Reflections and Resolutions

It's 2015...almost and, like everyone else, I'm looking forward and looking back and trying to take stock. We've got a little tradition of writing small notes and dates on the corks of celebratory bottles of beer and wine throughout the year, and on one evening before the new year arrives, we concoct a festive beverage, dump all those corks out on the bar, and read them out to each other. It's something we saw somewhere a few years back, and it's fun.

2014 was a year of major change and new beginnings for us. After almost two years of near constant transitions and a leap of faith that took us across two states, we now feel our feet firmly planted on the ground in a place we love. It's kind of amazing how new places can steal your heart. Could be the morning mist drifting down mountains, the smell of the mud and grass, the waddle of a chubby porcupine out back, the discovery of hummingbird moths, the warmth of a sunbaked porch swing, or the dappled shade offered up by a certain tree. Doesn't matter. There's just a moment when the flow of incessant racing thought stops for a split second and your senses take over. It's intense. You feel deeply alive, and that's it. You're in love with that place and that feeling.

This is not to say there aren't days when the suck of mud on your boots or that inch of ice on your car doesn't drain your being to the core and make you want to stay inside in flannel pajamas drinking adult beverages. That happens too. Only somehow even that's more okay in the place you love. Day after day, the place you love just IS. You come to accept the mud and ice as part of the package. You buck up and grow to wear it as a badge of belonging- the kind of stuff you can laugh and bitch about with the old timers at the coffee shop (once they get over your New York transplantiness and your ridiculous Wellies).

 

Just being in the place sets the tone. My morning coffee tastes better as I peer out the kitchen windows at the giant pines in the backyard. Their trunks are gnarled and swirly with rough bark fallen away in spots and yet, they're entirely grand. I often wonder about all they've weathered over the years, and I feel a little more fortified just for knowing them (full disclosure: also often pray they don't come crashing down on our house). During moments like this, a place reaches out to you with all your weathering and crooked parts and gives some sort of celestial bear hug. It's so damn reassuring. It puts you more at ease with the flow of life, makes you sincerely happier, and maybe even lends you greater clarity. Let's hope!

So enough reflecting, on to 2015 resolutions. I'm skipping the dead-end lofty goals that are destined to become new year roadkill after a couple of weeks (days?), and focusing on the stuff I feel ready to stick with. Committing to the list this year means it's time to part ways with the daily social media fix.  It's going to require self discipline for sure. I'm a bit sad already as I know we risk losing touch again with many folks we enjoy. And we'll miss the wonderful photos, the witty commentaries, the jokes, the recommendations, and the convenient news and articles, but when I'm really honest, too often I spend too much time just surfing around without much true joy, connection, or meaning. So, the plan is to spend more of that time in the three dimensional world admiring trees, reading books, gardening, making stuff, taking walks, cooking, writing, taking photos, watching the kids grow up, having celebratory beverages, and enjoying family and friends face to face.

We'll be sharing from time to time on this blog, or you can always reach us by email or phone. I do hope many of you will connect with us once in a while and let us know how you are or come here, stay, and share the latest. Wishing you all a wonderful new year and more time with the ones you love in the places that inspire you. All the best in 2015!

too much dough, too little time, just enough tradition

I love my job. I love the holidays. That said, juggling the mom work thing isn't always all it's cracked up to be. Some years, I can pull off the family holiday traditions with ease and joy, and we all have a blast. Other years, I find myself frazzled and ragged rushing around with a "get 'er done" attitude that doesn't exactly ooze holiday magic. This year I was somewhere in between.

For example, the night before the annual Christmas cookie baking and decorating, I pulled the big basket of cookie cutters out of the pantry, gave each of the kids a giant bowl and asked them to pick out the cutters they like best. That was a first, and it worked pretty well to help me achieve a good and fair mix of their favorite cookie shapes. Then I made a huge batch of dough and left it to chill overnight. Pretty satisfying for a Friday night after work when I was mostly wanting to crash on the couch. When I eventually got there to watch some mindless TV and nod off, I was feeling like a pretty spiffy holiday momma. I had a jump on the thing, right?

Wrong. Baking the cookies took most of the next day. I felt like I might never be done rolling and cutting that giant glob of dough, but it eventually happened at around 2 PM. Whoa. In my working mom mind, this cookie thing was supposed to be a great weekend MORNING thing. You know, the kind of thing a mom can enjoy in her pajamas- mug of steamy coffee in hand, gazing adoringly at creative offspring, and musing over the possibilities for the free afternoon ahead. I had fallen victim to my usual working mom fatal error: fantasy projections of weekend time.

What happened to that great jump I had on this thing? It slipped through my fingers like sand as I eventually came to realize this was to become my whole Saturday. The kids, tired of waiting for me to get on with making the various royal icings and set up the table with sprinkles, etc., took to their sleds, peeking in every half hour to ask, "Mom, are we ready yet?" Sigh. As I rolled out the dough for the 20th tray of cookies (still in my pajamas), I experienced two epiphanies: 1. Making a giant glob of dough will not only mean having a giant mound of cookies, it will also mean a giant glob of your time and 2. Making the icings and setting up the table the night before would have been a hell of a lot more of  a "jump" on the thing. Duh. This is what comes of Friday night post-work brainstorms. Lesson learned...sorta.

When I finally got around to those icings, I was delighted to discover that our pantry contained only leftover Easter food colorings. Oh joy. It will suffice to say, one can go quietly mad trying to create festive Christmas colored icings out of such stuff. In essence, it was an ill-timed art and science lesson. When the kids got all the snow gear off and sat down for our "fun holiday tradition", I saw them eyeing the stuff quickly and explained the deal. They were great, but by the time I sat down with them, my inner voice was coaxing me to remember to refrain from profanity and muster the appropriate enthusiasm instead.

So yeah, not one of the easy, joyful years for this one. But, the cookies mostly didn't burn and tasted fine, and after putting on some holiday tunes and ignoring the messy kitchen, I looked up to appreciate the four of us sitting around the table. It was 3:45 and nobody cared that mom was in pajamas with flour in her hair. Everyone had a cookie, a paintbrush dipped in a bunch of odd Eastery Christmas goo, and a look of concentration. Soon announcements began. "Finished!" and we stopped to admire each other's work, steal each other's ideas, and giggle over silly faces on cookie gnomes and ninjas. And without me even noticing, the stress I was feeling about time and messes and food coloring began to melt away. Even with Eastery goo, we made some pretty damn festive cookies. Go, team!

 

All the perfection we see and all the pressure we feel during the holidays tends to meddle in traditions. In the thick of it, it's too easy to forget what the holidays are all about. I'll never be able to live up to the moms who get the Christmas shopping done early, the moms who get the wrapping done early, the moms who are perfectly fit and coiffed, the moms with the perfectly stocked pantries, the brilliant moms, or the moms who make it all look so easy. I'm the mom who can sometimes make some stuff look easy. The mom who can sometimes be neatly coiffed. The mom who knows some stuff worth knowing. And mostly, I'm the mom in the T-shirt, sweatshirt, flannel, or pajamas who's a little slapped together and a little disheveled, but always meaning well. For all my faults and lateness, I'm still the mom passing on the traditions my mom passed to me.

And the cookies were gobbled up. And the kids said they had fun. I eventually got out of those pajamas and into snowshoes that weekend (though I'm still not that fit). And after work the following Monday, I picked up the kids from school and they asked me if they could decorate some more cookies. I enthusiastically replied, "Of course!" (like a really together, cool mom)....because I had already placed all the plain leftover cookies in the freezer and picked up real food colorings. So, tomorrow when we do it all again, I can be the coiffed, dressed, make it all look effortless mom. Plus, I'm on vacation! So, viva tradition and cheers to moms! Eat the cookies, wear whatever, and be merry wherever you are.