Christmas 2009

I have survived - just barely- with Daddy in the hospital christmas eve, helping glenda get ready for family christmas, cleaning up for glenda cause she'd spent the night in the hospital with daddy, family christmas dinner, eating ham because we never have pork at my house, opening presents – getting a clown costume and money for my summer vacation, feeling guilty because Kevin didn’t have as many as everyone else, santa activities, forcing everyone to sleep in one room and not allowing anyone else to go back downstairs because Jose was the elf this year and he wasn’t getting up to do it and was sure he’d be up before the boys ( he wasn’t so forcing him to do it before 11 and keeping the boys in the room worked best)little boys who wet the bed because they so didn't have to pee before bedtime, whatever, sleeping with wet pajamas because there was nothing else to sleep in, getting up early, waiting 30 minutes before forcing everyone else to get ready, wondering in what wierd hell Santa leaves all the presents in the bag that I have been carrying around from room to room for 3 days with presents in that the boys have seen instead of taking them out of the bag and putting them in the santa bag purchased specifically for that purpose, shaking my head at how bad boys are at being santa’s helpers, watching the boys open their presents from santa and mamita, papita and mom and dad, feeling guilty because kevin only has one presewnt to open, visiting with the relative no one else wants to visit with, another family christmas, lunch this time and again focus on the ham, playing dirty santa, ending up with two gifts, both of which i like, thank you jodi, the drive home, and last presents between the boys, feeling relieved when Kevin was so happy to see his bike and not upset at all that men’s bikes now come in the color purple, then putting everything away, listening to the children be whiney and happy all at once like kids who’ve been up since 5:30, mostly that 5 year old whose idea of sharing is for him to have it, but since he’s the only one who got toys and not video games everyones all over his stuff, outlining the day ….now, to go hide in the bedroom, read, and sleep until dawn.

Showing the Love in a Family of Open Doors

I often look at the world and say there are two types of people.   It’s really amazing how many times you can really do this well.  There are two types of people….

those who like to get the mail, and those who don’t care

those who like to open gifts, and those who’d rather watch

those who like to read, and those who want to watch tv

those who spend and those who save

and my newest, via Franklin, those who like to have doors open and those who don’t.  Because I’m a very small minded, self centered person, it never occurred to me that there existed in this world, people who wanted to keep their door shut.  But, apparently there are.  Franklin is a door shut kind of person.  Right now, he’s rooming with my nephew Lanny, who is a door open kind of person (apparently a Walker family trait.0  It never occurred to me that except in anger, or sex, door shut was really an option.  I don’t like the door shut, really, i prefer to know what’s happening.  And really, I think shut doors bother me a bit.  What are you hiding, that you have to have a shut door.  Or, if you’re not hiding something,  you must be trying to keep me out.  I don’t even like to keep my classroom door shut when I teach.  I only shut it if hallway noise gets to be too disruptive.  And this even when demon spawn, my supervisor at 11th Street made the shut door mandate.  i risked it all to keep the door open.

so anyway, Franklin is a closed door kind of person.  He keeps his bedroom door closed.  And is pretty grumpy if anyone enters into his domain.  You’d think that anyone who grew up in a third world country, where in many cases doors and windows are optional that he wouldn’t be so closed doorish – shoot, my brother in law, Eliseo, has a really nice house and the only doors in his house were bathroom and doors that were made of iron for the front door.  But apparently my perception of Franklin’s El Salvador experience is skewed, because his door is closed (byth literally and figuratively, but that’s a whole other blog).  So, Franklin is a door closed kind of guy, and that closed doorish personality transcends all concepts of personal security when he’s in the bathroom. He latches the door and locks the door (via doorknob).  And this leads us to the Walker family tradition of showing the love.

Last year, when my brother came to visit, he took great pleasure in dousing Elijah with cold water in the bathtub.  Elijah was really mad, but I just told him that is how Jason shows you that he loves you.  Elijah, upon learning this new custom,  has really enjoyed showing his love to others throughout the year.  It has, in deed, been his great joy.  Imagine our delight when we discovered yesterday that Franklin had left the door tot eh bathroom only partially locked – latched, but not locked.  And I reminded Elijah that he hadn’t had the chance to show Franklin how much he loved him.  Now, Elijah, never one for grand gestures, was just going to show Franklin a small cereal bowl full of love.  But really, what kind of gesture is that.  It’s no gesture, I say.  So, I got the blender pitcher and and filled it up with some 40 ounces of pure love.  And let Elijah enjoy his moment of brotherly bonding. 

Imagine my surprise when a few moments later, I heard a loud crash in the hallway.  Franklin had snatched the blender pitcher from Elijah, and then throwing it with enough force that it shattered the bottom portion, after first bouncing off Elijah’s back.  And then i realized that there were two t ypes of people…

people who think it’s funny, though not always pleasant, to splash or get splashed with cold water..// and Franklin who is at the to take much of the joy out of almost anything…I really have seen such a dramatic display since I was in my teenage years.   Who knew really, that boys could be such drama queens.  And my response, is really, to find every opportunity to show him the love for years to come.   Because if there is anyone who needs a little good old fashined demonstrations of affection disguised as water, it is definitely Franklin.

Flattery will get you....

A few years ago, my first at Alvaton, I signed up for secret santa. It would be a great way to get to know someone, become part of the community, blah blah blah. I was lucky, because I drew Brenda's name from the mailbox. I didn't really know her, but she seemed to be a really nice, friendly person. She seemed like someone that I would like to get to know better. So, I set forth to be the best secret santa ever. I didn't just leave little gifts, like almost every day. I left notes, and letters and stories. When I made cornflake candy for her, I told her a story about my grandmother and how important those christmas goodies she had made for me were. I shared my memories with her. And to be honest, it really felt a little like flirting, and to this day that's what I called it. It sort of encompassed that college, meet someone you really like and stay up all night talking sort of feelng. I love that feeling, and you really never get to have them as often when you're older, and seldom when you're married. Spouses seem to frown upon those sort of moments...go figure. It was a perfect secret santa season, without a doubt. And, knowing that I'd never live up to it, I just didn't do it again. But each year, Brenda comes and asks me for a little story. And I feel so bad, because, I don't always have something to write. Apparently, I'm not a long term flirter, I'm just a short term, slam, bam thank you ma'am kind of gal... who knew. So, then, Brooke Gadberry, the kindergarten teacher for whom Mrs. Cross is an aide, learned about my blog, and then decided to print the entire thing out and put in a binder to give to Mrs. Cross for Christmas. And I was simply floored. It's as good as being published I think. When someone reads and then says that it was great. Or someone finds my blog and then sits and reads all 5 years worth of entries. I am touched, beyond measure. And then still sitting here thinking, but I don't really have anything to say. To which I must then respond, I suppose, I guess I say nothing really well. So I think Brenda and Brooke for giving me a Christmas moment that I'll never forget, just that feeling of being appreciated and valued - not for my oh so luscious body but for my mind..damnit.. and hopefully, there'll be much more to come.

Small Blessings

Last week, on the way to school, we were rounding the corner, and a mother deer with her two babies walked across the road.  And being me, I stopped the car, and we watched them until they walked into the nearby woods.  Then Elijah and I talked, all to briefly, about how such moments need to be cherished and enjoyed, because they are fleeting when they occur, and don’t happen often enough.  The conversation has been rolling around in my mind since.  Then last night, the history channel had a special that was discussing the Mayan calendar and it’s predictions that the world would end, as we know it, on December 21, 2012.  At which point, Elijah asked that we change the channel because those doom and gloom shows really get under his skin.  But, that got me to thinking about how you really never know when time will end for you, and how, like watching the deer crossing the road, we have to look at each moment and enjoy it and value it, because once gone, it is gone forever.  So, I thought I might add some of the moments that I remember and cherish so that I might not ever forget.

Elijah counting to 10 while I was pushing when Isaiah was born – even though he almost gagged when he saw all the blood, he was there and excited.

The memories of my grandaddy that come flooding in every single time i hear I’ll Fly Away.

Hearing Elijah and Isaiah get tickled and belly laugh every time…it makes me feel so grateful that we had two instead of just one.

Every birthday, anniversary and mother’s day card that i have gotten from Jose because it is only in those cards that he takes the time to say sweet things, like he’s grateful for me and our life together.

The fact that I was able to get a picture of Elijah, Daddy and Grandaddy Walker even though Grandaddy didn’t know who we were.

Any moment that I am moved to tears in a moment of sentiment – even though it’s like a million times more often since motherhood than before…

Having an entire week with my parents and my kids and no arguments, fussing, tension.

The way Isaiah runs to the door when I come home and asks if I brought him something, and how glad he is when i did.

Having conversations about the way the world works, or history, or friends and family with Elijah.  I am so grateful that I like him and that he likes me and that we can have fun together.

Sitting up until 1:30 to talk with Franklin about daily junk, after spending an hour giving him a lecture and telling him how mad he made me.

Isaiah’s grinning, smiling eyes, his willingness to hug and kiss, his love of reading and learning and school.

Jose playing with Lutos when we first moved into the house so it looked like they were dancing.

Elijah and Isaiah picking up a squiggling lizards tail and running about trying to find someone to show it to.

Isaiah and Big Mama sitting outside and waiting for the ducks to come, which they did everytime they heard his voice, in droves.

Elijah’s effective use of sarcasm.

Elijah’s conversations with me about everything from hair growing on his picala, to what happened in his video game, to the kids at school and my prayer that we’ll have them forever.

I could go on.  And I am aware that my moments tend to be child specific, but truly, my life tends to be child specific – and i’m o.k. with that.  So, I challenge you…add your moments and share them.

Tis the Season

Christmas time.  This was my blog request topic from Judy Corbin.  And I’m pretty sure that she was thinking that perhaps I should wax poetic about Christmas being all about the birth of Christ and family and the like.  But it’s hard for me to take that line since Christmas has never been about those things for me.  Well, family was always a part of it.  But really, you don’t appreciate family until you are considerably old er, and members of your family begin to die.  Until that happens, you take family for granted, whether you mean to or not. 

Christmas for me has always been more about Christmas Spirit.  You know, the Charlie Brown Christmas, the Grinch’s heart grew three times that day, Frosty was fine, and Rudolph saved the misfit toys kind of spirit.  It’s an on and off season for me.  Some  years, I’m so excited about Christmas that I can’t even sit still.  And just as likely, I’ll be indifferent to the whole event.  Being one ruled more by moods than anything else, I’ve never been very good at figuring out why some years Christmas is great and others it’s merely average.  I think in part, the mediocrity of the season emerges with the stress at trying to make everyone else’s Christmas something special.  I want to try to find the perfect gift for the boys so that I can have that moment of joy when they open the gift.  Of course, that stress is compounded when I have to find a gift from myself and Jose, Big Mama, Papita and Mamita, as well as give a few hints and clues to the big man in red himself.  I don’t stress over the money too much, I stress instead over hiding how much I spend from Jose, who is mostly likely amazed that the dollar continues to stretch so very far, and what a good shopper I must be to get so much for my buck. 

To be perfectly honest the past couple of years, I have blamed my dirth of holiday spirit on my tree.  My small, pathetic tree.  The tree that is only 1/2 has big as my old tree.  My old tree which was perfect.  My old tree which was tall, and wide, and wonderful…sigh…i miss that tree and can’t afford a new one that was of similar size and dimension.  But soon.  Maybe if it snowed more it would help me get into the Christmas groove.  I am grateful every afternoon for the north pole radio, because music is always that magical influencer.  It’s the best part of a church service – to be fair, it’s probably the only part of the church service that i actually listen to.  But music is the mood affecter.  And I’m always ready for Christmas when I hear carols. 

Maybe it’s all about getting older.  And knowing that Christmas is more like sex than you’d ever thought.  Doesn’t matter how good it is, it’s all oven in 10 minutes and then you’re left with nothing but a mess to clean up.  Maybe with age and perspective, we forget how to live in the moment – whether it be the moment of anticipation or the moment of joy – and we see it from too far away and how it all fits into the main scheme of things.  Maybe it’s because I don’t know what i want, or what to ask for.  And not needing anything means not expecting anything great under the tree.  Which seems uber selfish, but also very much the child.  I know there is still a child within me, and as I sit here writing trying to figure out why the Christmas blahs hit more and more, that child is inside of me banging about, jumping, dancing in her seat and singing sleigh bells, loudly.  And I hope that that child is stronger than the adult.