Mr. Fix It

I love Mark.  You know I love Mark.  (I keep reminding myself of that every time he breaks a favorite Christmas decoration.)

I have a small collection of these Norman Rockwell ornaments of kids playing in the snow.  They are on a little shelf.  Mark knocked this one over.

(Adam wondered how the boys--without their limbs--got up to the top of the hill to sled down.  You've got to admire how happy they seem.)

I was cleaning off the kitchen counter and wondering if I should try to glue the pieces back together or throw them away.  My dad would glue them back together.  Then I remembered mini-Mark.

"Mark," I called up the stairs, "I have a job for you..."

His red head appeared over the landing.

"Glue this back together," I said.

I got him some super glue.  I told him the only rule was that he couldn't glue his fingers together and he couldn't glue the ornament (or his fingers) to the table.  He smiled at me but he really wanted to get to work.  He had a gleam in his eye.

"First figure out the best way to do it," I cautioned, seeing how excited he was to get started.

"I already have," he said.  "I'm missing a piece, yesterday I looked all over the floor for it but I can't find it."

Mark had been planning how to glue it together all along.  Just waiting for me to catch up and cough up the super glue I guess.

He glued bits together then let them dry then put it together little by little.  How does he intrinsically know how to do stuff like that?

I don't know but it's a good skill to have for someone who breaks things.

I could hardly tell where the seams were:

Everybody's back on the shelf:

Mark has a way of salvaging everything.  You can't know how many times he turns a frustrating day around by insisting on kissing me between every math problem or every song he plays when he's supposed to be practicing the piano.  It's hard not to be happy when you're basking in the bigness of Mark's affection.

Our kids take turns giving each other Christmas presents.  This year, Emma will get a gift from Mark.  He decided to give her one of his toys so he can buy himself a newer better one.  I said, "It sounds like you want to give Emma a gift you want, not something she'd want."

Then I made a few suggestions.

Mark said, "It sounds like you want me to give Emma a gift you want, not something she'd want."

I said, "Except she told me she wanted those things."

Mark, Mark.

Then he came up with the best possible and perfect gift for Adam that I'd never have thought of on my own.

I'll keep him.

It's December

I had a dream that I had a job interview I was late for and a truckload of workers just arrived to refinish my hardwood floors and a limousine also pulled up with recruiters that wanted to talk to my brother Enoch (who is in his mid-thirties...and lives in Nevada so why were they at my house?  Furthermore, do recruiters arrive in limousines?  This is out of my realm of expertise...) about playing college basketball for them.  Also my mom was on the phone and my aunt and uncle (also from Nevada) were at the door to visit.

So yeah, I think it's December and my dreams are manifesting some chaos in my brain that needs to resolve itself.

I also recently read this article by Hannah Bird.  This part resonated with me in particular:

...we are now knee deep into helpful hints for surviving Christmas. Apparently the celebration of the birth of Christ has become so complex that it, like a knife fight, an open-seating budget flight, or Mondays, needs surviving.

I don't want to "survive" Christmas.  I am striving to be calm, merry and bright.  I want to let my weary world rejoice.  There is a lot to do, all of my own making.  No one is holding a gun to my head, forcing me to create cheer.  I want to do everything I can to create a warm and peaceful holiday for my family.  Balance needs to be struck.  My to do list awaits, I'll try to just keep my crazy contained in my dreams. 

(The above dream was better than my previous anxiety dream I had while in the throes of the play and bronchitis.  It involved me driving at night.  I was at a busy intersection and just as I pulled out into traffic not only my headlights but every light around me went out and I was plunged into terrifying darkness.  I woke up in a panic...I really am a lot of fun.)

When your kids get big...

Friday was apparently take your ginger to work day because Adam took Mark to work.  We missed the little guy around here.

That meant I had my two oldest here to help me decorate for Christmas.  It was remarkably fast.  I couldn't believe how quickly we finished and how un-exhausted I felt at the end compared to usual.  Besides being able to hang things for me that I usually have to stand on a chair to hang, Braeden lugged boxes and kept his foot on the accelerator because he works fast.  It's his only speed.  He also set up the living room tree along with Emma like it was his job.  Teenage boys.  That's where it's at when you need the heavy lifting.  And reaching. 

We were decorating the living room tree and after one too many comments from Emma and me about his ornament placement he sat down on a chair and said, "Can I do something else? I'm no good at this."

(Perhaps this was because I told him he put ornaments up like he was drunk.  I do my best to bolster self esteem around here...)

Emma and I sent him for pizza and we finished the tree without him.  Emma is an asset in the decorating department.  She's patient and has an artistic eye.  I felt guilty on Thanksgiving morning because I made pie and rolls while she was asleep.  I'm not teaching her to bake.

I have taught her how to decorate a tree though.  So that's something.

There are some stark contrasts around here from how it used to be--besides the lickety split decorating.

This bookshelf kind of sums it up:

 

Those are all the Christmas bears, arranged in chronological order by Braeden and Emma.  It used to be that the bears were played with all day long and in a constant jumble.  I wouldn't be surprised if they stay that neat and tidy all season.

Also those are our Christmas books.  This is the first time in over ten years that I haven't wrapped them up for a Christmas book advent calendar, one book to be opened and read aloud every day.  The past few years, our kids are too busy and it hasn't happened.  Sometimes on the weekends, we'd have a marathon book reading session but it just wasn't the same.

This year I decided to let it go.  Some traditions are meant to evolve.  Last night everyone picked a book and read it out loud to the rest of us.  Braeden did different voices and accents, Adam read aloud like only Adam can read aloud.  Awesomely.  He had to reread some lines because we were laughing. (A Wish For Wings that Work--it's a favorite around here.) There were no snuggling children on either side of me with Mark on my lap like there used to be.  That could have killed me under the crush. 

You can't have everything and I thoroughly love having teenagers.

Especially when you can send them out for pizza. 

Books I read in November 2013

November was pathetic for reading.  Too busy to read = too busy...

I tried to read:

 Becoming Jane Eyre by Sheila Kohler *

I didn't finish it or really give it much of a chance.  Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books of all and this is a fictional, but based on truth, story about Charlotte Bronte.  It was depressing (of course it was depressing) and there was a lot of mention made about the gloomy weather and it was November in the Pacific Northwest.  So I needed something a little less gray.

So...

Beach Trees by Karen White ***

I liked this book a lot.  It's set in New Orleans and Biloxi, MS.  It was an intriguing story about a woman who is trying to help unravel family secrets about her dead friend's family.  That doesn't really describe it aptly but if you googled it you could find a more satisfactory synopsis.  I appreciated the way the author was able to depict the place.  I also thought the characters were interesting.

Cinder by Marissa Meyer **

I don't really like sci-fi or dystopia literature but I gave this one a try anyway.  My writing group friends recommended it and I like to read what the cool people are reading.  It was good enough that I made it to the end (which was sort of a cliff hanger) but yeah, I still don't like sci-fi or dystopia stuff all that much.  Emma would love this book so I'll have her read the subsequent ones to tell me what happens.

I'm just not that interested in cyborgs.  I guess I'll never be like the cool people...

Comfort and joy

A lot of the time I feel a little tepid about facebook.  There are people I regret ever friending.  (I regret that friending is a word because that's weird.)  At times I see things about people I didn't want to know.  If I ever post something there--which is rare--I feel squeamish like that was awfully forward of me.  I have no problem pouring out my narcissism on my blog but not on facebook.  I don't have to always make sense, OK?

Sometimes though, facebook really delivers.

My cousin Dixie got married recently.  I would have loved to have gone.  I love my cousins (almost without exception) and I enjoy myself any time I'm around them.  I was happy to be able to look through the pictures Dixie posted on facebook of her happy day.  I loved seeing the joy reflected on her face and her groom's face and on the faces of her lovely sisters and brother.  It was downright heartwarming.

Then I saw these two pictures. (And I stole them because the internet turns me into a kleptomaniac at times.)

Pictured here are my uncle Joe, my dad, my mom, my uncle Drew and my aunt Pam.  From my earliest memories my parents would sit around with my aunts and uncles at family gatherings and there was a constant hum of witty dialog, punctuated occasionally by erupting laughter.  Seeing these pictures made me unreasonably happy.  I love seeing these people together.  I love seeing them enjoy each other.  I love seeing them laugh together.

I read one time that the safest a child can feel is when they are between their parents.  Maybe the second safest a child can feel is when they see their parents sitting around with their aunts and uncles, talking and laughing and reassuring you that all is right with the world.

It is certainly true in my case.

A whoooooooole lot of pictures

To my credit, I purchased a disc of over 800 pictures from the photographer so I really showed a great deal of restraint.

Here are some of my favorites:

Algernon (Jadon) and Jack (Braeden) conversing in their British accents and looking like dandies.

Jack trying to recover his cigarette case

Jack (posing as Earnest) and his lady love, Gwendolyn

Jack proposes and is accepted. (They didn't wear khaki dockers in Victorian England but they were the pants long enough for Braeden's legs.)

...but then Lady Bracknell, Gwendolyn's mother, objects...there's the matter of his not knowing who his parents are and being found in a handbag at Victoria station as a baby (Brighton Line).

Gwendolyn comes back to find out where Jack's country estate is located...Algernon eavesdrops and gets the address.

Algernon shows up--posing as Earnest--and meets Jack's ward Cecily who is "very pretty and just eighteen".

Jack is faking the death of his fake brother Earnest to Dr. Chasuble and Miss Prism

But Earnest isn't dead after all!  Cecily encourages a reconciliation between the two "brothers." Jack squeezes Algernon's hand a little harder than necessary.

Cecily instructs "Earnest" on their engagement which happened months before they ever met (in her mind).

Cecily and Gwendolyn meet and instantly like each other.

Until they find out they are both engaged to Earnest

They learn neither man is named Earnest.

They immediately forgive each other.

but the men are not too happy...

They whistle their way to forgiveness...

And promise to be christened Earnest

Until Lady Bracknell shows up again

She decides she likes Cecily (because Cecily is wealthy) and instructs her in how to hold her chin.

Jack insists he won't allow Cecily to marry unless he can marry Gwendolyn.  One of my favorite lines of the play, when Lady Bracknell still refuses to give her consent (because of the whole handbag situation), Jack says, "Then a very passionate celibacy is all that any of us can look forward to."

But then Lady Bracknell sees Miss Prism and confronts her about what ever happened to that baby...

Jack produces the handbag and yes it is Miss Prism's and she did leave a baby in it...

Mother!

But she wasn't his mother, Algernon's mother was Jack's mother and they are brothers!

Looking in a book about his newly found father, Jack learn his name truly is Earnest.

And they lived happily ever after (except Lady Bracknell wasn't all that happy).

If you're still reading you are either related to me or extremely patient.  Here are two parting shots...the crew:  my darling prop manager front and center.

And the cast:

The End.

Aunt Olivia

One of my favorite aunts is my Aunt Olivia.  She's my dad's little sister.  She's the one that broke my dad's front tooth with a broom handle (after he purposefully got a comb so stuck in her hair that it had to be cut).  They love each other a lot and to my knowledge have stopped torturing each other.  Aunt Olivia is kind and loving and generous to us and always has been.

I am happy that my children have an Aunt Olivia too.

Because she's something else.

My children are very lucky in their wonderful aunts.  They are all good and kind.  (But this post is about Olivia.)

Olivia and Edgar came to visit and to see The Importance of Being Earnest.  It was a whirlwind trip because Olivia didn't want to be gone from her children for too long.  I was grateful to get what we could from them.  Olivia chatted with our kids and showed interest in their lives and complimented them and did all the aunt things you could want.

I loved sitting next to her at the play.  I feel supremely happy next to my sisters.  (And when I walk next to them I feel a little short.)

My kids call Olivia "ciocia" which is aunt in Polish.  (My kids don't speak Polish but Olivia does so maybe that makes sense?)

My kids love Ciocia--and can you blame them?

I think she is adorable.  Her smile is like an antidote for every ill in the world.

After the play Adam was still at the school with Braeden and Emma, helping to strike the set, Mark had been sent to bed and Edgar--the patient driver of long distance--had also gone to bed.  Olivia and I lounged around chatting in an exhausted state.  We started talking about mothers vs. aunts and I reminded her that before she had children she was an instigator among my toddler children.  She'd get them riled up and they would all get in trouble.  She's that sort of aunt.  She had a dress up box for them when she was still in college.

Olivia lamented that she used to be a much better aunt before she got so busy with her five children.

I had to agree. 

I mean driving 800 miles to see your nephew in a high school play is sort of the epitome of a lame aunt, right?