No one shot their eye out
Was it a successful Christmas at Casa Mir? I think it was. No one threw up, no bones were broken, there were no car accidents or kitchen fires or other disasters.
I mean, sure, I discovered mid-afternoon that somehow my father has never seen A Christmas Story, but that was easily remedied. Even as Chickadee loudly and frequently proclaimed that this was “the dumbest movie ever,” I noticed that didn’t stop her from watching it with us. Because really, no matter how you think you feel about it, once you happen upon this movie on the television on Christmas day, you are legally obligated to complete the viewing. And even if you think you hate it, you will still laugh in all of the appropriate places. (“… only I didn’t say ‘fudge.'”)
So all in all: A lovely day. There were some highs and lows, of course. read more…
The opposite of silent night
First: Thank you for your kindness and enthusiasm on Chickadee’s post. Her head no longer fits through doorways, and she has proclaimed every one of you to be “totally cool.”
Second: I am rightthissecond eavesdropping on a giggle-filled sibling session of LEGO Lord of the Rings on the Wii. Maybe I’m over-romanticizing because I’ve missed these sounds so much, but I really do think the kids hadn’t realized how much they missed each other. I want to freeze this moment in time, even if it is punctuated with Chickie screeching and Monkey laughing so hard he keeps doing things like accidentally throwing quest items into the river (which makes her screech more, which makes him laugh harder, which… you get the idea).
Third: Merry Christmahanukwanzakah to all. I hope you are feeling as blessed and happy as I am right now.
Happy, happy reunion: A guest post from Chickadee
She’s home! SHE’S HOME! I shall love her and hug her and squeeze her and call her George Chickadee. Oh, wait. I already did that. And then, she wrote you this post. MAH BAYBEE, growing up and stuff. Enjoy! —M
What have I missed most about being home? Is it the home cooked meals, or the dog licking my tonsils every time I open my mouth to talk? Or maybe it’s the higher-than-30-degrees weather?
No. No, it would definitely have to be my brother waking me up in the morning by repeatedly hitting me in the face with my own dirty sock. Ah, home sweet (er, smelly) home.
After that lovely encounter, the morning festivities began. There was a whirlwind of smoothies, dog slobber, and coffee
The truth about true love
Here is where I consciously choose to get away from The Heavy because I just need to, and we all pretend that’s perfectly logical and seamless and not weird. Yes? Yes.
Sidebar: Chickadee is supposed to get on a plane in a few hours. As of this moment, that’s still on schedule to happen. If you wouldn’t mind just, you know, crossing all of your fingers and toes that she shows up here tonight, that would be super swell. And it’s really not even for me; Monkey told me all he wanted for Christmas was for his “sissy” to be here with us, and then I melted into a puddle of goo, and that means it’s not even me being selfish and missing her, anymore, but about THE CHILDRENS and so I am just going to hopehopehope that tonight goes according to plan because DAMMIT something has to, this year.
In the meantime, I always have Otto here to entertain me. That’s what it means to love, honor, and cherish another human—you also provide them with blog fodder. I’m pretty sure it was in our vows.
And really, even if it wasn’t, it’s kind of too late for him now. read more…
Sorry, I’ve been cleaning
It’s a funny thing about putting one foot in front of the other; it works just fine until you get to a point where you realize you can only keep doing it if you shut out everything else. Then you put one foot in front of the other with your fingers in your ears and your eyes closed and people look at you funny.
So that’s what I’ve been doing since last Friday. I’m still doing it, to some extent. My parents are here, which is fantastic, but there is now some question of whether Chickadee is coming home for Christmas, as she has managed to come down with a mighty case of The Crud at precisely the wrong time. I maybe didn’t realize how badly I need to see her until it became possible that I wouldn’t, and that on top of everything else… well, it’s just been a long week (hello, understatement).
So mostly I’ve been vacuuming and dusting and scrubbing. Also, I’m over at Feel More Better, talking about not talking about it. I’m still feeling a little unsteady, but my house is really clean.
Have smart friends, especially in hard times
When you don’t know what to say, it’s always good to have friends more articulate than you are.
My friend Kathryn is smart and articulate and beautiful and committed to being part of the light in the world. I’m going to try to follow her example. Thanks, Kathryn.
NOT how we’re ending this stupid year
Praise the lord and pass the libation of your choosing; this awful, awful year is almost over. As Monkey might say: DANCING TIME!
Just a couple more weeks and change. And then we can kick 2012 in the rear and everything will be better. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA. (Who, me? Hysterical laughter? I don’t know what you’re… oh, shut up. I’m entitled to a little hysteria these days. The logical part of my brain knows that flipping over the calendar isn’t necessary going to lift the Curse of 2012 from Casa Mir, but you just hush up and let me have my fantasy, mmmkay?)
I can see the finish line. I can practically taste it. (It tastes like peppermint, and relief.) We just have to get there.
In the meantime, we keep on keepin’ on. Otto has finished classes for the semester. Monkey finished Virtual School and has just a couple of days of Hippie School left. I’m working away (in my NICE CLEAN OFFICE, don’t you dare put that down in here, dude, it’s CLEAN and I don’t want your mess). The tree is going up this weekend, travelers are poised to travel, and all is as it should be.
Or, at least, I thought it was. read more…
Holiday meltdown in 3… 2…
It’s the most wonderful time of the year, and by “wonderful” I of course mean “stressful, over-hyped, and mob mentality PMS-filled.” Because really, it’s not just us, right? EVERYONE is cranky? Like, “Happy Holidays! ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME?” kind of cranky? I want to be peaceful and calm and bright, I do. And I assume other folks do as well. But the pace of the season and the rushrushrush to finish school/work/life-goals before Christmas and/or the end of the year is just turning us all into giant jerkfaces.
(See, you can tell I’m working really hard on being gentler and kinder because I said “jerkfaces” instead of “raging assholes.” I am so proud of me! I mean, I was until I pointed out… oh, crap. Nevermind.)
Even Hippie School—bastion of love and light and kindness—seems to be floundering in a bit of less-than-lovely behavior, no doubt brought on by that osmosis that happens between stressed-out parents and their kids. And I am less than proud of my latest approach to this, which is more or less to look my child in the eye while he’s complaining about someone else and say, “Stop. STOP. Ask yourself: ‘Am I being a jerk right now? REGARDLESS OF THE JERKINESS OF ANYONE ELSE INVOLVED?’ If the answer is ‘yes,’ STOP IT.” read more…
Exercising my whine muscles
So hey, the weirdest thing happened. Remember back when we did that group fitness challenge thing three years ago and I lost weight and cleaned my house and generally became shiny and new? That was awesome. And I was skinny.
And then time marched on and I stopped exercising and resumed eating everything I could cram into my mouth, and I am no longer shiny OR skinny, which really seems unfair. I mean, why shouldn’t I be fit and trim even though I completely neglect to do anything that might make me so? IT’S UN-AMERICAN, THAT’S WHAT IT IS!
It’s also what I’m talking about over at Feel More Better, today. Because me and my elliptical need to make up, or I need to come up with a new plan. Help?
Rainy days and Mondays something something
I tend to be rather cerebral—I’m sure you never noticed that (oh, hi, you must be new here)—and as such, December has a way of knocking me into… I wouldn’t say a downward spiral, exactly, but a spiral more like a dog trying to chase its tail while on a staircase. There are so many THINGS that happen this month, so many reminders of what isn’t and what I wish wasn’t, and at some point in the month (if not at multiple points), I’m overwhelmed by a pervasive desire both to refuse to get out of bed AND to clone myself so that I can be everywhere I’m supposed to be. I suppose if that cloning thing ever works out, I can just hide under the covers and send my clones out to take care of life for me.
Some people are “To Do List” sorts of people. They derive great pleasure from crossing things off a list, and so they make lists with abandon. I am allergic to lists. I don’t know why this is, but I have a strong aversion to them. I suspect they make me feel inadequate, even though, yes, I KNOW, I could write “Make a list” as my first item and then cross it off, LIKE A BOSS. I suspect poor Otto had a moment of doubt about this whole marriage thing when he discovered that I never make a shopping list, which means I’m quite likely to return from the store with a trunkful of groceries but having forgotten the one thing we truly needed.
How To Pretend To Be A Responsible Adult Yet Be Completely Disorganized: my forthcoming book. (And by “forthcoming” I mean “never ever happening, because I suspect it would require some organizational skills I lack.”) read more…