus a few snowy picture frames (above the DVD shelves that I built! With my own two hands! When we moved in here!) and another snowman down in the corner. Smooch doesn’t say “snow” or “snowman.” He calls them “shoo-sha”. We don’t know why. When we correct him, he cocks his head to one side and gives us a look and repeats firmly, “Shoo.Sha.”

Let’s go upstairs, now, shall we?

My kitchen is home to quite a few shooshas. The tart warmer burns Yankee “Sparkling Pine,” of course. The recipe clip has a snowman at the back (covered up by my Christmas cookie recipes, sorry!) and the spoon rest was a gift from my Mom.

 Notice how I don’t have to let you see the mess on my kitchen counters? I love the internet. Come tour my home! I won’t even clean up! The snowman cookie jar was a wedding present from my Grandma, but the lid/head got broken last year so now I’m afraid to use it with real cookies. What if someone accidentally ingests a little sliver of ceramic? Yikes. Up on the cabinets it goes.

Smooch’s “Little People” nativity lives on the kitchen island. I confess to gathering up the pieces – it didn’t look like this earlier today. But in the spirit of being Real And Honest, I didn’t put away our library bag, my purse, or Smooch’s shoes and jacket. Because you’re my friends and you won’t judge me. The cow and camel aren’t present because they are Smooch’s new best friends. In fact, Camel came with us to the library and Old Navy this afternoon.

My nativity – by Willow Tree – is atop my pantry cabinet this year. Apparently the opening and closing of the doors have spun poor Joseph right ’round, ’round, ’round.
To the left of this picture is our dining table and through that doorway there is the living room.

And in the living room? Our pitiful little Christmas tree again. (I really, really, dislike this tree. But it’s the one we already had, so I’m stuck with it. But one of these years…. we’re getting a live tree for up here and this one will go in the playroom.)

And to the right of that rocking chair is the little half-wall that overlooks the stairwell and entry landing. It’s my make-do “mantle.” And see that middle stocking? When Smooch pulled it down the fourteenth time, the (very heavy) stocking holder fell off the wall and landed on his big toe, corner first. He has a small black spot in the center of the nail bed of the big toe, and every time we take his socks on or off, he tells us, “Ho-ho-ho. Boo-boo!” in a terribly pitiful little voice.

Now then, want to follow me down the halls? All the doors have something Christmas-y, again this year.

And the last stop on our tour is in my room. My mom gave me this nativity set for our first Christmas (three days after our wedding). She made it herself, back when she was single & in the Army. (Not sure why that’s relevant, I doubt that the majority of GI Janes are out firing up ceramics, but whatever. That’s how she tells it.) I remember getting this set out of our Christmas decorations every year when I was a kid – how carefully she would unwrap each piece and how cool it was when I was old enough to help set it up.

On your way out, won’t you take a cookie? The lady at the Starbucks drive-through this afternoon told me, officially, that NOTHING YOU EAT IN DECEMBER HAS CALORIES. I raised my cup of Gingerbread Latte and cheered. And then I came home and ate three of these cookies. I do hope she was telling the truth.

P.S. I think –though I’m not certain– that if you click the pictures, it will take you through to Flickr, where you can see the notes I’ve written on most of them.