Holiday Reflections

The holidays, though fun, are as hectic and over scheduled for my family as they are for everyone else. I'll tell you about it:  We did a Santa's Village trip with one branch of my family early in December, which we decided to substitute for our traditional get together and present exchange. I was in total favor of swapping the gifts and squeezed  in gathering for the opportunity to create new traditions with my children and their grandparents, but the four hour drive and two overnights between our work schedules  made the trip a hefty undertaking. The following weekend, we threw our three year old her first real birthday bash at the Maine Jump. She loved it. I justified the party's high price tag by playing on any apparatus I could fit on. That same morning I was at church attempting to rehearse a pared down version of the Christmas story with ten or so kids ranging in age from 3 to 13. I came in late because I had volunteered to sing in the service and left early to get to big D's party on time. I arrived ten minutes late with a store bought peanut butter cake with writing on top that had gone smooshy from sitting in the fridge overnight.

The next two weeks brought lots of Charlie Brown Christmas and Rudolph watching, and finals which included speed reading an uplifting two inch thick novel about a paranoid schizophrenic Native American serial killer complete with graphic murder scenes, and a few papers. As well as the complete demolition and reconstruction of our interior staircase which leads to both girls' bedrooms and our only bathroom. I also had a wall built smack dab down the center of our living room to create a third bedroom on the first floor. Ongoing throughout the weeks was the shopping. A bit online, a ball popper for little D, digital frame for Mom. A bit at Target at the eleventh hour, "Oh  crap the tree looks bare" gifts for my girls and husband, after vowing to myself and Jesus not to over commercialize our family's Christmas. Mostly though, I shopped locally, dropping a goodly sum at Briar Patch bookstore and the Natural Living Center. The Christmas cards squeaked out, in typical week-of fashion, and I wrapped gifts with a bottle of wine on the 23rd. About half way through (the bottle,) a girl friend who I hadn't seen in months invited me out for a bite. Frowning at my saggy kneed sweatpants, wine glass, and pile o presents still yet to be wrapped, I regretfully declined. That same night big D came home from Grammy's with the flu. Then, my husband decided to resign from his job. 

My mother came home from Florida to spend the holidays with my sister and I and our families. She offered to come over Christmas night to spend a couple of days with us. She ended up nursing me through a particularly nasty run of stomach flu. When I could finally stand again, we took down the tree and every last bit of red and green, and sent it back to the attic for another year. I was Christmased out. I could tolerate no consideration of New Year's Eve plans, and so, made none accept for an impromptu trip to the kids party at the library. We popped a cheap bottle of bubbly at 8 and I was in bed after three flutes at 11. The last few days have felt so quiet and restful I've even found myself in the evenings wondering what to do. Hence my (much anticipated, I'm sure,) return to Life By the Beans. 

Pausing to reflect on the craziness of the last month has given me an awareness of the craziness of the last month. I know many people live like this during the holidays. We get run down, and get sick. We over plan and forget to enjoy the simple moments. We set sky high expectations that leave us disappointed. Then, we get the aptly timed chance to resolve to change our ways for the upcoming year. Another fresh start. It feels good to shed the excess of the holiday season, in favor of a calmer, quieter, more pared down version of our  selves, and our routines as we head in to January. It's like running on a treadmill that suddenly stops. Outside my house, next to the trash can, lays the naked Christmas tree, tossed out, like a disgraced politician, having enjoyed it's bedazzled moment in the living room. I've made a few resolutions, subconsciously, I suppose, over the last few  weeks that have helped me to get from one moment to the next. "When things slow down, I'll start a designated laundry day," "Next semester I'm definitely not going to attempt to read every single assignment," "I'm reducing my battles with big D strictly, to ones regarding hygiene and safety." When I really stop to consider what I'd like to resolve for the upcoming year, I'm humbled by what my heart truly tells me, and I'd be willing to bet that I'm not alone in my wish to be a more patient and playful mother, a kinder and more appreciative wife, a more frequent good samaratin, and a better steward of my own body, mind and soul. 

January holds the start of yet another semester for me, a daughter's first birthday, a bathroom remodel, a changing career path for my husband and who knows what else. I am so thankful for this brief time of relative calm and opportunity for reflection, for another year gone by, and a new one laid out before me.

Happy New Year.