Setting Free the Tree, A Christmas Eve Poem With Cursing

If you were here

Helping me untangle

You could curse the man who

Wound the twinkle lights so tightly
'round this little tree

Weaving in and out of branches
Winding, binding, each light tied off
Just so,
The wire knotted tightly

I'm not kidding knotted

Plug it in and
Light will not escape this little tree
It is bound forever to green wires and tiny glass bulbs.
My hands hurt from trying to free it.

You could curse the man who
Wound the lights so tightly,
With such precision and determination but I
Am his daughter.

So curse him for me.

(Um, love you, Dad. xoxo)

Hibernating

(My voice sounds like I have a pack-a-day cigarette habit. It's the cold.)

Mark flew back to Arkansas on Monday, after his father's funeral last Saturday. His plan was to drive back here early this morning, around 4:00. It's a 16 hour drive from Hot Springs, but this snow storm would have made it twice as long, so he's waiting to hear more about what the roads are like early tomorrow morning. Or maybe Monday. Tuesday? :(

After congratulating myself for not catching the cold that Mark caught on the plane last week, I seem to have a bad *head* cold. To me, that means that my head feels big and heavy and clogged up. Sniff, cough cough.

We are officially snowed in. Couldn't get out if we wanted to, four-wheel-drive or no four-wheel-drive. We live off of a long gravel road, which is not state-maintained. I have no idea when we will be able to get out of here. Mark's mom's house is about three miles away, so, if we had to, we could hike on over there.

Stuck at home with a cold is not bad at all. We still have electricity. Yay! That means coffee, hot chocolate, baking gingerbread, watching movies, dragging trees and ornaments up from the basement to decorate. (Finally.) I have the makings for oyster stew and a bottle of champagne is chilling in the 'fridge, for when Mark arrives. I have presents to wrap and twinkle lights to untangle. I have a bowl of clementines and a box of Puffs aloe tissues; a bottle of brandy -- for the gingerbread, I mean -- and lots of blankets fresh from the dryer; Stayman apples, my favorite, and a video of Little Women. I'll pull out my Christmassy books, to ignite my lazy-ass Christmas spirit.

Susan Branch, Gladys Taber, Tasha Tudor, all of the Little Women, Sarah Ban Breathnach

Hector is snoring on his dog bed, tired from his exuberant romp in the snow. Jesse and Owen have been playing "Timesplitters 2" on the gamecube. Meredith has been doing laundry, and just came up the basement stairs with a load, which she said she intended to bury herself in. Ahh. Fresh, warm laundry smell.

It's a much-needed peaceful interlude here. Not bad at all. Peace to all of you. And some fresh, warm laundry, too. Ho ho ho.

xoxo

Gift of Owen

Owen's friends coerce him into playing soccer.

In the past week, we have recovered from Thanksgiving, Jesse has been to run in the Footlocker Races in Charlotte (and run well!), we celebrated Mark's and Owen's birthdays early -- before Mark had to return to Hot Springs on Sunday -- had Owen's Basement Gaming Gang over and, today, celebrate Owen's real birthday. He, of course, is sleeping after a night of WoW, and probably won't rise until late this afternoon. Or ... we could all troop in with Hector and sing him an early morning Happy Birthday song!

The Stinkeye.

As usual, Owen's birthday requests leave me a bit bemused. He asked for a copy of Sun Tzu's "The Art of War" and one of Miyamoto Misashi's "The Book of Five Rings", as well as some wooden Bokken practice swords. As a surprise, I ordered him a DVD of "Dieppe", because, last week, watching a Britography of Lord Mountbatten's life and military career simply cracked him up. He got no end of enjoyment out of hearing about "Mountbatten Pink", as well as how Mountbatten's flotilla of ships ran into trouble again and again, because of his rash decisions. Signaling jokes to the other ships at night got them spotted by the Germans and bombed. They went in for repairs and returned to sea -- to find themselves in a German minefield. The documentary was not flattering, to say the least, and Owen got a real kick out of it. A recent exchange with Jesse went something like this:

Jesse: "Is that chocolate on your arm?"

Owen, after licking arm: "No, it's a scab."

Jesse: "A scab? It's brown."

Owen: "No, it's pink. Mountbatten Pink."

He drives me crazy, he keeps me laughing -- he's such a wiseass. She says, proudly. :)

Just ... stuff.

Is she shopping? Playing paintball? "Give me all your groceries!"

Well, Hector thinks it's a good time for a game of fetch-the-tennis-ball, and walks around with a dingy, yellow ball in his mouth, looking up at each one of us hopefully.

It's dark and raining outside.

Jesse and Owen have plonked down on couches to watch Judge Judy and eat sandwiches. It was a Basement Gang afternoon, when their friends come over to game in the basement. We picked up a copy of the new Mario Brothers game for the Wii, Madison brought pizzas, Sean and Brandon and Crawford all came, and they all had a fun afternoon. No Sydnors. :( Maybe next week. Wait. That's Thanksgiving, isn't it?

Meredith is walking around in her pink flannel Nick and Nora's. She'll probably change soon, as Joseph is coming later.

Yesterday morning, I posted a quote on facebook. I had read a story about a young guy from Richmond, who was working as a coffee shop manager when he began having episodes of numbness on one side. This past July, his doctor sent him to a neurologist and after tests and biopsies, he was diagnosed with an inoperable stage 4 brain tumor. The quote I posted from Colin's story was: "People get so stressed and it's all downhill from there. Look at the bright side. It sucks, but you might as well make the best out of it."

Because. It's a brain tumor. And they can't operate. And he has chosen to enjoy his life. Because, you know, if you are into complaining, a BRAIN TUMOR beats all other complaints hands down. (With the possible exception of ALS, which my father-in-law -- also Not a Complainer -- lives with.)

It just made me think about how we live in a culture of complainers, each of us laying down our sad stories and tales of woe. Try to go for a day without complaining. Huh. We draw energy from others' sympathy, and it's impossible for some of us to give up that energy. We become stuck, making no changes, working overtime to elicit more sympathy.

Anyway. I don't want to get into all of that again -- complaining about the complainers. Colin's blog is inspiring. It's full of what life with cancer and cancer treatments and their side effects is like for him, but there is no self-pity, no wallowing. It's exciting that, through the efforts of some of his friends, he has a wish coming true soon. He'll be able to visit the set of "Lost", in Hawaii. Or maybe he's just come back from his trip. I need to go check his blog for updates.

Yesterday, after turning this *complaining* subject over, and holding it up to the light, and examining my feelings about chronic complaining, I left the house to take Jesse to guitar and track. I was sitting in the almost-dark parking lot at the high school, when Meredith called me. She was still at work, at Hanover Academy, where she is an art teacher, and works in the after-school program. Her voice was shaky, and she was having trouble putting words together into sentences. She told me that she "felt funny" and her hand and side of her face were numb. She was in the office, trying to find aspirin. She kept trying to say "pain reliever", but couldn't, and it scared her. I told her to go back to the gym and get the gym teacher (one of the only staff members still there) to call the rescue squad, and Jesse and I would be right there. She walked back to the gym, but said the kids and teacher had moved to the kindergarten classroom. But "kindergarten" came out as "ginder ... ginder ...". She couldn't say the word.

When Jesse and I got there, a rescue squad vehicle was out front, and a paramedic was with Meredith. She said that it sounded like a TIA -- a mini-stroke -- to her, and that Meredith needed to see a doctor. The ambulance arrived and took Meredith to the hospital. I took Jesse home, called Grandma Sylvia, rooted through Meredith's file cabinet for her insurance information, and headed for the hospital. When I got there, Charity and Joseph were already there and said that Mer had been taken for a CAT scan.

A few hours later, Meredith was released with a referral to a neurologist. We've seen neurologists before, gone through tests and MRIs and hospital stays several years ago, when she was having simple-partial seizures, but she hasn't had an episode in seven years. And she said that this experience was different. What a day for me to have found Colin's blog. I tried not to let that mess with my head.

So, that's the latest. This morning, we had to be in court to testify in a case where Meredith's credit card was stolen and her account cleaned out this past February. There's more to THAT story, as some of you know.

She came through the last 24 hours doing pretty well. Glad to have the court case over with, glad that she had the option to carry her health insurance from her job at World Market with her when she quit working there, glad to put on pajamas and have a peaceful evening at home, with Joseph coming a bit later.

We'll deal with the neurologist stuff next week. We'll figure out how to get her car home from the parking lot at work. Mark talked to her on the phone last night, and he really wanted to be here. He's driving home Saturday and will be home for a week. Meredith told him that we were looking through recipes to find good things to prepare for Thanksgiving. It's fun to fix food when Mark is home. :)

So, the day is winding down. It's comfortable, the lamps are lit against the darkness. (Heh heh -- I just threw that in because it sounded so corny. Hey! Jesse! Go turn on that lamp!) This afternoon, I won two tickets to any upcoming Virginia Opera performance by posting a story -- just a paragraph -- to their fan page about how three-year-old Meredith used to sing "Musetta's Waltz" while she fingerpainted. When I was notified that I won, I yelled upstairs, "I'M A WIENER!" And Meredith yelled back down, "That's AWESOME!"

All is well.

Soft, still, quiet, happy

Centered.

This is a wonderful quote from Sandra Dodd, by way of Alexandra. (Thanks, Alex.)

"Here's what your children need you to do, and what all our children need us to do. Pay attention to your children the way you wish your sister and sister in law and cousin and neighbor would pay attention to theirs. Do for your child what you wish had been done for you. Indignation doesn't make a person soft or thoughtful. It just makes a person indignant, and pissed off, and self-righteous, and absent.

You can't be with your child while the inside of you is railing at
Nestle or Disney or Japanese fishermen or the Spanish Inquisition.

Of course things aren't always wonderful. Rather than becoming one of
the things that's not wonderful, be a wonderful thing. Be a soft, still, quiet, happy attentive mother.

We can't fix all the lives in the world. If we're not careful we can
screw up our own and our families'.

Each moment you have a choice between better and worse, warm and cold,
focused or scattered."

Sandra Dodd

Here is a link for ordering Sandra's book.

Mindful Parenting Thought for the Day and Assignment

This is less a blogpost, than it is a Thought for the Day. :)

I was corresponding with a friend, and it got me to thinking about the idea that, as parents, we are often the mirror that reflects our child's image back to him or her Self. It seems like a good idea to take a minute and think about what we are reflecting back to them:

How do I want my children to see themselves? As flawed and damaged and in need of "fixing" and medicating OR as whole and perfect and loved and capable of exploring life and the world? Reflect the latter back to them, show them the pleasure you take in their company, and watch how they respond, and unfold/blossom. It's just beautiful.

How would my life change if I felt whole and perfect and loved and capable? Don't I want that life for my child?


So, today, try biting your tongue about the dirty socks left on the floor, or the gobs of toothpaste around the bathroom sink, every niggling little criticism and reminder and complaint -- squelch them before you open your mouth. Notice only the positive things about your child, and reflect those things back to him or her. Take joy in your child today. See what it does for your relationship.

Tomorrow: Repeat. :)

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast ...

Today is a day for s-l-o-w-t-i-m-e, for steeping in the feeling of being home on a beautiful fall day, with no plans and no obligations. There are six pounds of Granny Smith apples in the bowl on the counter, waiting to be peeled and made into an enormous apple crisp, and I'll manage to get them all peeled, but there is no rush. Today there is no rush to do anything. So come hang out and take a nap on the couch in the sunny bay window or in the hammock on the porch. Have a bowl of soup or a cup of coffee, or give in to Hector's pleading eyes and take him for walk on the leaf-covered trail.

Mark flew in from Arkansas Thursday evening, and we've had a hectic schedule since then. It's been nice, but busybusybusy. Friday, Mark and the boys blew leaves and cleaned gutters and moved summer furniture up from the field to the front porch. The boys and I made a run to Party City and Kentucky Fried Chicken for, you know, a bucket. Any guesses as to Jesse's costume choice?

Saturday Mark took Jesse to the Harvest Run in Ashland, where Jesse won the 5k. After the race, they came straight to the ALS Walk in Bryan Park. The day was blustery and rainy, but the showers paused long enough for the walk, which was lovely. Mark's sister, Valerie, and her kids, Aaron and Morgan, were down from Pennsylvania for the walk, and we kidnapped Aaron, then came home to get costumes ready for the Halloween party at Dave and Samantha's. Meredith and Joseph, both dressed in kilts, stopped in after a morning at the Celtic Festival, to watch me boil up a batch of Karo syrup blood. Too pink? Too blue? To runny? Ahh, just right!

Joseph had, thoughtfully, borrowed his brother's black assassin's coat for Owen to wear to the party. He threw in his own ammo belt, and Mark provided black steel-toed boots and too many knives to count. If you hear lots of clanking and stomping, you probably have plenty of time to get away before Owen the Assassin shows up.

Charity arrived, and she and Meredith spent some time getting pretty, before sweeping back out with Joseph and piling into Charity's car for a trip to North Carolina for a friend's birthday party. The boys and I spent some time coming up with a spur-of-the-moment costume for Aaron, which ended up involving a pink Snuggi, candy cigarettes, and a large magazine photo of a baby's head. Yeah, don't ask. It was creepy, I assure you. The boys had already decided that Mark's yardwork outfit, a red sweatshirt under blue overalls, needed only a red cap to turn Mark into Mario, and I wore my flannel PJs and carried a teddy bear, adding a gruesome Karo syrup-slashed throat to transform me into the First Victim at the sleepover in a slasher movie. I was suitably gruesome, AND got to go to a party wearing flannel pajamas, most comfortable party outfit ever!

Dave and Samantha's Halloween Party was amazing, and deserves a post of its own. Madison was there, taking plenty of photos, so, with his permission, I'll post some soon.

But today is a good day to recover from the rush, to read a favorite book, fix another pot of coffee, listen to my favorite fall music, Bach's cello suites, and to enjoy our family all being here, before Mark has to go back to Arkansas Tuesday morning. It will be a month before he's home again, so taking some time to appreciate his being here, to fix him an apple crisp and homemade chicken soup and to throw an extra afghan over him as he naps on the couch, feels special.

S-l-o-w-t-i-m-e and centering down restores us. Tomorrow and the rush and the fun and the plans and obligations will come around soon enough.

Clear a space and take some time to just be.