What lies ahead ...

2008 is here. I'm 38 minutes into the new year and I am here wondering what lies ahead. Each year I make resolutions. I never seem to keep them - in part because I don't always remember what I resolve and in part because what I do remember seems to ambitious for this mother of four to accomplish. As each year comes to a close, I always feel a bit sad thinking about the days gone by and all that I have not been able to do. I always feel sad that I don't readily think of all I was able to do. It seems that as each day went by I somehow did not measure up to some loftier goals I had set - whether consciously or unconsciously. And yet, as I wonder what lies ahead for 2008, I do realize that 2007 was a year defined by moments that changed my life in ways that I have yet to understand, and moments that are defined by clarity.

Lucas John was born in May. His ability to go with the flow of this crazy family with a smile and laid back attitude along with his infectious laugh reminds me of how precious time is and that maybe I need to spend less time worrying about the "flow" and more time just going with it. Matthew started kindergarten and suddenly changed from my baby to this amazing little boy. As I watch him trying to navigate his new life, I am reminded how hard it is to accept changes in life, especially when you don't have the opportunity to make a different choice. Only once did Matthew ask to stay at Happi House - the "school" he grew up in since he was 6 weeks old. Emme has embraced her creative energy and girlish ways. She spends each day trying to find her place within a household of three brothers. She accessories herself with bracelets and necklaces and I remember my Yiayia Evangeline and her love of jewelry. Emme reminds me that the past always finds a way to live on in the present. Nicholas is coming into his own as he begins to understands how his actions and his words have consequences. It is a lesson that is always difficult to learn and one which many of us seem to be taught over and over again. As I watch my children grow, engage, and love each other I wonder what lies ahead for them - in this world in which we so desperately fight for peace while we become immune to its absence.

For me, I have decided to take another stab at resolutions to help me define in part what lies ahead. So - for me - in 2008, I have decided to gain weight, become less organized, and read less, but work more. And as 2009 rolls in, I can sit here writing and be happy that I yet again, was not able to keep a resolution.

Type A magic

I don't remember if I ever felt the magic of Christmas. I'm sure at some point I did. But, in talking with my friends, in seeing how my husband and mother-in-law get so excited about everything, I question whether or not I ever believed in the magic. The kids all tracked Santa's sleigh tonight through our telescope. And as the sleigh bells rang, Matthew assured me that he saw Donner on the rooftop of our neighbor's house. I am amazed at his belief in magic. There are times that I can't tell my own kids a apart, and yet Matthew from 100 yards away can tell Donner from Blitzen. My kids believe in the magic.

For me, I think I try too hard to believe or maybe it is that I spend so much of my life believing in the practical that it is hard for me to dream of the magic. I have fond memories of Christmas. The smells of a dinner -- the sounds of lots of family and friends gathering at our house - but, I never really considered that magical. I considered that just part of the holiday. It is what you do. I have my list for Christmas. I've taken the roast out to defrost, the bread, pumpkin pie and cheesecake are all ready to go - my tablecloth is on the dining room table - lots of things crossed off the list, but nothing magical. I "do" the holidays. It is who I am. Inherent to my definition is the fact that I am the functional person. I get things done. I make the plan. I make the lists. I make sure that everyone else believes in the magic.

And yet tonight as I sit waiting for my two year old to fall asleep, I so badly want to believe in the magic. For just one day, I'd like to not be my Type A. I'd settle for being a B+ - if it meant that I could believe for even one minute. And for those of you who know me well, Type B+ would be a monumental shift in my existence. But, I don't see myself as anything but Type A.

I see the glow of the small Christmas trees that are in each child's room. They are waiting to embrace a present, but only if sleep comes soon to the kids. As I look at the lights on Nick's tree, the melding of colors reflect just enough on each boy's face so that I can see the outline of Nick's sleepy eyes and Lucas in deep sleep. The magic covers them like their blankets. Emme and Matthew are already dreaming. I sit and think.

I think of all the people who are missing someone this Christmas. I think about the chance to look in someone's eyes - even just briefly, or hear for just one stolen moment the laughter that frames a random conversation. I think about the smell of Christmas bread that my Yiayia use to bake and I wonder if mine will be as good as hers. I think about how I love sharing the bread as if with each bite love fills your soul. I think about how strong a hug can be in lifting your spirit. I think about how the sound of a voice - first words of "MaMa" - can make your heart stop. I think about how a walk or a crawl down the hallway can bring such joy, if only you stop and take a look. I think about how no one should have to be alone this Christmas when their family is nearby.

I think about how grateful I am that my mother-in-law is here, and am grateful that I did not have to schedule visits among different sets of family members so that the "perfect" Christmas was achieved. I think about how I love the photo I took before church on Sunday when all the kids were wearing Christmas outfits and how fun it'll be tomorrow when Nicky stays in his pjs all day and Emme dons her dress from her Nouna. I think about how excited Matthew will be as he opens the presents he has wanted. I think about Lucas and the awe of a first Christmas. I think about my sister whose son William arrived early but will be spending his first Christmas at home and not in the hospital. I think about two things that I was once told never to forget ... and I realize that I do believe in the magic. But for me, my Type A magic - is more about the ordinary day and those moments that we learn not to forget. It is those moments that define my magic - my Type A magic - a magic that can't be put on any list, but one in which for me, allows me to be free, even for a moment.

Do you believe in magic?

My son asked me if I believed in magic. He wanted to know if he should believe that something could exist that you may not be able to see. I knew what he was asking - he was asking if he should believe in the magic of Christmas. But, as I sit here typing I realize that maybe he was asking for more - maybe he was asking why as adults we seem so far removed from the magic of Christmas that sometimes it is hard for us to believe even what is right before our eyes.

I'm 37 years old and I'm not sure I ever believed in the magic of Christmas. My memories of Christmas are all good. I remember lots of family and friends coming for Christmas dinner. I remember the chaos of trying to figure out who would sit where and if we had enough chairs. I remember random presents - a doll, a bike, lots of nightgowns ... but nothing so monumental that it defined me. It was neither good nor bad - just a special day - that meant a lot of cooking and a lot of cleaning - but also a lot of being together. This Christmas I made the decision not tor travel anywhere. I wanted my kids to have Christmas in their own house. Wake up in their own beds - open presents under their own tree ... I wanted that moment. But when Matthew asked me about the magic - I was left wondering what would be magical about "that moment." In truth, once the Barbie Dreamhouse got on the wishlist - I knew we wouldn't be driving anywhere,

One good shot

It's Monday night and typically Mondays mean Dancing with the Stars. But after several heartbreaks with Wayne and Cheryl and Cameron and Edynna getting knocked off, the show finally ended. With many cheers echoing through our house, the kids, Brian and I watched Helio and Julianna take possession of the mirror ball trophy. But, this Monday was different. It was the first Monday in weeks that the kids and I were left with no special program to watch while Brian was teaching. I thought I had a reprieve when I saw that Charlie Brown Christmas was on - but, somehow the kids didn't want to watch it again. Despite my best efforts to get them to sit calmly and watch the show as I folded laundry, the kids were just too restless. They reminded me of an addict going through withdrawl - they knew they needed their Dancing with the Stars fix, but there was no way for them to get it. In my desperation, I tasked Matthew with finding something for them to do.

I typically don't give Matthew a task like this because he becomes too structured in his "imaginative play" - and wants things to be a certain way. Typically, when he tries to pretend play with Nicholas and Emme, it ends up in tears as no one plays how he wants them to play and they don't want to play as he wants them to play. But tonight, I needed just fifteen minutes to finish folding laundry. For whatever reason, this seemed like a luxury to me as if by some strange connection in my brain, all would be right with the world if only I could fold the last basket of laundry.

The pretend play started out beautifully. Matthew decided that he would be a conductor and we would be the chorus, singing Christmas carols. We lasted through three songs: Jingle Bells, Deck the Halls, and Hark the Herald Angels Sing - and then the frustration set in as we weren't singing the songs Matthew wanted, or weren't singing loud enough, or fast enough, or ...

And then it happened, out of frustration Matthew picked up a pair of underwear I had just folded and tossed it at Nicholas' head. Now, Nicholas, who will walk that fine line between class clown and class bully, anticipates this move as only he could and picks up one of the decorative pillows and uses it as his shield. Angered by this action, Matthew picks up another pair of underwear and aims it at Nicholas. In my own frustration, fueled mostly by the fact that I would now have to refold two pairs of underwear, I grabbed Matthew's pants just as he started to lose his balance. You see, I was folding clothes on our bed and he was standing on the bed which had symbolized the conductor's "stage". Noticing him starting to fall, I tightened my grip on his pajama pants and pulled upwards, for some reason thinking this would stop him from falling. And thus began "the attack of the wedgie woman" ....

For the next hour, my kids transformed the bedroom into a royal battle field in which the two fair princes, were trying to save the princess from the evil wedgie woman. It did not take long for us all to figure out how best to slingshot underwear across the room and at each other. It did not take me long with my competitive nature to procure Brian's underwear as my weapon of choice - being the largest pairs in the house, they could serve as both shield and weapon.
You see, all it took is one good shot to the head, and you were under the control of wedgie woman. Not wanting to accept their fate, and probably moreso accepting of their competitive gene, the boys garnered Emme's support teaching her how to sling short her Dora panties.

She's a good shot - and after Matthew talked her out of using the underwear she was currently wearing, Emme became an excellent shot - hitting her target about 95% of the time. She was so good that she realized that she had control of the game and decided that the battle would be boys against the girls. Her shot was so accurate, that Nicholas decided it was just easier to wear the underwear on his head then to avoid being hit by it. Matthew donned Brian's underwear - as more body wear - similar to that of a wrestler's uniform - for more complete protection.

Tonight was the funniest night I had in a very long time. Somewhere admist flying underwear, mind control, and wedgies, I realized the my kids and I were actually having fun in a very insane, and potentially disturbing way as pretend poop and buggers somehow became additional weapons to the sling shot underwear. I knew I should be stopping this kind of play. I knew that I should be reading to them. Hell, it isn't like I don't see the PSA every morning on Channel Disney "just 15 minutes a day is all it takes" ...

And yet all I could think about as I watched Nicholas running around with underwear on his head jumping over crumpled laundry, Matthew strategically maneuvering his underwear body shield, and Emme taking her best shot was "Man, Emme would have no problem at a Wayne Newton concert ... and so I came to the conclusion that somehow my kids had managed to get their fix ... and all it took was one good shot.