My Christmas letter - a tribute

I thought about sending one...but I didn't. I sent a pic to show everyone the boys I am so infatuated with and to give a glimpse into our lives. I couldn't bring myself to put words down on paper. I think it has something to do with my grandparents being gone. Ethan asks so many questions about them...where is Me-Ma and when is she coming back. Is she with God? Can we visit her? Is Pe-Pa with her? I try and explain simply but allow him to believe as I do. Jason only knew Pe-Pa and he sometimes identifies Pe-Pa's chair or room. I miss them so much and think back to Christmas times growing up and what an incredible part they were. I can't cook or bake without seeing her image and hearing her voice encouraging me. I can't sit in the kitchen and kibitz without wondering what she would be laughing about. And I can't deal a hand of poker without mentally dealing her in. I remember how he waited for us at the bus stop and how he took us shopping, unwrapped every ornament carefully and so enjoyed hanging them on the tree. He loved Thanksgiving and all the flurry of activity ...even though he never said much. His eyes laughed and his hands were always so strong. He would love a Manhattan poured in a rocks glass and we would beg for the cherries...always half and half rye and vermouth. I remember his sweaters and his beer and hat when he rode the lawn mower. I can't wrap my head around why they are so in my thoughts lately. But it seems to flow since all I can think about is family.

It is so inspiring to watch my Mom start celebrating life and the holidays again. Her entire life was wrapped up in taking care of them and us. With them gone, I think she lost her focus for a while. A tree is now garnishing her home again and I could have sworn I saw strings of lights hanging. I know she missed Grandpa lovingly musing over her decorations but this year she had 4 sticky hands that were equally awe inspired. I hope it is enough. I wish I could help make baking fun for her but it seems she has a hole there that I can't fill. She lost her best friend and her mother. I am just a daughter and it isn't always enough.




I've been watching the news lately. This is always a bad thing for me. I get profoundly impacted by any new items about family tragedies and this week there were 4. To lose a child is a pain I can't fathom and when I think about it, my stomach aches and I get choked up with a total sense of panic and loss. I pray to God he has a calling for these children and their parents that is stronger and more important than what they had here on Earth. I pray for the survivors to have the strength I doubt I would be able to muster. And I hope they find a shred of happiness in the world again. I just couldn't bring myself to write about how great our jobs are or how much we love this or that when these families were being shattered around me. Two brothers lost their lives in a tragic accident. When I was leaving daycare the day after, there was a photo of the youngest with his Dad on the door. He had been a student there. I still can't get that happy image of the two of them out of my head and the total dread out of my heart for that poor family.

So what does this have to do with Christmas or Ethan? I am saying prayers everyday to protect him. I am finding more patience to deal with him and our hard days because I have learned to be so incredibly grateful for having my children and the opportunity to be a parent. I cherish them and kiss them twice as much, hold on to their smell, trace their fingers, listen for all of their words, wipe away their tears. I hold on to this incredible hope that the biggest tragedy they will ever know is the past loss of their great grandparents after an incredible life, or that they think a shooting star is how their beloved horse made it to heaven.

Although saddened by all of this, I am going to celebrate every day, give of myself all year, count every single one of my many blessings and remember that there is an order in the universe that I just don't understand. Otherwise, if I can't hold on to that, I am going to refer to my Facebook post....I will never leave home with them and will become the largest consumer of bubble wrap. I don't know if anyone would consider that a celebration worthy of this life.

Jasonisms

So this morning I was cleaning up from breakfast and noticed Jason doing something I would prefer he not do. Me: "Jason, what are you doing?" And he replied, "Picking my nose" very matter of factly. Then, I had to go farther. "Why are you doing that? It's yucky", I said. He quickly responded, "There are buggies up there and they are yucky too."

Getting dressed in the morning we sometimes sit on the dryer while I put on his socks and shoes. After we are done, he wants to jump off into my arms. He calls it the "big dump".

Meals are still fun with Jason insisting on "big ones" or "top on" or "I want lots of them". We are now dealing with the fact that he screams orders at me instead of asking for things politely. I'll let you know when that starts working out in my favor.

Picking Jason up from preschool is one of the highlights of the day. You can't be glum when a child sees you from across the school or playground and drops everything to come running while yelling "Mommy!" and arms are outstretched so he can jump into yours.

Tonight I was putting him to bed and we laid together for a bit talking and cuddling. "Hold me tight, Mommy", he says. Then he wanted butterfly kisses on both cheekbones, right below his eyes. He smiles so brightly and makes me do both sides, just like Ethan used to. He tries to do it back to me as well and then puckers for kisses. He begs me to lay to hold his hand and I tell him I love him to the moon and back.

Then, it was time to leave and put him in his toddler bed/crib. I put some Christmas music on for them (classics for JT and the Chipmunks for Ethan) and leave. A few minutes later, Jason was hysterical. I run back up the stairs and ask him what's wrong. "Dinosaurs" he gulps out in between sobs. "Did you see some?" I ask. "You don't SEE them, Mommy...you hear them. And I heard their footsteps." Okay, so now I am somehow the idiot who didn't know you can't see dinosaurs? Or is it even worse and I ate too many brownies this evening and now my footsteps sound like a dinosaur?

I did my part and pretended to usher our the dinosaurs since the previous night when he awaoe, I tried the "there are no such things as dinosaurs" approach which went over like a ton of bricks. Tonight, I chastized them for making too much noise under Jason's bed and told them that they needed to go outside and play. I did cave in and told them all that they could sleep in the garage. I'm such a softie.