Christmas is...

My dad has this album on vinyl. I remember every year we would play that thing on his turntable, the scratches and bumps coming through the stereo speakers along with Frank and Tony. It wasn't Christmas until that album was played.

But I wonder...

Putting up OUR tree is a nightmare of spilled ornament hooks, insane cats climbing the tree, and me yelling, "I just want ONE NORMAL PICTURE," as my two boys wrestle each other in the glow of the tree lights. Nobody listens and the music we turned-on-in-order-to-be-festive gets turned off because I can not deal with ANYMORE NOISE. Definitely not the warm and cozy holiday memories of my childhood.

Was I delusional? Have I supplanted real memories with invented ones I've seen/heard somewhere else (most likely television)? (Is supplant even the right word?)

Sure, we have our moments. We snuggle as a family and watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas...until Myles decides he NEEDS to whack his brother in the face with his dirty underwear.

Steve and I laugh at their silliness as they shovel the quarter inch of snow (that lasted one day before melting in what seems to be the never-ending rain of 2011)...until they start to use their shovels as light sabers and we have to take them away.

Christmas cards don't get sent out on time (New Year's cards, anyone?).

Fresh baked cookies come courtesy of the Pillsbury Dough Boy and last about ten seconds.

And the stockings...will be hung probably just in time for Santa to fill them on Christmas Eve.

Myles asked me why the Grinch was mean in the beginning. I have no idea. I have clearly missed a step somewhere in this whole Christmas thing.

Christmas is...different from how I remember it.

But that doesn't mean it is bad.

It's a simple rule

Don't tell someone how they SHOULD feel.

Making a difference

I struggle with what to say here when so many people I know are facing serious life issues. All at once, the belly-button gazing that was at one time so fun (and then became therapeutic) all seems silly now.

Cancer, mental illness, death, divorce, grief...if you're lucky only one of these will grab you by the hair and throw you down on the ground and stomp all over you at a time. And, if you're really unlucky, more than one (or the same one multiple times) will gang up and beat the living snot out of you until you have no choice but to surrender and ride it out until whatever happens...happens.

So what can I talk about that makes a bit of difference? Nothing. Today I wrote a shopping list that includes candy corn, light bulbs and paper towels. And it seems that's about all the "important" writing I will do today.

So I will instead encourage my foster dog to be sweet and snuggle...or crochet caps for cancer patients...or make memorial bracelets for deadbabymamas. Something to make me feel like I am making a difference to someone. Something to compensate for the navel gazing done here.

Later, I will eat macaroni and cheese and decorate pumpkins with my children. And hope (however unrealistically) that the bad stuff stays away from them forever.

New Blogger and me

OK...so I wrote a couple posts and thought I had posted them. But I guess Blogger has moved things around and I never actually hit PUBLISH...only SAVE. oops.

I fully intend to write more. I do. I have all these things I want to say that aren't about dead babies. Like how I discovered Sally Hansen nail polish and I LOVE it. Or how local stores no longer carry Jane cosmetics and I can't buy my blush anymore (and how old it makes me feel to realize the last time I bought blush I also bought a pregnancy test). Or how the "feral" foster dog got loose the other day and I thought he'd run away...but he didn't. Or how I'm brainstorming ways to grow a little photography business but I don't have the slightest idea where or how to start. Or how my mom wants to have Thanksgiving at her house...which is great because then I don't have to clean my house...but is bad because then I won't have a reason to clean my house so I probably WON'T clean my house.

Yeah...bet you wish I hadn't figured out that PUBLISH button issue.

Today, tomorrow, and yesterday

Today, my son gave himself a slight concussion in gym class. The school called and I jumped into crisis mode and picked him up and took him to the ER to be checked out. He's fine. He'll probably have a headache for a few days.

Me? I'm usually on a pretty even keel. I haven't been one to fall apart or obsessive protective instincts. I can roll with the punches for the most part.

But I told someone about my dead babies on Friday...someone who didn't know. So maybe that's why today seemed...I don't know...more.

We had to drive past the cemetery on the way to the ER. How's that for a fun train of thought to jump on?

And then I used the restroom in the ER...and washed my hands. And now they smell like that soap. That smell takes me back to May 2006.

I could lose them. I know that intellectually. But today the past collided with the present and future in a VERY sensory way that I am not so sure I'm prepared to cope with.

And now he is downstairs explaining to his little brother how he wound up in the hospital today.

This brother, that brother, all the brothers...

I need to go wash my hands now. Time to put the past back where it belongs and find my balance again.

Somebody pass the wine.