Twas the day before Christmas...

Merry Christmas Eve!

Mia is down for a nap and the house is quiet. V and I just had a big brunch and we're getting ready to go visit some friends who just flew in this morning. I'm feeling the spirit of the holiday. I may have to have some spirits of another sort this evening at dinner with my family because Mia is nursing a little bug and has been battling a fever for a few days. She's being a trooper though. We're excited to give her a few gifts tomorrow. Hopefully her new little treasures will make her feel better.

And a few more....

A few of my favorites...

One of my dearest friends is a stellar photographer (www.rachelolsenphotography.com). I was busy scanning away today and I thought I'd scan in some prints of photos that she took a few months ago. It's amazing what a gifted photographer can do with a simple image; she can make it extraordinary. When I was looking through the many shots she took of us that beautiful fall day, she captured what I feel in my heart. She captured the beauty I see in V and Mia. She caught the details of how we interact. I feel like my photos never truly catch what I just saw. I have taken a few that do and they are some of my most treasured possessions. With her photos though, the moment is so apparent, in every shot. A huge thank you to her for taking that day and making it relivable.

Magical Moments

We did it. We had the big Santa Claus visit, several weeks ago actually. As you can see from the photo, Mia was a bit perplexed as to why we weren't going on this super fun sleigh ride with her. As we were waiting our turn, she waved shyly at Santa and I swear she smoothed her dress, as if to point out that she was wearing the cutest outfit man has seen. All of the commotion and action was enough to keep her in a great mood. When we put her in Santa's lap, she was pretty good for a few seconds, even photogenic if I do say so myself. The camera woman was apparently not paying any attention to my kid and the fat guy in red because she waited to snap the photo. And waited. And waited. Finally, Mia figured it out and then the gal snapped. Oh well. If Mia had been picture perfect in a Santa photo, it would simply mark her as weird. The fact that she is crying allows her to be just like the masses of other crying babies on Santa laps in malls across the country.

I told Santa that he takes a great photo. That expression that you see on his face didn't leave his face, even in between kids. A bit spooky to be honest. I couldn't help but wonder who he was. What his family was like. If he was a nice guy. He was just so disguised that it was hard to really connect to him. As I was putting Mia on his lap, I grabbed his hand and held if for a minute as I told Mia all about how nice he was. It felt weird to be a part of this big charade. Here I was telling her that this man was more than mortal, he was magical. He had flying reindeer and he was never sad. He was good all of the time and never got angry or frustrated. He was kind and sweet to everyone equally. I kind of bought into the magic though. Wouldn't it be lovely if he existed?

Reliving this fun holiday moment through this picture puts me in a better mood. I woke up feeling a bit stressed and overwhelmed by the merriment of the season. All of the money being thrown around, the crowds, the feeling of being unprepared (even though I don't really have too much else to do), and the sense that another year is almost ending put me in a funk for a bit. It just takes removing all of the expectation out of the scene to feel content again. After a few hours of being a pill to anyone and everyone in my path, I realized that my bad mood was stemming from nothing really. Arriving home after work to little Mia and my cozy home made it all just disappear. THIS is what the season is about - warm and comfortable moments with loved ones. I wish you all many of those moments these next two weeks. If you begin feeling a bit like I did this morning, just remember what the season means to a kid - the magic that happens when someone is kind and good.

Who is who?

When my mom pulled out a baby photo of mine and compared it to one of Mia's, I was a bit shocked. See a bit of a resemblance? I then dug up an old photo of V. I can see so much of him in Mia too.

We can tweak and dye and tweeze and diet. We can rouge and bronze and shave and bleach. We cannot however change what is at our very core, our DNA. I find comfort in that. Even when I'm bemoaning a random spider vein or that damn bump on my nose, I have to say, I like that they are meant to be there. Those flaws are a part of a bigger picture, a picture worth a thousand words.

Siren

Thank God Saturday was a beautiful crisp day. The sun was out and the sky was clear. I marveled at the gorgeous weather as I hurried out of Whole Foods, dragging the cart behind me with one arm as Mia sat perched on the opposite hip. (That's the way we roll these days. Mia claims that the cart seat is only for babies...not for the likes of a gifted 13 month old such as herself.) When we arrived at the car, I thought my arms were going to snap in two. I was panting to Mia that we were lucky to have made it back without me dropping her mid parking lot and letting the cart go flying. (Who knew this parenting business was so physically grueling?) I buckled Mia into her seat and gave her my car keys so that she could amuse herself while I pulled out the last bag from the cart. Mistake number 1. I moved from the car door and it slipped behind my leg, closing. Mistake number 2. I turned to Mia, staring at me through the window, and began moving in what felt like slow motion. I grabbed for the handle just as she clicked the lock button on my keys...and waved sweetly to me through the glass. Mistake number 3. Just to make it quite clear to me that, yes, I was locked out, she clicked the lock button repeatedly. I stood outside with my hands to the glass staring helplessly at my baby, my purse, and my cell phone, all of which were inside the car. A symphony of clicking sounds (Mia locking the door over and over again with my keys) only drove the point home that I had just, indeed, made a huge huge mistake.

I stopped the closest person and asked to use her cell phone. I tried V at home. No answer. I tried V on his cell. No answer. Meanwhile Mia was calmly pressing the lock button and watching me pace with a complete stranger standing beside me. I called a lock smith and was told that it might take a bit while someone was paged to come rescue me. Fine, I thought. It's a nice day. It should only be a few minutes. Elsie, who had since introduced herself to me, stared at Mia with me through the window. Just then Mia thought it would be appropriate to reach for the only unsafe thing to reach for, a plastic bag. She reached into the shopping bag and found an unused produce bag on top. Panic ripped through me...then Elsie. We called 911. No more than 90 seconds passed before we heard the roar of sirens screaming up the street. They maneuvered their huge rig into the already crowded parking lot and arrived to jimmy my door open. I did a little bit of back street directing while this team of four guys desended upon the car. They moved this big wire in and tried unlocking the door with it. I stood and said things like, "No. Up. You missed it. Again. Move it right. Yup. No. You're wrong. Sir, he's wrong. Does he know to move it the other way?" Bless their fire stopping hearts for putting up with me. I offered them several boxes of Panatonne as a reward from my shopping bag but they respectfully declined, telling me they were just doing their job. Nic guys. Truly.

Lesson learned.

Happy Birthday Ottilia!

Ottilia is one! And walking! Happy birthday to her! I think Mia felt left out of all of the cheering for O walking because she then took three steps, the most she's ever taken. I think we are a ways off before Mia really takes to this walking business but she did so well! Mia had a ball at the party and successfully stayed up way past her bedtime. We were proud. She and Ottilia are beginning to play a little bit together. It will be fun to watch them grow up. They are lucky to have a same age playmate built right into the family.

IN

Mia is still enjoying sitting IN anything that she can. She has discovered that if she pulls all of the books out of the bookshelf, she can sit IN it. Same thing with the toy boxes. The newest "IN" spot to hang out is the bathroom sink. I usually sit her on the counter while I brush her teeth. She prefers to nestle into the sink though while we clean. Who am I to argue?

Try as she might, she cannot fit into Bijou's bowls though. She does however love to feed Bijou one piece of food at a time. It's a win win situation. Mia is busy and happy and Bijou feels loved and catered to.

Isles of View

Mia was pulling books off of the bookshelf this evening and two fell square in my lap. A small gold colored compilation of poetry my dad gave me in June of 94, for my high school graduation. He wrote, "Meg, there is always an end and a beginning - listen to your heart. Seek adventure, wisdom, laughter, love and grace. Know always that we love you. Dad and Mom." The second book to land in my fingertips, literally, was a pretty little book titled, "These are the gifts I'd like to give to you." Dad wrote, "Christmas 2002...With all the pent up love in my heart, I bid you the top of the morning - every morning! Love Dad and Mom"

Having the books be pulled to me by Mia left me smiling, like my dad was saying a little hello, in his own special way. It was a moment that made me feel short of breath. It was like two little packages falling from my bookshelf to open. Perhaps my most favorite gift this year...and it isn't even Christmas yet.

Thank you Dad.

Girl of the North Country

Last week I was yanked from a deep sleep by my alarm. When the music came pouring over my down comforter, I jumped up, turned it off, and crawled back to bed, willing myself back to sleep in order to finish what my subconscious had started.

The dream started with V and I arriving at an old mansion somewhere. It had a huge stone fireplace and really beautiful hardwood floors. Low and behold, Bob Dylan was sitting by the fire strumming his guitar. He wasn't just singing any song. He was singing Girl of the North Country - a song that makes me feel really really alive. It makes me feel mournful of those I lost and full of hope at the same time. That's what I mean when I say 'alive' - intensely sad yet happy too. Dylan was young and smooth - both his voice and his skin. I remember marveling in my dream at how young he was, just a boy really. V had no interaction with him at all; he just led me by my hand across the room and we sat. Dylan kind of faded into the backdrop of the dream. I found a video on You Tube of a performance of Dylan's from 1964. This was how he appeared in my dream, singing this song. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3Qhwemir1Ag
This is where things got a bit stranger. My high school physics teacher then appeared and sat across from us. He, unlike Dylan, had aged tremendously from when I knew him. The man I knew, a boy really, was before me in my dream as a much older man. Again, V had no interaction with him. I took notice, like I had of Dylan, but then he too faded into the background, bleeding into the pleading harmonica solo. My alarm rudely and abruptly ripped me from this most intense scene. I never did find out how my physics teacher knew Dylan. Had I introduced them? Why were they in the mansion? Had V asked Dylan to play that song? For me?

After turning off my alarm, I dared to reenter the mansion. I huddled deeper into my down comforter, rubbing my legs together as if I were a genie thumbing the lip of my lantern, wanting to be admitted back to this kooky wonderland one more time. I did get back into the lovely old home, but I was conscious now, and I knew it. I made Dylan look up at me and I smiled at my physics teacher, making him walk toward me. I was now controlling the scene and it had lost all the flavor. I sadly pulled the covers back and got out of bed.

So that was that. Just a strange and funny little moment in my brain that I wanted to jot down. I need to create more time to write, even if it is simply capturing my nothing moments, even my nothing subconscious moments. They add up to something much deeper and bigger than we all know. They add up to who we are.