London Calling

Making memories

The past few months have been difficult because this is the first holiday season without my mom.  Our family is small and my mom was the spark.  She always sang the loudest and cracked the most -- although not usually the best -- jokes.  She was the best cook and the first to help with the dirty work in the kitchen.  She'd sit on the floor and play with the kids or play cards with the grown-ups.

It was much quieter without her.  Not truly quiet like the decibel level, but something was missing from the noise.

The one thing that I think kept me going, was the memories that I was making with the kids.  Most of them were extensions of memories that my mom had made with us:  making cookies, decorating the tree, singing Christmas songs or reading Christmas stories.  I felt like she was with us when we were doing these things -- not like an angel watching us but like a piece of her was being shared with the kids.  Even though they are too young to remember her, they will know her.  And that is what kept me going through London's 300th round of Jingle Bells or watching without cringing as he rolled cookie dough and about a pound of flour onto the floor.  We made wonderful memories.

Tonight, it feels like I've taken my first breath since mid-November. The last month has been a whirlwind of birthdays and holiday celebrations -- and for each, I was running around at the very last minute to buy gifts or cook something or decorate something.

The kids at times were overwhelmed and at other times they just enjoyed themselves. Violet couldn't get over looking at the Christmas tree and London counted down the days until Santa came. He was even old enough to start to understand that Christmas was about more than just the fat old man. There was meaning underneath all of the holiday madness.

My quiet time is short. There's still New Year's Eve and four more birthdays before mid-January. But tonight, I can sit and remember the kids' faces on Christmas morning and their first experience caroling with the family and listening to grandpa's Christmas reading. And I'll remember last Christmas and how happy my mom was watching London come down the stairs on Christmas morning to find that Santa had visited. She held Violet as often as she could and made sure to help Blu in the kitchen.

I miss her.

No smiles for paparazzi mom

I had all of these grandiose ideas about the Christmas card this year.  Beautiful photos of the kids:  smiling, happy, having fun.  In the end, the card is just fine.  (And I just ordered it last night, so it may not even get to anyone before New Year's.)  Still, it's not the "vision" that I had.

There were two big obstacles.  (Maybe more.)  

(1) London refuses to smile for pictures.  Not only does he refuse to smile, but he avoids looking at the camera.

(2) We're only with Taylor a few weeks a year.  Time is of the essence when we're all together.

Over Thanksgiving, it was chaotic with all of the kids and food prep, etc.  We had a chance to take a few photos of the kids, but London wasn't in the mood or the lighting was wrong or somebody mad a face or whatever.  

Last night I decided to dress the kids in their Christmas pajamas and take a photo of them playing.  If I took enough photos, one had to work.  Wrong.  London wouldn't wear his new pajamas -- change is tough for him.  Violet was happy -- as usual -- but it was the end of the day and they didn't last long.  This was the best picture I took.

Maybe next year.

 

First steps

Violet took her very first steps today.  It won't be long before she runs.  She's a daredevil like her big brother.  She's been climbing up on her toy table and the heaters and London's step stool and anything that she can find.  

Life is about to get even more interesting.

Shopping with mommy

Yesterday, Violet & I went to the One of a Kind show in Chicago.  I wanted to go, but waited until the last minute to make the decision.  It's a great show at the Merchandise Mart that hosts hundreds of artists.  Some of the work is really outstanding.

I would've loved to go with a girlfriend and make a day of it.  Lunch, shop, wine, train home.  Since I've been away from the kids so much lately, I just couldn't do that.  So, Violet joined.  (And I did shout out to a couple of girlfriends who might want to make the trek with us.  No takers.)

I wasn't looking for anything specific to buy, but I was looking for something special.  As I walked the show, I realized that I wanted something -- art or an item for our home -- that would be bright and that would feel "happy."  Not that I'm trying to find happiness in a material item.  Seriously, if I haven't found it in food, it's not happening with art. 

It's not that I'm unhappy, but I've been so sad that I want to surround myself with bright, light, colorful symbols of what our life is now.  I call our decor style "preschool eclectic."  It's bold and if grape juice spills on anything, I won't cry.  (I may pout.)

The irony in my pursuit is that at the end of the day, when I was rocking Violet to sleep, I realized that it would have been a perfect day to spend with my mom.  She loved unusual and beautiful bags and glasses and jewelry.  She loved an adventure day in the city and she loved spending time with us.  She would've had a wonderful day.  We would've had a wonderful day. 

Mom, I miss you.

So many stories ...

I've been quiet for a while because life has been moving so fast -- too fast to take breath.  The last week, I've had a little time to catch up with normal life.  Almost every night, London asks if Miss Evelyn is going home or if Taylor is coming over (the sitters).  It is pretty evident that my being home is unusual for everyone.  I think that it's the first week I've been home every night since early July.

When normal isn't the norm, when it's not what you've become used to, it can be extraordinary.  Sitting in the rocking chair with one of the kids or reading a book with them or sitting in London's new tent is a very special treat.  The kids are more beautiful to me; they smell even more wonderful; their smiles melt even my worst mood. 

Of course life isn't perfect.  I took the kids for a drive on Thursday night through a Christmas light show at a nearby museum.  The lights were a little overwhelming for me -- too much, too bright.  (Grizwalds gone wild.)  Violet was at her limit and London was overwhelmed by it all.  After a screaming stop at Burger King for a kiddie meal, I was trying to figure out how I could stop for a bottle of wine without looking like (and maybe being) a terrible mother.  Couldn't drag them into a liquor store or grocery.  Although I bet I'd get a lot of knowing looks.  Couldn't leave them in the car like my parents used to do with us.  That just doesn't fly anymore.  In the end, we went home & I squeezed the remains of a box of white wine that I use for poaching fish & chicken.  My only feeling of dignity is that I could've easily made myself a martini, but for some reason, I felt that drinking hard liquor was so much worse than squeezing a bladder of plastic to get the last drops of cheap white wine.  Yeah, life is getting back to normal.