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Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Taking the Hit

With Christmas right around the corner I'm sure there are plenty of people out there feeling like the mental list of to-do's is a little longer than there are hours in the day to accomplish it all. I realize that this is a very busy time of year for everyone whether you are a man, a woman, a mother, a grandparent, a neighbor or a friend. We all find ourselves up to our elbows in Scotch tape and wrapping paper while we try to squeeze in some time to attend a holiday party and bake some cookies for Santa.

Yes, everyone is busy. At the risk however, of sounding like a martyr, I'm going to make the following statement: Nobody takes the hit at Christmas like the mother. Nobody.

Don't misunderstand, I love it all. I love the decorating, the cooking, the shopping, the wrapping, and generally creating something totally magical for my family to enjoy. I love going to Target for the new CD of Holiday Kids' Sing-a-longs and a bag of red and green M&M's. Hanging the tinsel on the tree with my 5-year old son is a gift in itself. Indeed, Christmas is a magical time and there is much to be thankful for.

For every action, however, there is an equal and opposite reaction and all this holiday spendor doesn't come without a price. The flip side of the festive coin is all the behind the scenes labor that goes into making this magical holiday spectacular. The Christmas cards that need to be addressed and mailed, the seemlingly neverending stream of gifts that need to be wrapped and tagged, or the six thousand bottles of wine that need to be stocked and brought to every house you stumble upon in your quest for holiday cheer.

The stockings need to be hung with care, the Santa gifts need to be wrapped in different paper so the kids don't get wise, the Elf on a Shelf needs to be strategically re-positioned every night, church needs to be attended and new holiday attire purchased for you and yours to be sure everyone is looking their Christmas best. Whew. Exhale.

No, of course no man would ever think of all these things. No man would ever concern himself with any of the inane items listed above and why? Because men aren't crazy. No self-respecting man would ever ask himself if candids would be okay for the family Christmas card this year since we didn't have a chance to schedule a professional photograph. What I'm trying to say is that we women put these things on ourselves and then we punish the people around us for the stress we've manufactured. It's a crazy, vicious cycle we create of piling more responsiblity on and then feeling sorry for ourselves because the list is too long.

My Christmas gift to myself this year is to keep my spirits high so the people around me can enjoy the season too. My gift to my family is not the decorations, or the presents or the trimmings and trappings. My gift to my husband and children this Christmas is a happy mom who will take the hit with a smile and a hug. Because that's what moms do, and besides...it's Christmas.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Choices

Like many parents, I find myself talking to my son a lot lately about "making good choices". Solid decision-making skills are an important tool in life and I do my best to help my son understand how his actions will impact more than just the one decision he thinks he's making. The "domino affect" of decisions we make still amazes me - it's wild the way one thing affects another, affects another, and so on.

This weekend I was reminded in multiple ways the way my decisions ripple throughout my life, my home and my family. I had a GNO (Girls Night Out) on Thursday night with a bunch of ladies at a local home. Good good, good times, good drink and lots of laughs were had. I got home around 11 which is approximately three hours past my bedtime these days. Friday night was the local Christmas Tree lighting in our town and there was yet another ladies' get-together afterward for some local women that I had been meaning to get to know.

I asked my husband what he thought about me being (gasp!) out two nights in a row. Because he too enjoys his "me time" and he's way cooler and more understanding than I am he told me to go, enjoy myself, and stop being so neurotic and guilty. I figured he was right, I mean what harm could possibly come from me being out two nights in a row for three hours each? I mean these are hours I would normally just be home sleeping or reading in bed anyway, so why would it matter...the kids won't even know I'm gone! So despite the gut feeling I had saying it wasn't the right path, I went and had myself another mommy-night-out.

Fast forward to Saturday morning after two nights of "partying" (which these days translates to three glasses of red wine). I was EXHAUSTED. I mean the kind of exhausted where I could barely move, think, function, etc. I was so tired from going to bed at almost midnight and then waking up at 5 with the baby that I was literally dragging. Everything was off schedule and it showed. The nice weekend groove we have that involves a big breakfast, grocery shopping, running errands and visiting friends was all thrown off.

I had to turn down an invitation to see another family we enjoy on Saturday night because I was too tired to cook a meal to serve them. I never went grocery shopping because I was too tired so we had to get crappy take-out from a local sub shop and it sucked. I was in bed at 7 o'clock on a Saturday night which left my husband (who HAD NOT been out two nights in a row) all alone to watch TV or surf instead of spending quality time together.

My decision had obvious and lasting affects that pretty much screwed up the entire weekend. Patrick was trying to be a good husband by telling me to go and enjoy myself, but I should have listened to my gut. I know myself, I know my body and I know that at 34 years old I just can't hang like I used to without paying a serious price. So it's true what we tell our kids about making good decisions. In fact, I think it's one of the most important skills we can impart - the little choices we make every day affect the larger outcome, and often times in ways we didn't see coming.

The older I get the more I realize the people I am drawn to are those whose decisions I respect most. The people who haven't taken the easy road just because they could, the people who go the extra mile not because there is anything in it for them, but because it is the right choice. Really when you stop to think about it, decisions we wish we had made differently are the foundation that regret is built on. Of course we're always going to have the "what-if's" surrounding a decision we wish turned out differently and few people look back on a lifetime of decisions with zero regrets. I guess the goal, as adults, is minimizing the risk, narrowing the consequences and hopefully loving the person we see in the bathroom mirror the next morning...the person who tried to do the right thing.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

A Bag of Bricks

Last week was Thanksgiving. I was coming off of a week-long business trip and trying to mentally organize the many items I needed to check the box on before leaving for a fabulous five-day holiday with my family. I was trying to squeeze a week's worth of work into two days at the office while making sure I had my Turkey Day responsibilities all lined up as far as food and family scheduling were concerned.

In the midst of all the holiday hub-bub I somehow confused an "assignment" from my son's preschool regarding fresh fruit for the needy. There was a bag sent home from school that we were apparently supposed to put fruit in for a pre-Thanksgiving celebration the kids were going to have on Tuesday before break. The name of the local charity the donations were going to was called SHARE. My 5-year old however, told me it was for "sharing" at school and they were supposed to bring in their favorite toy or something from the house for show-and-tell. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

So my son packed up his favorite Bayblade in what was supposed to be a bag full of bananas, apples and squash for the needy. Not only that, but all the other parents were there to watch their wee-ones generously pile up their gifts while my son had to stand next to the two teachers with a plastic toy in his bag. As a parent of a preschooler, this is about as bad as it gets short of forgetting your kid at school and the teacher having to drive him home.

His teacher emailed me to gently let me know that Austin had some things he had made for me at school, but in all the confusion of the SHARE celebration she didn't pack his in his bag. After about three back-and-forth emails I finally figured out where the confusion had come from and what I had done (or not done as it were). I was absolutely HOPRRIFIED with myself. How could I have been so stupid as to think there wasn't a Thanksgiving celebration at school? Why hadn't I read the weekly newsletters more carefully? Why did I listen to a 5-year old? Why did I have a full-tme job when it feels like nobody else does? Sigh. I suck.

Just as I starting to let this "bad" thing ruin the start of what was sure to be a fabulous holiday I heard the voice of a friend saying to "put it down like a bag of bricks." I have a very love/hate relationship with this expression. I feel that sometimes it can be used to absolve ourselves of responsibility for things we maybe should give a little thought to and we maybe should feel a little sorry about. I hate to be the kind of person who doesn't care what people think, but sometimes in life, you just have to let yourself off the hook.

I spent a lot of years constantly worrying about what type of woman/mother/friend/daughter people perceived me to be. I makes me feel so good to say that those days are gone (not always, and not entirely), but pretty much gone. My life is too busy and full and hectic to punish myself over the hot meal that was never cooked, or the phone call that wasn't promptly returned, or the birthday present that was only half-wrapped and didn't have a card to go with it.

So, I told my son how sorry I was for my mistake and he seemed literally unphased. I explained what I had done, and I told him I would do my best not to let it happen again - we also had a talk about the importance of giving to those less fortunate. My husband offered to read those newsletters also from now on so hopefully between the two of us we'll catch all the details of preschool life. We'll try harder but never be perfect, and not because we don't care...because sometimes the details just slip through the cracks in your brain and you have to forgive yourself.

Sometimes we all need to just put the bag of bricks down and keep walking.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The Best Part

I'm finding as time goes on and life gets more and more full that the best parts are the little pieces in between the big events. The little exchanges, conversations and experiences that happen all the time that if we're not careful, can go unnoticed. These are the best parts for me, and the things I want to focus on in my writing. Speaking of best parts - the best part of this whole blogging thing for me is the knowledge that more likely than not absolutely no one is going to read any of this. I'm literally writing for the air out there in cyber-world and wow, does that feel nice. Moving on...

I was in Chicago on business last week and flew home on Friday. I was in the security line at O'Hare at 5:30 in the morning with my carry on, ticket and laptop bag getting ready to go do the big take-off-your-shoes-and-let-me-feel-your-bra routine. The line was super long for that time of day and everyone was looking at everyone else in line trying to pretend like they weren't looking.

There were two black people (is it okay to say black people?) working a special security area off to the side for pets and cages and such. The woman was big and healthy and had a McDonald's bag in the back pocket of her security uniform like she was saving a snack for later. A thin black man walked up to her and said: "Gurl, I hear you been trippin' and I just wanna tell you that we good. I love you gurl you don't need to worry!"

To which she replied: "Ohhhh! Am I happy to see you. I been so worried, 'cause you know that ain't me! That ain't who I am and I just wanna tell you that. You know that ain't who I am."

Apparently she had said or done something that she wasn't proud of, and this man was there to tell her it was okay, and her forgave her for whatever it was that had her to worried. They hugged like crazy and he tapped her on the back as he walked away and said "Don't you worry no more now."

I got out my Blackberry and pretended to be texting while I cried a little. It was just so damn sweet. Then I noticed the staunchy business man in the aisle next to me was looking right at me while I cried and he smiled at me as if to say "I understand, I kinda want to cry too". Then the father in back of him who was traveling with his wife and two children put his arms around his kids from behind and hugged them a little close to him. He was smiling as well.

This whole exchange was so small and so beautiful and it literally took a group of people waiting in a security line at O'Hare to a different place for a minute. It took me to a different place for the rest of the day. Not everything I'll write will seem like a scene from Love Actually - just this story happens to have a very Colin Firthy vibe.