What I want for Christmas.

I don't do new.  I like old furniture, old husbands and old habits.  I go out of my way to plan my spontaneity very carefully. I like to carve out a comfortable little rut for myself and stay right inside of it.  That's just how I feel most satisfied. This is especially true when it comes to my holiday celebrations.  Tradition is very important to me.  Every year I rely on the same old recipes, lean towards the same decoration placement and listen to the same Christmas music.  It gives me a sense of history and warmth knowing that each year will be a version of the same.  But last year, five days before Christmas, the rock of my life - my grandmother - passed away.  That threw a big old wrench into my holiday wheel. 

So today, for the second time in two months I find myself visiting family in Tennessee.  Very generously, my parents arranged a vacation so that our family could be all together on Christmas.  I am officially WAY outside of my comfort zone.  I'm in a new place, with new smells, new food, and most importantly....new accents. And of course, in anticipation of the visit I approached things with the restraint and sensitivity that have come to be my hallmark (bwahahaha).  My preparation for this trip consisted of making minimally fourteen jokes per day about hillbillies, banjo players and people with dental 'defficiencies'.  When we got on the plane yesterday I started singing (about four keys away from anything resembling a tune and with an intentionally exaggerated twang) the Alabama lyrics 'a tender Tennessee Christmas is the only Christmas for me....'.  Needless to say, that went over like a lead balloon with my mom. 

But now it's time to admit that it was all a ruse.  I am excited about this opportunity.  I am thrilled to see my family.  I am giddy about the potential for snow on Christmas.  I am thankful for the blessing that came from tragedy (if grandma hadn't passed away last year none of this would be possible).  So thank you Lord for knowing the plan; For making it better than anything we could imagine; And for using tough times in our lives to show us that, not only do you love us, but that Christmas means so much more than the comforts of our traditions.

Remember: If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a boring holiday. Merry Christmas to you and yours.

The Sneak

Twas the night before Christmas, when I left for the store
and heard Copper asleep on the couch, with a snore.
I placed treats out for guests, on the table with care,
I’d be gone for a few. But they should be safe there.

Perhaps I should take him? No, I’ll leave him instead.
And I’d no sooner gone, then he’d raised up his head.
Never dreamed he’d do damage before I got back.
But that nose woke him up, led him straight to the snack.

Out of reach was the tray, but that didn’t matter.
He sprang from the couch and it caused quite a clatter.
His leap was too great. That pup slid like a flash.
Skidded ‘cross the table. Hit the plate; what a crash.

The carpet now covered with new-fallen treats
Made it easy for Copper to get at the eats.
When, what to his wondering eyes should appear,
But a platter of caramel foil covered reindeer.

With a little old trick, and a scamper up quick,
Those reindeer were gone in as much as a lick.
Yet more goodies waited. Some were found on the shelf.
He devoured them. It’s Christmas. Why not help himself?

"Now Hershey! now, Reeses! now, Nestle and See’s!
Candy canes! Nut clusters…anything please!
From friends’ kitchens or stores that are found in the mall
Now eat ‘em up, eat ‘em up, eat ‘em up all!

As dry heaves came and went, with wild eyes he did spy,
that yummies were sitting up high in the sky.
Though forty pounds heavy, it seemed that he flew,
to the top of the bookshelf, quite nimbly too.

And there red and green M&Ms in a bowl
became some of the next type of sweet that he stole.
He swallowed them quickly. With a hop turned around.
And from six feet up down he came with a bound.

His coat was still clean, from his head to his foot,
But his muzzle, from chocolate, looked covered with soot.
And the scene was left clean. Not one mess did he make.
Nor was there trace evidence left in his wake.

His eyes were glazed over, in near coma from candy.
At times he acts dense but those smarts come in handy!
He had a sweet face and a stout little belly
That dragged when he walked. And boy was he smelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
A sharp, impish dog who was proud of himself!
Familiar sounds came, raised his ears on his head.
As I pulled in the drive, he was soon filled with dread.

A last glance at the scene, oh so proud of his work,
While I came through the door, pushed it closed with a jerk.
He sprang to couch, laid his head on a pillow,
and fooled me. I praised him, that crafty ole fellow.

When I peered through the house I was fooled by his ploy,
"Aww, he’s still asleep. Why he’s such a good boy.”
My hands filled with bags, off to put them away.
Then I paused…didn’t I leave some treats on that tray?

Just as good as football

Five years ago when I found out that I was pregnant I was secretly (ok, ok...outwardly) hoping for a boy.  I would have been a great mom to a boy.  I love sports, mud, farting and general grossness.  I do not like flowers, sparkles, princesses or anything pink.  So, suffice it to say, I was a little worried when I found out I was having a girl.  However, the one thing that made me look forward to having a baby girl was the thought of putting her into ballet.  Ballet was a huge part of my childhood.  I don't ever remember NOT being in ballet.  I grew up at the studio and loved every single minute of it, including the blisters and the calf cramps.  Ballet defined me.  It gave me purpose and I am thankful every day that my mom got me started when I was two.  And I have to admit that discovering that we were having a girl made me more than a little excited at the prospect of having another ballerina in the family.  It would be something that we could share and enjoy together. 

Well, I got my wish.  My daughter is a full fledged dance junkie.  I find myself reliving my memories through her and I love it.  From the moment I walked her into the studio and was hit with the fond smell of broken in leather and hair spray I have been nothing but thrilled to see my childhood through her eyes as she is now establishing many of the same memories for herself. 

And tonight marks a milestone in our combined experience.  Tonight we will walk through the backstage doors for her first ever Nutcracker performance.  I spent many, many, MANY hours on a Nutcracker stage (six performances a year for sixteen years..although, I have to admit that it kind of scarred me for a while.  You know those stories that you hear about war vets who freak out when they hear the sound of helicopters?  It's reminiscent of that).  Tonight I will be on the flip side of things.  Tonight I get to play hair and makeup mistress to my daughter.  Tonight I get to wait backstage and watch her perform her heart out.  Tonight I get to give her a flower as she takes her bow.  After all the years of being the one in the spotlight, tonight I will have the honor of waiting in the wings and watching my little girl shine.....pink, sparkles, and all.  Good luck princess.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

If I had to choose, I would say that my favorite activity of the Christmas season is unwrapping all of the ornaments in preparation for decorating the trees. (Yes, I said trees...8 of them to be exact...sigh).  There is something nostalgic about unwrapping the carefully packed pieces.  Something about gently unfolding the tissue paper that has cradled a special ornament for the past year evokes the excitement and anticipation that I felt as a child unwrapping a gift.  And as each ornament is revealed, so is a memory.  Perhaps I am overly sentimental but I have very dear memories about most of my ornaments.  Some are old, some are new.  Some are handmade, some are store bought.  But, they all hold a very special place in my heart. 

There are many nominees for favorite.  My 'NOEL' balls  remind me of Aunt Mildred and Uncle Jim (they were always in place, front and center on their tree).  I have several ceramic pieces that were cast and painted by my super talented Aunt Nettie.  Many an ornament comes from my dancing days and are 'Nutcracker' themed.  Then we have my silver ornaments (given to me over years and years by everyone in the family).  And, of course, my Lenox ornaments (each and every one from Grandma....those are even more special now).  But if I had to choose one....just one....as my very favorite, it would be the porcelain bell with Santa kneeling and praying before the baby Jesus. 

This ornament reigns as favorite year after year for several reasons.  First, because it was an ornament that I inherited from Grandma.  Second, because it was given to her by her closest friend Janet.  But most of all it is my favorite because I believe that is a fabulous and succinct display of how we should celebrate this incredible holiday season.  As cliche as it has come to sound, Jesus is the reason for the season.  And I am a Christian who celebrates as such.  And, in addition (not substitution) my daughter has been raised to believe in the magic that is Santa Claus.  I don't see why being a Christian must be mutually exclusive with Santa Claus.  It's all about keeping things in perspective and in their proper place.  How does leaving out some cookies threaten a belief in the Saviour?  Why does a visit to the man in red minimize the babe in the manger?  If your faith is threatened by the whimsy and fantasy of the north pole, then you have a much more serious issue to deal with than ole St. Nick.  Is Jesus what is most important at Christmas time?  Absolutely.  So to that end we read the Christmas story from our Bible each night of December and my daughter's favorite Christmas carol is 'Joy to the World'.  But we also get a visit from Santa at our party every year and we leave out cookies (good ones, too) for Santa and carrots for the Reindeer each Christmas Eve.  And, if ever I feel my perspective getting a bit out of whack I take a stroll over to my tree and I gaze upon the man in red kneeling before the Lord.