A Frank Look at Christmas

I was so tired this day after Christmas--emotionally, financially, physically--that I slept a lot of today. It was my turn to sleep late, and I didn't even get up for boot camp. I hate to miss it, but needed pillow time.

I want Christmas to be different next year. I want to be more organized, more peaceful. I can't change the world, but I can change me.

My favorite part of the day was noon Mass. We were a little late, but the gumshoed usher whispered that there were a few seats left in the choir section up front, so H., Punch and I scooted up there. There was no choir at that Mass--just the lead singer and the organist. And they were good. It was great to be so close to the altar, with a forest of evergreens studded with white lights.

Punch behaved well with H. by her side and her American Girl doll from Santa in her arms.

My thoughts, to keep in my pocket for next December. Perhaps I will learn something.

• It is challenging to be a foster mother. Might be understatement of the year. Especially of a little girl who is now seeing her mom two afternoons a week, including today, for one-hour supervised visits. It must be confusing for her. It is confusing for me. I'm trying to step back and remember I can make a difference every day. But when I woke from my Christmas haze today, I was quickly on duty, training Punch how to do magic tricks with the kit Santa brought her...make a blue silk scarf disappear.....put a little red ball in a box and make that vanish, too. Then play hangman. It struck me that I'm old enough to be her grandmother.
• It is beautiful to have family and friends. I am deeply grateful for my sister. And I was happy to have Figgy arrive home on Christmas Eve, slip her presents under the tree and give us gifts of getting Punch into the tub on Christmas morning [to play with the mermaid Barbie she got her] and putting her to bed on Christmas with stories.
• Like Figgy's help, the best gifts don't have price tags. My other jewel memories were H. playing guitar and singing "My Favorite Things" in the morning, Fig whipping up nice vegan chocolate chip pancakes, and the card H. made me.
• I treasure my parents' green and white wedding china. It looks so pretty against the Christmas-red tablecloth.
• If you sit still and listen, it's hard not to cry when singing Christmas songs in church. I cried for Mom, for Dad, for the hope and promise and light that the Baby's birth brings. For the poor couple looking for a place to sleep and having to rest with animals in a manger.
• It's the little moments I cherish. Pointing out to Punch the crowns on the magi in the creche at church. Watching Figgy empty her red and green knit stocking. Hearing Sugar bark for Christmas turkey. Having traditional foods, like nuts and Sis's cream cheese cookies. Trimming my "kitchen tree"--a fragrant rosemary bush from Whole Foods--with blue lights and tiny cupcake ornaments that Figgy brought me from NYC.
• Never mind snow-white ear muffs; next year, wear a hard hat. To ride the curvy road of a complex family life. Of childhood wishes, met and unmet, but brought back to light. Of the fallout from someone's less than perfect past. Take a walk, or go to yoga, or make a smoothie. But wear the hard hat.

Now it's time to rest again. Early morning commitments. Good night.