Christmas.
It’s coming.
And I feel compelled to break the silence on this blog to share a few thoughts. Jill Savaage had a great post this morning on simplifying the holiday season, and I wholeheartedly agree.
All around me, women have that glazed expression that will only get worse as the holidays get nearer and they get more and more exhausted. Because, as women, we are the Keepers of the Christmas Magic. We tuck children into bed and our real work begins—making the holiday special for everyone around us.
I believe this is a noble task. I also believe we can make things simpler for ourselves by adjusting our expectations. I’ve written about this before, but each year I remember the days I spent in the hospital on bedrest while expecting the twins—from the day before Thanksgiving until the day after New Year’s. The entire holiday season was spent in and out of active labor, and you know what? It didn’t matter that I didn’t send a single Christmas card, put out a single decoration, or purchase a single Christmas gift. All that mattered to me was that my little family was safe and together. Truly.
The rest of it? It’s optional.
Let that free you, my friend. Do you dread sending Christmas cards? Don’t. Find another way to keep in touch with faraway friends. Hate buying so many presents? Ask people if they still want to exchange gifts. In this economic climate, people are happy to cross someone off of their gift list.
And the most important piece of advice I can give you, mother-of-young-children-I’m-talking-to-you: keep your kids’ expectations reasonable. Don’t go overboard. Young children enjoy gifts more when there are fewer of them. If your kids are older, it may be hard to backtrack; but if they’re little, resist the urge to overindulge them. You will thank me when they’re thirteen and don’t expect Santa to show up with a thousand dollars worth of goods.
So, without further ado, here’s my personal Holiday Survival Guide, in no particular order:
Make a master list for gifts. Include everyone you buy a gift for—teachers, coaches, family, children—everyone. Then brainstorm. Set a budget. As you buy gifts, cross it off the list. Start this today. Just do it. All those little details running through your head? Write them down.
Decide as a family how to spend your time. Do you enjoy going to lots of parties? If the answer is no, it’s okay to say, “not this year.” But maybe you’ve always wanted to have a holiday gathering, but never seem to have time. If that’s the case, make it a priority. Put the date on your calendar and do it. My point is, don’t just let December pull you under—take control of your calendar.
Spend time with friends. Take coffee breaks, make playdates, and enjoy the people you’re living life with. Incorporate friends into holiday activities like baking, cookie decorating, and even putting up the Christmas tree.
Incorporate spiritual disciplines. Don’t neglect your spiritual life because of busyness. Find time to pray, meditate, and reach out to others. After all, Jesus kind of is the point. Remember that. It will put the rest of the holiday into perspective.
Shop online. Seriously. The deals are fantastic and many places offer free shipping. If you know what you want, why drag everyone out to the mall to get it? I’ll never forget when the preschooler was younger and we walked into Kohls at Christmastime. His eyes got big and he asked, “Is THIS the mall?” So, thereyougo. Obviously shopping with the kids isn’t on my to-do list very often!
Plan meals. If I know I’m going to spend the day baking or shopping, I plan a very simple dinner. Sometimes this dinner even involves frozen food from Trader Joes. And, no, I don’t have any pride left. But I do get adequate rest.
Make your family a priority. If you’re screaming at everyone to get in line and have fun because, goshdarnit, it’s Christmas and this-is-supposed-to-be-fun, well, you’re missing the point. Chill out and go with the flow. Throw the kids in the car in their jammies and go through the drive-thru at the donut shop and just drive around, looking at lights. Enjoy the people you live with. If your traditions are turning you into a screaming shrew, maybe you need to rethink your traditions. (Or get therapy. But that’s another post.)
I know Christmas gets crazy, but we don’t have to go crazy to enjoy it!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Very Expensive Soup and an explanation
By request, the Expensive Soup Story is below. And by way of explanation, I haven’t given up blogging forever. I just need to be more focused on my writing, and am considering setting up a REAL website with a REAL author’s blog. More on that soon. Plus I’m working through some personal issues—nothing dramatic—just stuff I don’t feel comfortable blogging about.
So without further ado, the Story of The Expensive Soup:
It was a rainy, cool night in Door County, our last night of vacation, and we were looking for a restaurant for dinner. After a bit of googling, I found the perfect place. The Summer Kitchen, featuring a soup bar with five homemade soups made fresh every day. Perfect.
We walked in with our three starving, slightly melted down children, were greeted warmly, and seated on the back porch. The ambiance was lovely and the waitress brought water for all of us and invited us to check out the soup bar.
The kids weren’t too excited about the selections—cabbage, tortilla, and I can’t remember what else.
And then we opened the menu. The soup bar was $15.95. Each. A cup of soup? $10.95. Ridiculous.
But it was almost 7:00 at this point, pouring rain outside, and the boys were at their breaking point. Do we walk out? And go where?
No. We stayed and ate Very Expensive Soup and Weird Lasagna and Very Expensive Hot Dogs.
Crazy. But you know what? We were able to laugh about it, and that’s worth something. The Very Expensive Soup will go down in the history of our family as a night to remember.
So without further ado, the Story of The Expensive Soup:
It was a rainy, cool night in Door County, our last night of vacation, and we were looking for a restaurant for dinner. After a bit of googling, I found the perfect place. The Summer Kitchen, featuring a soup bar with five homemade soups made fresh every day. Perfect.
We walked in with our three starving, slightly melted down children, were greeted warmly, and seated on the back porch. The ambiance was lovely and the waitress brought water for all of us and invited us to check out the soup bar.
The kids weren’t too excited about the selections—cabbage, tortilla, and I can’t remember what else.
And then we opened the menu. The soup bar was $15.95. Each. A cup of soup? $10.95. Ridiculous.
But it was almost 7:00 at this point, pouring rain outside, and the boys were at their breaking point. Do we walk out? And go where?
No. We stayed and ate Very Expensive Soup and Weird Lasagna and Very Expensive Hot Dogs.
Crazy. But you know what? We were able to laugh about it, and that’s worth something. The Very Expensive Soup will go down in the history of our family as a night to remember.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
break
I keep writing posts in my mind, but not posting them.
And, honestly, I have no desire to post them. Not really.
Life is full and I'm sorting through some difficult things in real life. Things I can't blog about.
So, I'm officially taking a break. I'll be back. (I think!)
And, honestly, I have no desire to post them. Not really.
Life is full and I'm sorting through some difficult things in real life. Things I can't blog about.
So, I'm officially taking a break. I'll be back. (I think!)
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
vacation
We just got home from a last-minute “just-one-more-vacation” trip to Door County. We rented a cottage and soaked up the last week of summer break.
What fun.
(Remind me to tell you about the fifteen-dollar bowl of soup.)
The cottage we stayed in was sort of, how should I say, rustic. Or maybe just old. In any case, when we walked in, the boys’ reactions were priceless.
The Preschooler: “Oh, wow! Awesome! We have our own microwave and everything!”
Twin B: “Well, at least it’s clean.”
Twin A: (after walking through the whole cottage) “I wouldn’t want to live here for my house, but it’ll be fine for vacation.”
And so it was.
We made hot cocoa in our very own microwave, biked through Peninsula State Park, swam in the lake, and ate ice cream at Wilson’s almost every day.
Tomorrow, the noisy boys go back to school. In the middle of summer, I never think I’ll be ready for school again. But right about now, I am. I’m ready for the routine and the early mornings and busy schedules. So are the boys.
Stay tuned for the story of the Really Expensive Soup.
What fun.
(Remind me to tell you about the fifteen-dollar bowl of soup.)
The cottage we stayed in was sort of, how should I say, rustic. Or maybe just old. In any case, when we walked in, the boys’ reactions were priceless.
The Preschooler: “Oh, wow! Awesome! We have our own microwave and everything!”
Twin B: “Well, at least it’s clean.”
Twin A: (after walking through the whole cottage) “I wouldn’t want to live here for my house, but it’ll be fine for vacation.”
And so it was.
We made hot cocoa in our very own microwave, biked through Peninsula State Park, swam in the lake, and ate ice cream at Wilson’s almost every day.
Tomorrow, the noisy boys go back to school. In the middle of summer, I never think I’ll be ready for school again. But right about now, I am. I’m ready for the routine and the early mornings and busy schedules. So are the boys.
Stay tuned for the story of the Really Expensive Soup.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
building ideas for kids
My boys love to build. Tinker toys, Lincoln logs, legos, couch cushions, you name it.
A few weeks ago, Twin B. found this book at the library, and we’ve been having a blast trying out different mediums for building. Jello cubes in ice cube trays (made with extra gelatin), looks like fun.
Sugar cube pyramids are another. We went to Jewel and found sugar cubes on clearance for a dollar a box, and stocked up. We now have one thousand sugar cubes—or at least we did before starting our construction projects.
The book recommends making a mortar out of equal parts flour, corn starch and water. I just mix it up into it looks nice and thick. Then, you build.
It’s that simple.
And the kids love it!
Cool building projects on a rainy day works for me. Check out more great ideas at We are that Family.
A few weeks ago, Twin B. found this book at the library, and we’ve been having a blast trying out different mediums for building. Jello cubes in ice cube trays (made with extra gelatin), looks like fun.
Sugar cube pyramids are another. We went to Jewel and found sugar cubes on clearance for a dollar a box, and stocked up. We now have one thousand sugar cubes—or at least we did before starting our construction projects.
The book recommends making a mortar out of equal parts flour, corn starch and water. I just mix it up into it looks nice and thick. Then, you build.
It’s that simple.
And the kids love it!
Cool building projects on a rainy day works for me. Check out more great ideas at We are that Family.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
my garden is dead
It turns out my garden plot is one of the “new” plots the park district created for this growing season. The soil wasn’t great to start with, but the bigger problem is that it’s on the low side.
We had torrential rain this spring, and my plot was completely underwater for about six weeks.
My gardening neighbor was able to get a new plot in the center. The rest of us just watched our gardens rot.
When things finally dried out, I could have replanted. But, to be honest, I didn’t have the heart.
So. Much. Work. Down. The. Tubes.
It just makes me sick.
But the alternative—investing more resources into something that isn’t healthy to begin with—isn’t good either.Sometimes we just have to cut our losses and move on. Is it painful? Yes. But this is life too.
Sometimes we work really hard and our garden dies.
We had torrential rain this spring, and my plot was completely underwater for about six weeks.
My gardening neighbor was able to get a new plot in the center. The rest of us just watched our gardens rot.
When things finally dried out, I could have replanted. But, to be honest, I didn’t have the heart.
So. Much. Work. Down. The. Tubes.
It just makes me sick.
But the alternative—investing more resources into something that isn’t healthy to begin with—isn’t good either.Sometimes we just have to cut our losses and move on. Is it painful? Yes. But this is life too.
Sometimes we work really hard and our garden dies.
Monday, July 12, 2010
missing life
“No. I don’t want to,” the preschooler said, shaking his head.
“But doesn’t it look like fun?” I asked, pointing to stack of canoes.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. He didn’t want to put on a life vest and climb into that canoe.
I assured him it was okay that he didn't want to go, and sent Llama Papa and the noisy boys off in canoes with my Aunt and Uncle. The preschooler and I walked back to the boathouse, and I asked one more time.
“Why don’t you want to try the canoe?”
“Well, it’s too long.”
“We don’t have to go for a long ride. We could just paddle over to the dock. Wanna try it?”
“No. I don’t have my swimsuit on.”
“Oh, that’s okay. We won’t get wet. We’ll stay dry in the boat.”
“Then why do we need to wear those vests?”
“Those are just-in-case vests. Sometimes the boat tips over by accident and we wear the vests to stay safe. But most of the time, almost all of the time, you stay perfectly dry in the boat.”
“Oh. Well. Oh. Okay. I changed my mind. I want to try it.”
We flagged down Llama Papa’s canoe as it headed around a corner, and climbed in. The preschooler grinned as he sat down. We paddled around Stoney Lake, swapping stories with our family in the other canoe and racing toward a mama swan and her babies. We enjoyed the fresh air and sun and time together floating around. The preschooler loved it.
And to think he almost missed it.
Fear holds us back sometimes without us even noticing it. We don’t have the words to describe it, but it’s there. And sometimes we just need someone to ask us the right questions so we can move forward. Life is short. Too short to be held back by insecurity and fear.
Surround yourself with people who ask good questions. People who listen. People who encourage you to try new things and be your best self.
You’ll be glad you did.
“But doesn’t it look like fun?” I asked, pointing to stack of canoes.
He shrugged his shoulders and looked down. He didn’t want to put on a life vest and climb into that canoe.
I assured him it was okay that he didn't want to go, and sent Llama Papa and the noisy boys off in canoes with my Aunt and Uncle. The preschooler and I walked back to the boathouse, and I asked one more time.
“Why don’t you want to try the canoe?”
“Well, it’s too long.”
“We don’t have to go for a long ride. We could just paddle over to the dock. Wanna try it?”
“No. I don’t have my swimsuit on.”
“Oh, that’s okay. We won’t get wet. We’ll stay dry in the boat.”
“Then why do we need to wear those vests?”
“Those are just-in-case vests. Sometimes the boat tips over by accident and we wear the vests to stay safe. But most of the time, almost all of the time, you stay perfectly dry in the boat.”
“Oh. Well. Oh. Okay. I changed my mind. I want to try it.”
We flagged down Llama Papa’s canoe as it headed around a corner, and climbed in. The preschooler grinned as he sat down. We paddled around Stoney Lake, swapping stories with our family in the other canoe and racing toward a mama swan and her babies. We enjoyed the fresh air and sun and time together floating around. The preschooler loved it.
And to think he almost missed it.
Fear holds us back sometimes without us even noticing it. We don’t have the words to describe it, but it’s there. And sometimes we just need someone to ask us the right questions so we can move forward. Life is short. Too short to be held back by insecurity and fear.
Surround yourself with people who ask good questions. People who listen. People who encourage you to try new things and be your best self.
You’ll be glad you did.
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