Our Alamo

Growing up in Texas, I was taught the battle cry “Remember the Alamo” early.  Texans take their state’s history very personally.  In learning the story of the historical slaughter, I accepted my own tiny corner of the state’s painful memory.  The package also contained a piece of the indignant rage, shameful pride, and even a desire to make good on the promises of the past to ensure that those lives were not lost in vain. 

Today, my Facebook news feed is flooded with a more modern battle cry of sorts, “I remember.” 

I wish I didn’t.

Of course I remember.  How could any of us forget the day we heard the news?  How could anyone forget the waves of confusion and disbelief?  How will any of us ever forget the panic that sent us to the pumps, preparing to flee if necessary? 

I’d rather not carry the memory of the missing faces papering the tall city we all knew.  I’d love to forget the days of mourning, silent moments broken only by tolling bells.  Families broken forever.  Bodies.  Wreckage.  Tears.

Televisions on round the clock coverage.  Flood lamps illuminating Ground Zero like day.  Workers covered in soot and ash.  Empty fire houses.  Another building falls and the work begins all over again.

I remember sitting in a wooden pew on a Sunday in September, searching for peace and comfort in the words of a pastor.  I knew we all were searching together.  We wept together, sharing fear and sadness.

A year later, before the memory grew stale and quiet, I found myself standing beside a truck with my husband and his brothers in uniform.  Above us, red, white and blue waved in the ocean air, atop an extended ladder.  The dancers gave me a rose, a hug and a kiss on the cheek, despite my protests. 

The next year, I sat with those men in a dark room.  For days, they watched marathons of documentaries.  They had read the reports.  They knew the story like the back of their hands, and they relived it with faith and dedication.

With each year that passes, the memory retreats a little.  But all we have to do is call its name and it appears again, filling our mind and heart with months we would rather never to have lived.

Last year, I taught this story to children who did not remember.  In doing so, I passed them their own little piece of our pain.  Those children, the ones that do not remember, will inherit this shared memory just as we inherited the memory of the Alamo, Pearl Harbor, or The War Between the States.  They will carry this story in their hearts without ever completely knowing it. 

Sadly, though, their day will come.  One day, they will live through their own September 11th.  Their own Alamo.  Only on that day will they begin to understand. 

Then they will learn what it means to remember, no matter how much you wish you could forget.

Valentine’s Day Dilemma

I’m late.  What else is new?

I received my first heart-shaped box of chocolate of the season yesterday morning at about 9 AM.  I ate the four yummy little confections enclosed inside by about 9:05. 

I’ve written about this holiday before.  But, this week, Girl Talk Thursday is all about the big V Day.  So, here I go…

I really am a romantic at heart.  It isn’t that I’m a cynic or cold-hearted.  However, I believe that Valentine’s Day places undue stress on many relationships: budding, struggling, and even just busy.  Not to mention the alienation of the entire world of singles….it’s like the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve and they’re left without anyone to kiss – except it lasts all…day…long.  A full twenty……four……hours………..of awkwardness.

This holiday forces people to lump their relationships into silos and give gifts that are suitable to the status of their bonds.  As I’ve mentioned before, I fear rejection desperately.  In this, I know I am not alone.  For those young and “it’s complicated” relationships, Valentine’s Day builds up even more hype and tension surrounding those electrical impulses that silently, invisibly dart through the air between our limbic lobes.  And that hype and tension does nothing but congest the airways, making it difficult for emotion to navigate.

I will say, with certainty, that I love to watch little people practice the show of affection this time of year.  There is a lesson integrated within this day of romance and emotion.  I love to see their faces light up with pride, excitement and anticipation as they thrust at you their folded, stickered, commercial valentine with your name chicken-scratched onto the outside.  I smile and oooooh and aaaaaah and hug them as though they’ve just presented me with a priceless diamond ring.  Sometimes, they blush.  Sometimes, they tentatively and oh-so-slightly step in closer as I read the silly message, eagerly awaiting my squeeze and squeals.  This is my favorite part of the annual Valentine’s Day season.  It is so good and pure I can’t help but grow more than a little sentimental.

I also have lovely visions in my future mind of little gray couples sitting sweetly at a breakfast table, sipping coffee and reading.  Their movements much slower in this decade of their love story, one gingerly hands the other a card.   It’s just a simple card, but the words inside tell a story that brings a smile to their faces.  Their hearts are still the same young, frisky hearts that stood before the world and said “I do”.  The same scared, hopeful hearts that kissed the soft little round head of an itty-bitty baby.  The same proud, bittersweet hearts that stood together and clapped for their young graduate.  Those two lovers, who now routinely remind each other of appointments and dietary guidelines and when to take their pills and what year they met, know Valentine’s Day as a sweet gift.

So, I guess in sum, I find Valentine’s Day is best for the very young and the very old.  All the rest of us just need to take more care to live more lovingly everyday. 

It’s simple.

My dear friend, Cher, wrote a New Year’s post yesterday.  She was inspired by this post to choose One Little Word as a theme, if you will, for her 2010.  I think that’s a fabulous way to avoid the dissolution of resolutions while still setting a goal.

So, here I go. 

I want to focus on what is important: family, friends, health, and home. 

I want to target my work as a mother, a wife, and a teacher.

I want to make choices that bring peace into my home.  I want to give myself, my children, and my husband the gift of time, and I want to spend it, not money, to make us happy.  I want to sit by the fire with cocoa and cookies more often.  I want to dig in the dirt together.  I want to party in our PJs.  I want to take walks and ride bikes and blow bubbles and color.  I want to smile at the sun and enjoy a cool, ocean breeze.

For the past week, ever since we’ve returned from our Hillbilly Holiday, my girlies and I have been a bit reclusive…and we’ve loved every minute of it.  I’ve cooked and crafted and sewn.  We’ve read and colored and played games.  I’ve worn yoga pants, a bare face, and a ponytail for days at a time.  It’s been marvelous.

In 2010, I’m not going to try to keep up with the Joneses – or, for that matter, the Millers, the Popes or the even the Nguyens.  I will search for contentment with where I am in life. 

I also want to CLEAN OUT.  How much stuff does a person REALLY need?? I’m a sentimental kind of gal, so this can be hard for me…but I’d like to try traveling light for a while. 

I will surround myself with things and people that make me happy. 

I want to simplify my life. 

My word for 2010 is SIMPLIFY.

What is your word?

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly of 2009

I cannot remember feeling like this before.  Ever.  

I cannot wait for 2009 to be over.

Always before, New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day meant very little to me.  It was just another day.  A new calendar.  A new picture looking back at me from my wall.  Another hash mark.  Another year older – which was neither here, nor there to me.

This year is different.  2009 just feels sour. 

In January 2009, my life was filled with highs and lows.  My marriage was strained with tension while my professional life was demanding, yet successful.  Over the course of this year, those highs and lows have traded places time and time again.  Finances have been like a roller coaster, and the truth has hurt.  I have shed many tears this year.

Yet, to put things in perspective, I really can’t complain.  I’m coming out on the other side still in a warm home, in a stronger, happier marriage, and still the mother of two bright, talented, and beautiful daughters.  Really, I have lost very little this year. 

Surprisingly, when I try to put my finger on the single greatest gift 2009 has brought to my home this year, I have to say the newest addition to my little family, our dog Daisy, definitely takes the prize.  She brought youth back to my Big Boy, Bo.  She makes my girlies and I so happy, and has been a wonderful playmate to us all.  I am so thankful for her.

Coming in a close second, the remodel of our front and back yards.  We’ve already reaped the benefit of the time, effort, and dollars FireDaddy & I invested into our back yard, in particular, at least five times over.  Both of us agree that watching the girlies run, laugh, sit, read, play, jump, chase, swing and otherwise revel in their childhood out back is one of our favorite pastimes.  They’ve camped, picnicked, splashed, dug, bubbled, chalked, planted, and meandered to their heart’s content.  It is truly a simple thing we treasure.

Unfortunately, 2009 is leaving me 10-15 pounds heavier than it found me.  Lately, my own reflection has been a bit gruesome – my hair needs cutting (and coloring), my 30-something acne has returned (destined to be a seasonal burden), and my new muffin-top makes my wardrobe more than a little less than flattering (or comfortable).  All of the above leave me unhappy with myself, in more than one way.  I’m disappointed that I have done this to myself – again.  I’m overwhelmed by the hard work that stands between “this me” and “the me I want to be” – again.  And, as my girlies are growing older and becoming increasingly more aware of their Mommy’s struggles, I’m disappointed that I’m setting such a poor example for them.  Pretty much, I suck. 

I still don’t place too much stock in New Year’s Resolutions and other such short-lived delusions.  But, everyone needs a kick in the rear at times, yes?  Everyone needs a new beginning – if even just a symbolic one.  Everyone deserves a second chance…or a third chance…or a thirty-third chance.

So there, 2009.  Be gone with you.  Don’t let the door hit you in the rear, bitch.

Serendipity Struck

Snapfish and I go way back.  I’ve used them for birthday party invitations, photo calendars, bound photo books, mouse pads and more.  This year, though, they may have burned this bridge.

After compiling a photo mosaic of BigGirl and BabyGirl in Picasa and adding text, I sent it to be printed (via Snapfish) at a local store (so I could pick it up that day…yes, I need immediate gratification).  I was incredibly disappointed to find that the text on my prints was partially cut off the print!  As you can imagine, this just would not do as a holiday card. 

However, I’m the wimp who doesn’t like to deal with stuff like that…unless otherwise provoked.  So, what did I do?  I made an all new (and improved) photo mosaic with one whole square in the print devoted to the holiday message, rather than overlaying the text on top of the pictures.  And, I marched my bootie into Target and insta-printed it myself.  (So long, Snapfish.)

Now…what to do with the botched prints I still have?

Don’t you just love those momentary, fleeting strokes of genius that occur in life?  I just LOVE what I’ve done with these suckers!  Check it out…

 

They are GIFT TAGS!!!  I’ve been using a permanent marker to write a quick note to the recipient on the back, and sign the whole family’s name!  I couldn’t be any happier with this idea!  In years past, trying to write everyone’s name on a little gift tag always seemed irrationally frustrating to me.  And, I love the opportunity to include a little personal note, since many of our family will receive their gifts without us present.  PLUS, if they care to keep it, they get a bonus picture as part of their gift!  I just LOVE this idea!

By the way, insert a little Green plug here, you may notice in the picture that I like to use gift bags whenever possible.  This is not entirely out of laziness.  I save gift bags and regift & reuse them for all occasions.  I keep tons of white tissue paper on hand at all times (it goes with all bags) and often purchase the plain cheap bags and decorate them myself with stickers and fun bows (especially for birthday parties, when I’m only wrapping one present at a time). 

Oh, and if you’re wondering about my NEW photo cards.  I love them, too.  This is one of those “it was meant to be” moments in life, because the second card is one hundred times better.  See for yourself…

 

And, finally, some of you may remember that my girlies and I handmade cards earlier in the year and might be wondering what happened to those cards.  Well, they went out, too!  I know how much people LOVE photo cards (myself included), but I really miss the magic of opening a card and reading a note inside.  So these were inserts in our homemade Christmas cards, and everyone received a personal note inside the card.

Here’s a smattering of our cards, prior to stamping and, in some cases, stickering.  You’ll notice the styles and level of artistry varies greatly from card to card.  I stamped each one with a “Handmade by…” stamp and wrote in “BigGirl” or “BabyGirl” and their age.

And with that, dear friends, I do believe I shall head back to my duties.  Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and my sewing machine is sick again…which is really putting a crimp on THIS branch of Santa’s Workshop.  I came within inches of buying a new machine at Walmart today just to make it through the next few days….and trying to return it after Christmas. 

Don’t worry.  I didn’t. 

Yet.

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig

We made it home safely last night from our Hillbilly Holiday.  Today, the girlies and I have done virtually nothing other than bask in the comfort of home, only venturing out to retrieve our loving and faithful pets from their “camp” and make a quick stop for Christmas card photos. 

I promised my girlies an afternoon treat of cocoa and cookies.  Today’s snack was made better by a special holiday serenade from Michael Buble.   Later, we spent more than an hour gathered around the kitchen table, catching up on our advent coloring pages.  (My hand has yet to fully recover from The Crayola Grip.) 

My suitcase still lies in the floor of my office, waiting for me to properly unpack the clean shirts, socks, pants, and sweaters.  Laundry from our journey, now washed, dried, and folded neatly, patiently awaits my attention.  My guest bedroom remains a pile of projects to complete and gifts to prepare.  My refrigerator and cupboards are nearly bare and I’ve no specific plans yet for holiday baking or special eats. 

Today, the girlies focused their energy today on reuniting with their toys and various belongings.  BabyGirl slept for hours this evening curled up in a chair like a kitten.  I chatted with My Mama, FireDaddy’s Mama, and my girlies.  I cuddled my puppies and kissed my babies.  I talked with friends and gave thanks for our safe return. 

My Blackberry is filled with notes on thoughts from my journey I’d like to share with you….but today is not the day, friends. 

I am so glad to be home again.

It’s Safe to Share These With You

The handmade holiday is in full swing this weekend. I’ve checked a few folks off my list and I couldn’t be happier with the finished products! 

On Friday, I finished off a rousing game of Secret Santa at school with a handmade monogram tote.  I knew my coworker’s favorite color was yellow, so I chose this cheery ribbon and fabric to embellish this handy white canvas tote bag. (A girl can never have too many tote bags, right?  And who doesn’t love monogrammed items?)  I love the tailored bow, and the white stitching along the edges of the ribbon compliments the medallions on the fabric nicely. 

In preparation for our Kentucky trip, I made a larger, roomier tote bag for FireDaddy’s sister.  This one also features a pocket on the outside, for easily accessing keys, cell phone, and other small items.  (FireDaddy’s sister has a one year old baby, so I expect she often has her hands full and is still toting around diaper bag items, sippy cups, and more.)   The monogram is made from an adorable fabric that is actually rows of brightly colored pears and apples.  So fun!  I finished this bag off with a ribbon tie closure that matches the ribbon trim along the straps.  (I think I’m going to need one of these for myself.)

And, quite possibly my favorite projects so far, are my toddler t-shirts for our 12-month old niece. I am just in love with them!  I cannot wait to make some for my own girlies.  Two of the t-shirts were inspired by children’s rhymes: “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep” and “Rain, Rain, Go Away”.  I used a girlie striped fabric to monogram the third shirt, using a lowercase “b” instead of a capital to continue with the childhood theme.  Each t-shirt is finished off with a little satin bow.  Aren’t they just the sweetest things? 

My kitchen sweat shop is just buzzing away with more gift items.  I will take a break for our Hillbilly Holiday, but I’ll have it back up and running as soon as we get back into town.  There’s still so much more to do!

 

Psst!  I’m so bad – I’m not supposed to tell you this, but I can’t keep a secret.  Keep your eye on Etsy in January.  A little birdie told me a new store called Jenny Cricket will be opening.  I’m sure their stuff will be SUPER cute! :)  If you have any special requests or suggestions, let me know and I’ll tell the birdie. 

What In the Name of Hee-Haw Junction Was I Thinking???

FireDaddy and I have planned a Hillbilly Holiday trip.

What was I thinking?

The current plan is to shove off from Point A immediately after school on Tuesday of next week. We will drive to Atlanta and crash with some friends for the night before it’s on the road again in the morning to complete the long journey to the back hills of Kentucky.

And when I say “back hills”, I mean it.

No internet. No mall. The nearest Walmart is more than 30 minutes away – and you practically need a compass to find your way. Cracker Barrel is known as a “Big City Store”.

The last time I visited Kentucky (which was also my first) I realized near the end of the trip that I had not eaten fruit the entire time we were in Kentucky.

It is like travelling back in time.

Now, I need to clarify – these people are the sweetest, kindest, most loving people on the face of God’s great planet. They love, love, love you all like family – even before you’re family. On that trip, my girlies and I met for the first time FireDaddy’s eldest aunt (who still lives in the same house in which she was born – the home that did not have indoor plumbing until FireDaddy’s Daddy was grown, in the Army, and PAID for the plumbing to be installed in his Mammaw’s home), and she sent them both home with two 15-inch collectible dolls from her den just because. They just do that kind of stuff. FireDaddy’s uncle routinely takes him out to the shed, or hat closet, or wherever he keeps his crazy stash – and gives him a new Kentucky Wildcats hat every time he sees him. Every meal, when you visit, is like a feast, complete with pies and cakes and gravy and all the fixin’s. These people love my husband, they love my babies, and they love me. And, for that, I am immensely grateful and touched.

However, when we get right down to it – I AM A CITY GIRL. I am spoiled. And, to top it all off, I am a FLORIDA city girl. I don’t do cold very well at all. I’ve had trouble dressing my darling girlies this year on the few “cold” days we’ve had (high in 50s) so far – much less clothing them for a week of wet, cloudy days with temps in the 40s and 30s! So, that’s one panic…

Another is, OH. MY. GOSH! This is happening NEXT WEEK, PEOPLE!!! NEXT WEEK!!!!

My mind is racing with all the things I need to do before then – and only have one weekend left to accomplish. Things like:

1. Tear my house apart looking for the portable DVD player (which I haven’t seen since the summer months) that will prevent FireDaddy and I from strapping our girlies to the roof of our car all the way between Georgia and Kentucky.

2. Purchase and pack a week’s worth of chocolate pop-tarts, gummy snacks, apples, Wheat Thins, Diet Dr. Pepper, CapriSuns, Oreos, and other “survival basics” for the car ride (and sneaky snacks while we’ve there).

3. Refill every prescription known to man – Ibuprofen 800, Prozac Weekly, Prozac daily, muscle relaxers, and anything else you may be able to suggest - that will help me survive being trapped in a Pacifica with FireDaddy and my babies for like a gajillion miles. FireDaddy and BabyGirl don’t always see eye to eye…especially in the car.

4. Sew and wrap presents for the family we’re going to see there….because, have I mentioned? I’m doing a handmade Christmas this year…(i.e. more evidence supporting my claims to insanity)

5. Print photos to insert in my Christmas cards so I can mail them before we high-tail it off for a week.

6. Find a loving, temporary home for my two darling four-legged children….because if they were going too, I might elect to stay home.

7. Get those same darling four-legged children groomed so their winter camp counselors, whomever they wind up being, don’t think I’m a neglectful mother.

8. Wash the twenty-five loads of laundry that has accumulated in the last week at my house.

9. Find an adorable dress suitable for LittleGirl to wear to school all day and straight into her holiday program TOMORROW NIGHT.

10. Continue to plan for and survive the remaining 5 days of the 2009 school year, including (but not limited to) writing detailed sub plans for the last day of school prior to the holiday break (for which, I will not be present), feed my family, and generally go about my life as expected by the world around me.

11. Fight off this sinus infection that is threatening to attack me any moment.

12. Continue to work towards producing and packaging the other handmade gifts I’ve planned for my friends, family and my daughters’ teachers.

What was I thinking?

Scratch that. I know what I was thinking.

I was thinking that these people - this family - are important to FireDaddy and our girlies and I. These are people that aren’t getting any younger or healthier as time wears on, to say the least. These are people that are worth the hassle and heartache that accompanies traveling long distances in a car with short people. These people are part of my daughters’ heritage, whether they understand this or not, and they need to know them. They need to know where they came from. And so does FireDaddy. And so do I.

In the long run, these are small prices to pay for the memories that will be made.

Perhaps I should focus on the feeling that overwhelmed my whole being the moment I stepped foot in that 1920-something home that Auntie and Uncle have owned since their own youth. The feeling that brought tears to my eyes so boldly that I could not stop them from falling down my cheeks. The feeling that instantly, gently, amazingly carried my soul hundreds of miles away to a little home in Louisiana where my own family member had lived. The feeling that said “home”, even though it was all new to me.

Perhaps I should focus on the pictures of babies frozen in time. And brides blushing beside their grooms. And Olan Mills portraits of wrinkled eyes and smiles. The creak in the floorboards. The slow, soft sound of tired feet shuffling to the kitchen to set the morning pot to brew. The cheery yellow wall hangings in a tiny, tiny kitchen. The kitchen stove that doesn’t know the meaning of a day off.

Perhaps I will focus on these.

Oh, what a happy holiday it will be.

Photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/auvet/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

O’ Christmas Tree, O’ Christmas Tree

The tree is finally up.  Whew.

While this is definitely the most cumbersome of all decorating chores, it is also one of the most sentimental.  Ornaments on our tree, like many of yours, tell the tale of who we are and where we’ve been. 

There are faces on our tree.  Lots of little smiling faces.  Every year, we watch the faces grow older.

 

 

Ornaments mark milestones in our family’s story.  Our first Christmas together and my babies’ first Christmases. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some ornaments were handmade by family, friends, and even a few former students.

Of course, there are lots of firefighters and fire trucks, too.

Many ornaments came directly from the childhood trees of Little Girl Mommy and Little Boy FireDaddy.

Some of my newest favorites are more playful in spirit, reflecting my love of the beach and water.

Our ornaments represent our heritage,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the contents of our hearts,  

 and the child inside each of us.

 

And that sounds just about right to me.  Isn’t that what Christmas is all about?

 

 

 

Christmas for My Girlies

Christmas, if you ask me, is best seen through the eyes of a child.  I love watching my little girlies experience the magic.  So, naturally, some of my most favorite Christmas decorations are the ones centered around my babies.

One of the earliest traditions began as a gift from a secret Santa [My brother and sister-in-law].  Before BabyGirl was with us, a box containing this advent house appeared unexpectedly on our front porch.  This beautiful house brings so much excitement to our family throughout the entire month of December.  Every night, we open a door and discover the treasure is hiding inside.  Hair bows, bath fizzies, candies, “grow me” pets, coin purses, stamps, stickers, play dough and more.  As BabyGirl has grown and taken a more active role in holidays, they take turns opening doors each night.  BigGirl opens all the odds, BabyGirl opens the evens.  Some doors contain items to be shared, while others hold something for each of them.  In years past, some treats have been a little larger than these little doors can handle.  In those cases, our little elf has been known to leave clues guiding the way to their daily dose of Christmas cheer.

 

Last year, we welcomed a brand new tradition to our home:  Elway, the Elf on the Shelf.  Elway and his friends have become quite the rage all over the land of Christmas, it seems…but that doesn’t make him any less special to us.  I laughed this year as BabyGirl said to me, “Mommy. He watching me.  I don’t want him watching me.”  (Guilty conscience, my dear??) This year, it was apparent that Elway brought the house with him on his long trek from the North Pole.  And…he brought with him another mysterious box…with no return address.

 

 

Elway also brought with him this adorable pink tree.   We found the perfect home for it on the tea table in the girlies’ room.  We’ve begun slowly decorating it with knick-knacks and homemade ornaments.  And (more evidence that the Big Man from the North had something to do with all this Christmas goodness), two consecutive doors in the advent house revealed supplies to make angel ornaments!  Who else would have known but the Big Man himself? 

 

There are also child-sized, unbreakable versions of Christmas favorites throughout my house.  I fell in love with this children’s nativity set (seen here as arranged by BigGirl) from Bombay Kids, (R.I.P. Bombay Company & Bombay Kids. You are missed...)

 

 

 

 

 

 

… and this stuffed Hallmark Christmas tree with buttons for hanging felt ornament sets.  (The ornament sets came with little board books telling holiday stories, too!  Even better!) 

 

  And, this year, our traditions have even been enhanced by the blogosphere!  Thanks to Elsie Marley, the girlies and I are making advent coloring books, one day at a time.  Well, BigGirl wants to compile her art into a collection.  BabyGirl wants to hang hers on the wall over her bed.  (I think I’m going to hang a string and clip them, a la clothesline, as we go.)  It’s amazing how much fun it has been…just simple paper and crayons!  And, it’s free!

 

In the words of Maria from The Sound of Music, “These are a few of my favorite things.”

What are some of your favorite children’s Christmas traditions?

Crackin’ Open a Can of Christmas

The sun hadn’t even set on Thanksgiving Day and my “so-called friends” were posting pictures of their Christmas trees on Facebook, making me feel like a slacker.

Then, I went and hurt myself, somehow, and was incapacitated for a day and a half, in a house freshly cleaned from top to bottom in preparation for decorations.

Then, BigGirl woke up with a raging 104.4 fever, and another day was sidetracked.

Gosh darn it, I became hell-bent on putting out some flippin’ red and green already!!! In a typical neurotic fit, I began unloading the Rubbermaid tubs in the garage patiently awaiting my attention. One by one, we smiled at the pillows and cutsies and greeted them like old friends who’d come to visit. “Awww, I remember that…” BigGirl would say.

“Mommy, it’s not Christmas yet. I don’t want you to make dat,” BabyGirl chimed in.

As I, once again, found homes, some new and some the same, for all these familiar faces, I realized how many stories I pull out of the attic every year. (Well, more accurately, FireDaddy pulls them out of the attic…I pull them out of the tubs.)

Like the “crystal” candy dish my little old next door neighbor gave to us the year we were married, Mrs. Russell. I can see her face and remember the worry we had for her when she was hospitalized for a month or so. I remember her purple God awful reflecting ball she kept in her little courtyard by her front door, and her excitement as she called us over to look at her century plant in bloom. I never would have chosen this for myself, but it reminds me of friendship.

I have this crazy, random blue metal basket with Santa on it. Every year I pull it out and wonder exactly what I will do with it and where I will put it. But I don’t have the heart to give it away. It was given to me by a sweet, sweet friend I taught with in a past life. She was as country as country gets. And she would give you the shirt off her back, and the diesel dually she rode in on. The basket was filled with sausage (from their own pigs, I believe), corn bread, and bean soup mix. I miss her.

There’s the toy soldier my mother made, in her toll painting days. He’s so handsome. I have a thing for toy soldiers, I think. You know, being a man in uniform and all. I remember sitting in our kitchen watching her paint these projects. I was impressed with how easy she made it look, and how cool it was that water worked like an eraser when used correctly. I was thrilled when she said I could have it – for the girls, of course.

I love my green table runner with little red birds appliquéd on it. It’s cheery and looks semi-homemade. (Sometimes illusions are a good thing.) I love all the fabrics that come out of my tubs. Pillows, dolls, animals, stockings, napkins, runners, and more. Fabric has such a warming, inviting effect on a room. And what house doesn’t need a little more warmth in it for the holidays?

I love my basket of Christmas books, a second generation tradition. Since my girlies were so small when I started collecting, we have board books and everything beyond. As they mature and grow, so will this special collection. And, I’ll save the board books for friends’ babies and cousins and nieces and nephews and, one day, grandbabies. I love that it was the first item I pulled out of the garage. I presented it to BigGirl like her first gift of the season – and she received it as such. Both girlies immediately plunged into the basket of treasures, promptly browsing one after another after another. Quietly. Enjoying.

All of these stories and memories and thoughts fumble and bumble around my head like blind little mice. And we haven’t even touched the five (or more) tubs of ornaments yet. That’s another post entirely…

I love Christmas. I love that, like many things, no two are exactly alike. I love that with every little tchotchke I put out every year, I am surrounding myself with memories and faces. I love that decorating your home for Christmas each year is an act of creating. Creating memories. Creating a mood. Creating a backdrop for time spent with people you love.

Christmas is coming. Just you wait.

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Psst! Did you hear? Barking Mad is having a Crazy Christmas Giveaway! A $300 TARGET GIFT CARD!!! You know how I feel about Target, y'all...Anyhow, here's her link and all that jazz - go check it out!

A Season of Giving

 

 

That is my all time favorite church song.  As an adult, I attended a particular church for a while mostly because they sang this song every Sunday at the end of the service.  And, I loved the pastor.  He was like a loving grandfather, welcoming everyone into his humble home.  Even heathens like me. :)

December first marks, for many, the beginning of the holiday season.  The season of giving.  But, sadly, I truly believe that this “season of giving” has become much more of a “season of shopping, stressing, and spending”.  I’m trying so hard this year, as I watch my daughters grow, and pray they don’t get jaded to that “giving” part, to focus on the spirit and heart of the season. 

Hell.  When I think of it that way, who needs a season? 

I want my girls to be givers.  I want them to be filled with hearts overflowing with love for their family, friends, and fellow humans.  I want them to care about the world and the people and the air, the water, the trees, the wind, the clouds in the sky, and butterflies and puppies and apples.  I do not want them to wander lonely through this world with clear vision only as far as the end of their own nose.  I do not want them to view their beliefs, their thoughts, their needs as supreme and righteous, but rather, as one of many valid perspectives. 

Not only do I want them to love and care for others, but I want them to love and care for themselves.  I want more for them than I have been able to give to myself.  I see them through mother’s eyes: eyes that see clearly every fault and every virtue – and love them just the way that they are.  They’re perfect, even their imperfections. 

Over and over and over again I’ve preached to BigGirl, “All I expect is that you do the best you can do,” so much that she now cuts me off and finishes the sentence with that annoyed tone we’ve all used with our mothers.  The one that sounds like the teachers and parents on Charlie Brown.  The one that says, “Would you stop saying that already?”  But it’s true.  I expect her to do her best at everything.  Everything.  Not just school work and dance, but friendship.  Sisterhood. Being a daughter and a dog owner.  Being a citizen of the Earth. 

I have a friend who told me once that when her daughters were young she told them, “When you lie to me, I can see crosses in the back of your eyes.”  She also said, “Even when Mommy and Daddy can’t see you, God is always watching.”  (No offense, folks…but see what I mean about being Catholic?) 

I want them to carry God, Buddha, the Golden Rule, karma, whatever it is they decide to believe in one day, in their hearts always.  I want them to be proud of their every decision – or at least 99% of them.  I want them to sleep well at night knowing they gave to the world.  They made a difference in someone’s life each day.

I read this article today that discussed the importance of giving.  It’s important in ways you may not have suspected.  I’d like to try this project, and I would love it if you would join me. 

Give a “gift” everyday for a month.

Mind you, “gifts” aren’t always tied in pretty paper and ribbons.  A gift, says the article, could be simply saving the last piece of cake for your husband.  Or, perhaps you go out of your way to make your children their favorite meal one night.  Perhaps you give your change to a neighbor’s or friend’s child.  Perhaps you volunteer your time in a classroom – helping someone other than your own child.  Maybe you bring your co-worker coffee unexpectedly one day.  The bottom line is – do something thoughtful and nice for someone without expecting anything in return, other than perhaps a smile and a “thank you”.

I’m going to try it.  I hope you will too.

Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin with me.

Weekend in the Kitchen

Having spent virtually my entire long weekend in the kitchen, I have little to share other than the history of a meal.  As I was slaving away over a hot stove, though, I fell in love with capturing the beauty of a working kitchen.  Really, the colors and textures of food and kitchen prep are quite unique. 

I thought I’d share with you a smidgeon of my photo journal from this weekend (because I’m sure you dying to see, right?). Some photos mark beginnings of the meal – dressing that begins with chopping vegetables, pies that are born from raw crusts, the baby white fluff of marshmallows before they’ve been baked to a golden brown.  There are photos of the process. Mushrooms sizzling in a pan for the homemade mushroom gravy in the Best Ever Green Bean Casserole.  Roasted pecans (the second batch – I got distracted and forgot about batch number one…fed them to le garbaage) for the sweet potato casserole.  Wild rice for My Mama’s Dressing steeping on the stove next to the cooling iron skillet in which my sweet corn bread baked.  And, finally, the reward.  There are many more, of course, but I chose not to include faces in this collection. You may insert your own, if you wish.

Oh, yes.  And, if you look closely, you’ll figure out my “oops” that happened on the day of our family meal…and have an idea for a Christmas present for yours truly. 

 

 

I hope you all had a fabulous Thanksgiving weekend.  ‘Tis the season for dishpan hands. :)

Things that make me happy

I started a Thanksgiving Day post yesterday. It was filled with sarcasm, but it made me laugh.

Today, I went around my house snapping photos of things that make me happy. My new decorating rule: Surround yourself with things that make you happy. Happiness is completely irrational sometimes. Often, I can’t explain why something makes me happy, but I also can’t deny it. Like this summer when I found a pair of hotpads I just couldn’t resist. They made me happy.


This handmade bundle of flowers makes me happy. It sits on my desk, always in my line of sight as I look towards my monitor. It’s actually a combination of two Mother’s Day projects from BigGirl’s preschool days…and it’s a little worse for the wear (to say the least). But, when I look at it, I remember the day she presented these little gifts and I smile. She was so little.


Diet Dr. Pepper makes me happy. It’s sweet, cool, refreshing. I love it. Drinking it in my favorite cup (not seen here) on ice is a special treat I enjoy on “stay at home days”. Yummy. I know this isn’t exactly decorating, but it often graces an end table, bedside table, or counter in my home.



I love these blue and white canisters and pots. I’ve collected a lot of blue and white over the years. Why? Because it makes me happy. The two larger ones shown here came from my grandmother’s house. I love the combination of the three together, even though they are not intended to be displayed this way.






I love this little ceramic dog. One of my students gave it to me a few years ago for Christmas. She gave it to me because she and I both had a dog by the same name…a detail I had forgotten. Apparently, that was pretty special to her. The dog makes me smile. I look at it and think of her smiling up at me. This little doggie lives on my breakfast bar where I can see it everyday.






I love this little corner of my dresser. The lamp is nothing special, just an old Target purchase. But, the flowers are cheery and were a gift from My Mama. The crystal figure belonged to My Daddy’s Mama. You can’t really tell what it is, other than a person. It is a flower frog, intended to be used in the center of a crystal platter. However, I like looking at it on my dresser each morning as I dig for that favorite pair of underwear or bra.





I love this man. He’s a Greek fisherman. A few summers ago, I rescued him from a broken frame, buried deep within a closet at my grandmother’s house. (She’s very generous.) When I look at him, I wonder about his story. I would love to sit with him and hear his tales of the ocean and how he met his wife. I’d love to visit his home and enjoy a meal of fresh seafood that was prepared in his kitchen. I would take lots of pictures and they would be lovely. Like something from a movie.





Books make me happy. As “tech savvy” as I’d like to think I am, I cannot get into the thought of a Kindle. I love books. I love pages. I love book covers. I love books in stacks, in baskets, on shelves, in corners, on tables, everywhere. I love books. They make me happy.






I love this birdie. Pier 1. Love it. Wish I had bought more.








I love handing things down to my girlies. This little music box used to be mine. It was a gift from FireDaddy. He gave it to me as part of a birthday present the first year we were dating. It’s sweet, but it’s sweeter knowing it’s theirs now.







I love making things for my girlies. This is a Kitty Bank I made for BabyGirl. She wanted a Bunny Bank like the one her uncle gifted to her big sister, but I had no plans to return to Boston anytime soon to hunt down that cutie-patootie little toy shop in Harvard Square. So, I improvised…and spent an afternoon with BigGirl at the paint your own pottery place. It turned out OK, and BabyGirl absolutely adores it. She’s just like Sissy.








I love walking into a quiet room of the house and finding this. Having girls who love reading – and writing - is like a dream come true.



These are the little things that slowly, with time and love, turn a house into a home.

What makes your house a place you love to be?


UPDATED 12/1/09: Woo-hoo! Barking Mad is giving away a $300 Target Gift Card! (You know I need it!) Go see for yourself and get your bloggy all linked up, too!