The Ghosts of Everything Past

Link ~ January 4, 2019January 4, 2019 ~ mildlifecrisis ~ 2 Comments

The 2018 holiday season has concluded. If you are reading this, I can only assume you survived. There are 14 (at least) religious holidays alone in the month of December. I celebrate Christmas and can assure you that is plenty. I have been pondering why holidays are so very stressful and furthermore why we continue to gather when it seems it drives many to the brink of insanity. My holiday season this year was actually not stressful which gave me some good time to think on it instead of hiding in the bathroom in the fetal position (that was so 2004 me). But-Why do we do even do this to ourselves? What is causing all this strain? So much drama. There is the obvious. The excess. Too much food. Too much family. Too much on the schedule. Too much running around. Too much alcohol. Too much money spent. Too much expectation. Too many personalities. Too large a gap between hopes and reality. Too much of everything.

I had a mostly idyllic childhood filled with fun holidays. I know. Nauseating right? We had family over. We had good food. We had our traditions. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s. Predictable characters and patterns. We opened gifts in order of age and on Christmas Eve. I received Love’s Baby Soft many years in a row. I ate rolls and cookies for dinner. We had weird cousins. My brother wisely remarked one year that we are their weird cousins because if you don’t think you have any in your family…you are the weird cousins. It’s okay. Even weird cousins are loved by loved ones and children of God and all that. And I wasn’t even aware of families who lamented holidays until college. I was living in a blissful holiday bubble. Also-can we go back to the 70’s? Bold fashion choices. BOLD.

And as I aged and met more and more people, and got married and started to try to meld family traditions and meet all the expectations, I became aware. Acutely aware. (Commence hiding in the bathroom)

Holidays are not cause for celebration for everyone.

Some are trying to heal from past disappointment. Some are trying to carry on traditions that are plain unreasonable. Some are nice quiet people who do not like chaos. Some people have very difficult names on their guest list. Some months are tough enough without adding a dinner that includes fatty foods and arguing. Some families are nuts.

A generation (or two) ago families got together and got together often. Many extended families lived near one another. (My grandmother lived in Prospect Park in Minneapolis and they had Sunday dinner together. The entire extended family. Every Sunday.) Which is to say that a big holiday like Christmas was just one more on the list of many occasions throughout the year spent with extended family.

But now?

It might be the only time of the year to gather. People fly all over the country and all over the world to “go home” for Christmas. It’s the one time to see the cousins. It’s the one chance for so and so and such and such to interact. It’s when we take many more photos because we are all finally in the same space. Or possibly you are an “every other year” family. So basically, we have elevated the holiday to either SUPERBOWL or WINTER OLYMPIC frequency and expectation. And with infrequency comes the pressure to make it the end all be all most special most everything day of the year. Good grief. Who wants to try to participate in let alone execute that?

And then layered on top of the heightened sense of expectation can be a thin layer of pain. Probably for everyone. This I feel. I think the common denominator is memory. The holiday season brings up so many memories of every ilk. Good holiday memories make me nostalgic and wistful. Bad holiday memories make me sad and regretful. Maybe we miss a tradition that got swept away with time. Maybe we always wanted to start a new tradition but couldn’t. Maybe we are missing someone around our table. Maybe we always intend to make Swedish Kringle but couldn’t fit it in this year. (damn) Maybe the joy is missing this year. And ALL of that plus a tired crowd and Uncle Crazy Town starts a political conversation with Grandma. And….KA-BOOM!

My brother bought me a gift this Christmas. We are not supposed to exchange per new family rules. But not listening or following any Christmas giving rules might be our most long cherished family tradition.

The acquisition of this set comes with a great story unto itself. (he tells it better but I’ll summarize) Tracking one down. 40 phone calls to antique stores. Research. An hour drive north to pick it up. Realizing it was not as advertised. Colorful language. But this is the set he gave me and I absolutely cherish it. It’s at least 55 years old. And while I am hardly passionate about all things vintage…this I adore. Because it brings it all back in all the best ways. My dad. My mom. Our family together. Being young and waiting for Santa. Being in college and still waiting for Santa. Did you know Santa still fills your stocking in college? He does because SHE is awesome and magical. The Tom and Jerry’s. (If you haven’t had one, you really must. The rich batter. The rum and brandy. The fresh nutmeg. It truly is a taste sensation. I recommend one. I do NOT recommend 3.) The joy. The loss.

So I’m thankful for all the shitty holidays. All the times it just didn’t come together. The year we were at the Minute Clinic on Christmas Eve. The year my son gave himself a black eye 10 minutes before family arrived. Occasionally when a family member lost their minds and said something ridiculous. When someone forgot the orange juice or didn’t show up or showed up with extra people or when we were all trapped inside in -20 degree weather. Because it made me appreciate this year. It was a good one. I was reminded of so many people I have loved and do love and so many shared experiences and traditions. I appreciate that each year is steeped in tradition and yet a tiny bit different. And moving away from the pressure of the perfect experience and toward the gratitude helps me enjoy it. And enjoy I did.

Cheers to 2019. May we all focus on the micro moments of joy. Because not every year is great or becomes a favorite…but every year has moments of greatness and creates favorite memories to be cherished down the road.

*Note: LOOK at Santa in 1978 and 1979. They hired him AGAIN!??? He does not smell like Santa. He smells like beef and cheese. For sure.

We look like a normal family. Kind of.

December 15, 2017 ~ mildlifecrisis ~ 2 Comments

Long before Instagram and Facebook and Snapchat and all other filtered projections of our most perfect and curated selves there was the annual holiday letter. Letters full of updates and accolades, achievements and vacations and job promotions. Somewhere along the way this morphed into photo cards. I LOVE holiday cards. LOVE. Love sending, love receiving. I like seeing the families morph. I like seeing the clever frames and banners and card styles and shapes and colors. Shoutout to anyone who pays extra for scalloped edges. They.look.amazing. And I really, really like the weird ones we get and we get them almost every single year. Weird cards RULE.

One year I got a Christmas letter from a family member. I am related to this person. The entire letter was about the deep and somber symbolism of the candy cane. It was long and detailed. According to this letter, the white of the candy cane represents the purity of Christ and the red represents the blood of lamb who was slain. (Insert surprised and barf emoji here) Uh…what? Needless to say, I needed a very long break from candy canes and those relatives.

I had a friend who was divorced and got remarried. A wedding photo was their holiday card. But her name was the same. I didn’t get it. Did she keep her name? Did he take her name? I ended up having to place a phone call. She married someone with the same last name the second time. What are the odds? Note: Super convenient if you already have Pottery Barn monogrammed towels.

One year we got one from a colleague that worked with my husband. It was a photo of a man and a woman on a horse. They were on a beach. It was signed: (I’m using aliases for their own protection) Tom, Linda and Gwen. There were only two people in the photo. Was it Tom and Linda? Was it Tom and Gwen? Why two female names? Do they have a daughter not pictured? Is the horse named Gwen? Did they name their horse? Is Linda more of a horse name? Why do you have a horse featured in your holiday card? It remains a mystery.

I have a friend who has referred to the annual holiday card family photo shoot as “The Worst Day of The Year”. He is a boisterous happy-go-lucky type so if it can take him out, it is certainly capable of making any of us crazy.

For years I have obsessed with the holiday photo card. It’s a sickness. Mainly because it is a complex multi-step process during a busy time of year and I am in charge of all the steps because I am the only one who cares WAAAAAAY too much about the result. The setting, the outfits, screaming at the people to get ready, hiring the photographer, the scheduling, the editing, the ordering, the addressing, the culling of the addresses from 23 places, the mailing, et cetera et cetera. I do it to myself because I do like having a family photo from each year but in retrospect-none of them are what they appear and some years, I may have sent the wrong one.

I was going to send this in 2003. I thought it would be funny because this year it felt like we were perpetually desperate for sleep and the kids were perpetually awake that year. But I thought I looked like hell and I didn’t like the drool all over the baby onesie. My husband feels he has “fat face” in this picture. Should have sent it. I still think it’s funny. Look at that tough guy look with the power fist on a 2 month old.

I always loved this picture but I didn’t use it for the card because the wind got into her hair and the baby pant leg crept up over his chunky leg and his diaper was way past slightly wet. Now I think…Ahhhhh… we look young. Babies having babies in that photo.

Couldn’t use this for the card because I thought we looked “too sweaty”. And again the boy wasn’t looking directly at the camera. It looks like us. We were chasing young children while sweating. …And we were just a simple family of four…

This year I yelled at my son because he was eating pretzels in the car making his shirt a mess. What kind of lunatic dresses kids this age in white? Later in the day he slipped on a rock and stepped INTO a pool of water filling his shoe. (Mud on right pant leg) I thought it was complicated getting them both to pose and stay clean until…

Now…I did use one from this group of photos…but not this one because the boy is AGAIN not looking at the camera and the baby looks squished and I look so tired which I was because of well…all of them in the photo. I literally have zero recollection of these photos being taken. The whole day is lost. Oh hell…the following year is missing from my hard drive. I guess thank God I have the photo. That’s a nine mile stare and a cry for help expression on my face.

I didn’t use this one because I didn’t like the way two of them had on shoes and one didn’t. And my daughter had a weird spot on the knee of her jeans. What on earth??? Who cares? Now I can’t pick up any of them like that. They can nearly pick me up!

I should have sent this one that year. There was a lot of me begging and pleading for everything to JUST SMILE NORMAL. All we did was wait for the baby to join us that day and that entire year. He was not having it. And I’m smiling but I was seriously irritated. Hurry up kid. We have a photo shoot with a paid photographer right.NOW.

I was mad. At that face??? HOW? How was that even possible?

So I used this one. This is my favorite holiday card that I have ever sent. EVER. More than five people asked me if I photoshopped it. Uh…No. I had to physically wrestle/bribe/beg him to get him to just wear that shirt. He insisted he put it over the shirt he was already wearing. I had used up all my energy trying to just get people dressed. Not photoshopped. But…from the same day the one below…

THIS captures more about the family dynamic. The domination of a large personality packed into a tiny person.

This is very close to the one I did use. More than one person asked me where we got the “cute vintage car with the tree” for the photo. In the driveway. Our driveway. That was just my husband’s car. He didn’t know he was being vintage cute. Also…that’s our tree that we cut down that day. Do people borrow cars and trees for their holiday card?

Ok. I used this one. I wanted a real snowball fight photo so we had a real snowball fight. However, I specifically and LOUDLY told them to not aim for faces or someone would cry and then we wouldn’t have any photos. As you can see, they listened so well. You can also see that my daughter was struck in the back of the head as well. We went home tired, wet and cold. But it did make for a good photo. Also, I spent an hour on the phone with the printer so they would move the text box. Because I’m crazy.

I didn’t use this one because our legs looked weird to me and the wild man’s shirt wasn’t showing and it said, “Silent Nights are Boring”. I like this photo though…because 30 seconds after it was taken…we broke the hammock completely and all fell screaming onto the ground. Max weight limit on that hammock < Our family.

Note: The photo I did use had full frontal dog nudity. There was a dog penis in our holiday card that year. For.real.

Last year. I sent a collage of imperfect shots because I.was.tired. I did not include the ones where 2/3 of the kids turned and bent over to feature their butts. Because we are classy.

This year…a panicked text message to a dear friend that it was snowing. Big flakes in November. We throw clothes on and race to the docks. She takes this photo on my phone.

I wanted it in height order because I am moving down the line and the kids are moving up. Now…I look taller than my daughter but her knees are bent and my hair stands up. Everyone looking the correct direction. Even the puppy. Good work. We look like a normal family.

Here we are 5 minutes later. Older brother throws younger brother’s frisbee into the water. Cue innocent sister laughing. Cue mom and dad screaming at kid to go retrieve frisbee. Yeah…we know it’s cold. Next time, don’t be an idiot and throw something in the lake.

So…Long after I’m gone and only the photos remain…I hope my children realize, our real lives, family life-the very best of it was all in the outtakes.

All I Don’t Want For Christmas

December 3, 2015 ~ mildlifecrisis ~ Leave a comment

This post is about Christmas. If this offends you, I can’t help you…it said it IN the title.

This time of year…it’s full of joy. Joy and insanity. One of my friends says, “Ah-the holidays. That time of year when nobody gets their way.” She gets it. It feels like there are a thousand extra things to do and the goal is to bring yourself to the brink of lunacy emotionally, financially, spiritually, mentally and physically. There are demands on how to execute the holidays, where they should be held, who should be included, who should be excluded, when it should be done, what should be served, appropriate gifts to be given, events to attend, and what type of cheerful elf-inspired mood we should all be in. Except many of us aren’t.

Well I’m not doing everything this year and I’m typically crazy for Christmas. I’m in love with Christmas but sometimes I’m giving way more in this relationship than I am getting. (Don’t email me people: I know Jesus is the reason for the season) What I mean is-I can end up missing the whole thing in my efforts to do it all. I’m learning my lessons from the ghosts of Christmas past.

One year I cried (while drinking a Manhattan) while I assembled a wretched Playmobil Zoo until 2:00am so that my son would be overcome with Christmas cheer and fall down bawling with surprise and feverish gratitude and love for his mother. The next morning when I waited for his delight, he strolled by and patted the tiny miniature seal and then sat on the floor to eat Hershey kisses for 2 hours.

One year I wore myself down so much, I got the stomach flu the day after Christmas and was confined to my room for 4 days and watched the kids ice skate from my sick bed.

There was the year Jack tripped and gave himself a seriously black eye Christmas Eve morning. While serving food, I rotated bags of peas on his face.

There was the year Isabelle had strep and we were at the clinic on Christmas Eve.

The year(s) people said they would show up and they didn’t and also a year they showed up when they said they weren’t going to. Yeah.

The years I’m pinned in the kitchen and can’t even see what people are opening after spending hours upon hours searching, purchasing, hiding, and wrapping.

So here is what I am not doing this year:

I’m not over-decorating. I’m not going to put up every single blasted thing I have collected for Christmas. It’s too much. I have my things, things I’ve inherited, things I’ve been gifted, heirlooms, things the kids have made. Things I can’t get rid of for a variety of reasons. If I display everything it looks like Christmas puked and it makes me go pattern blind for it is WAY too much to look at and WAY too much to put away. See favorite decoration below. I smile every time I see it.

I’m not letting the kids help me with everything. I know. Bad Mommy. I don’t care. I want to put things where I want them. I want to handle some of them gingerly so that they remain in one piece. Last year an ornament was broken that had been in my family for 40 years because it was tossed like a baseball.

Also-please don’t help me with all the baking. No help necessary. I like to bake for the holidays and I love to have the kids help me with some of the baking. We usually make a gingerbread house. It’s so fun and almost always involves a glue gun and a long discussion about the merits of cedar shake shingles (cinnamon toast crunch). But I really don’t want their help with all of it. I get distracted and then things aren’t right and don’t turn out and taste like crap AND I really don’t need help from one certain helper elf that occasionally LICKS his hands. Gross. Nobody needs saliva in their baked goods. He can busy himself opening and shutting the 25 doors on the advent calendar. And he does. It’s like a cardio workout the way he handles that thing.

I’m not going to fixate on loved ones that aren’t here. Now-touchy subject. This is one of many, many reasons that this time of year throws people into a complete tailspin. Too many reminders. So much grief. The empty spot at the table. All of these loved ones will be on my mind. I will miss them. But this year I’m not going to obsess to the point that I miss out on all the people that are here including myself. I’m going to focus on this year and this experience and this time that I have and try to not let it slip by as I rush through to January. It doesn’t serve anyone else well in my family if I curl up in the fetal position under the tree.

I’m not spending weeks dealing with the holiday card. For real. I usually do. I can’t even explain it. But this time I had to let a few things go. We had a lot of nice photos taken, I had an idea of what I wanted it to look like but concessions were made. Actually, here is what happened this year. I’m just going to say it out loud. There is a penis on my Christmas card. Yep. A penis. Nothing says “celebrating the birth of Christ” like full frontal nudity. Jesus was nude in the manger right?

Ok-it’s the dog. But still.

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I’m not going to see the Nutcracker Fantasy. I LOVE the Nutcracker. (maybe I should not have had this paragraph immediately following the penis one) Anyway, it’s as big a part of my holiday memories as anything else but this year I’m going to skip it. I just have to. I went last year to the big anniversary hullaballoo but trying to cram it in this year doesn’t look likely and I’ve nearly made my peace with it.

I’m not going to make up Christmasy excuses that I’m too busy to fit in a few things that I really want to do. I really wanted to host a holiday breakfast for a few friends. NO.BIG.DEAL. I have 35 people on Christmas Day so 8 women is practically a vacation. Except it is one more thing to do and one more thing to ask of them just to show up. But I am going to make it happen and not talk myself out of spending 2 little hours with people I really enjoy. I also had a few things that I wanted to make myself to give as gifts. I’m not going to let myself pretend that it cannot possibly get done. I’m going to carve out a little time and have some fun making my funny homemade gifts. (I’ve already said too much. :))

I’m not going to cut down our Christmas tree this year. We have gone for years now to cut down the tree together as a family. We ride on the wagon, trudge through the snow, bring the saw, I take dozens of photos. (below) Here is the thing though…If I wait for the perfect 6 hour window…the tree will be here January 5^th. So we are going to the tree lot. 20 minutes. Easy peasy. We still will all be together. We will have a place to hang the ornaments.

I’m not going to beat myself up if I don’t find the perfect thing for every person. I know there is a lot of “remember the reason for the season” platitudes. It’s not about the gifts. But to me, the giving has always been central to the very spirit of Christmas. It is a symbol of the celebration and the care in which I choose gifts has always been important to me. It should not be careless. I like people to feel well loved. I show love through thoughtfulness. But I’m cutting myself 3% slack this year. Sometimes the exact thing I’ve conjured up simply does not exist. I will have to give a few people an extra hug.

Oh- And I’m not going to get sick. Do you hear me God??? I am NOT going to get sick.

I don’t want to miss the forest for the tree. (hee hee) The truth is that there is a pressure to keep up ALL the traditions. And then the family gets larger and there is more to keep up. And then everyone has their own set of expectations and it grows to a level that would drive even the most grounded person to run and drown themselves in the punch bowl. And really, every year is different. Every single year. The decorations, the traditions, the events, the people gathered around the table are a changing cast of characters each time.

And that is ok.

So Santa, if you are reading this: This Is All I Don’t Want For Christmas

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