The elf has landed

The spawn were all aglow today because once the tree was up, Elfred would know to come. Talk about pressure to get it all done. My mom bequeathed to me so many beautiful ornaments and holiday mementos. We have a 13 house Christmas village and two trees. It was a lot to do even if it was not as much as others. And, FYI, I do not do real trees. At. All. I was scarred by German pine needles going through my feet at any early age.

So tonight Elfred reappears. My super adorable daughter spawn left him a letter. And the son spawns when to bed more easily BC Elfred was on his way.

The first night is not the one to mess up (there’s plenty of time for that). So here you go…

Christmas Reflections

It has been three Christmas seasons without my mother and it is still hard to wrap my head around her absence. This year I was able to celebrate with many of mom’s relics and ornaments, making her seem closer (I picked up her things last May). I told stories of each ornament and it’s history to my children and they appreciated the tales and stories, as their memories of Nana Cat are growing faint.

One of the ways I tried to incorporate mom into the holidays this year was with Elfred, I also tried my hand at wrapping like mom. She perfected the art of seamless wrapping and created bows that Martha Stewart would envy. She owned several present wrapping technique books and even more bow wrapping books which helped in her present creations. Mine were not as glamorous, but seeing them beneath the tree warmed my heart.

Another way I tried to incorporate Mom into the season was by making my children’s Christmas dreams come true, like she did every year. Hearing their ooh’s, aah’s and giggles MADE the holiday season brighter. Seeing their delight in their presents– both in those they received and in those they gave — was awesome. My mother ALWAYS included everyone in the gift giving, even if we weren’t aware.

Now I am busy cleaning up the holiday mess and working on thank you notes (another mom tradition). My holidays will never be the same without mom, but I am blessed with a wonderful husband that makes all of my dreams come true, and three amazing children who have generous, big hearts like my mother.

I hope you all had a wonderful holiday season with your families. Hold tight to the memories you make, take lots of pictures, and always end the day with “i love you.” You never know when the last time you say something will be.

See the picture below? Do you see a crease? My mother would be so proud!

Elf on the Shelf, the (almost) final post

How sad am I to see our beloved Elfred return to his home in the North Pole. As a family it has been an exciting, daily joy for all of us. I have enjoyed watching the kids talk to him, search for him, and enjoy him. Elfred has brought additional Christmas spirit into our home.

Now, I realize that Elfred is supposed to return to the North Pole tonight. I get it. Santa drops off the toys and picks up the Elf, but I’m a sap and my kids want one more day… so since it takes an entire day to deliver all the gifts around the world, Santa can swing by and pick up his friend as he travels home. This will allow the kids one more chance to love Elfred, and the bonus of actually touching him for the few hours before he leaves.

This is the letter Elfred has left:

December 25^th, 2012

Dear Riley, Lyndie and Joe,

I have had so much fun being a part of your family for the last month. You guys sure have a lot of fun around here. Sorry for any messes I made along the way. Guess I got caught up in the fun too!

Because you all have been so good to me, Santa Claus has allowed me to stay a few extra hours after all the Christmas magic has happened. He’s going to pick me up on his way back to the North Pole after his last delivery. I hope you have enjoyed all of the presents! I know there were lots of them because I told Santa what good children you are!

Lucky for us, Santa will lift my magic until he picks me up on his way back to the North Pole. Until he comes, it is okay to touch me, hug me and kiss me goodbye, just be sure to share me between all three of you and, whatever you do, don’t leave me on the floor and let Izzy and Abby eat me! When you are finished with your goodbyes put me back on the Christmas tree and I will find my way to the North Pole.

I can’t wait to see you next Christmas season. Be on the lookout for letters from me this year.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Love, Elfred

Ps. Enjoy these presents that will help you keep track of the time until the next time we see each other!

 

Farewell, dear friend. Thank you for the joy you have brought us all.

Christmas Traditions: Part Two

How is everyone? I hope y’all have made it through the holiday season without too much stress.

I cannot believe we have only few days left of Elfred!

Since both our moms have passed, Bu and I have taken to sharing family recipes–from mustard to pralines to cookies to gravy. Oh, I suppose we could go to Google. Or Pinterest. But there is something comforting about knowing that you have a family recipe that’s tried and true.

Like Bu’s mom, my mom also did a whole lot of homemade gift-giving around the holidays. Many of these gifts were family recipes: cookies, fudge, caramel corn. It is only since I decided to give  mostly homemade gifts for Christmas this year that I truly appreciate the effort that she went through–although she made it seem so effortless.

One of the treats my mom would make is the Good Luck Cookie, which is MY ALL-TIME FAVORITE COOKIE. EVER.

A Little History about the Good Luck Cookie: per my Grandmother

My grandmother spent her formative years growing up during the Great Depression. Although her family was quite poor, they fared better than most. On Saturday mornings, my great-grandmother would bake the Good Luck Cookies with help from my great-grandfather. My grandmother would always say that although her parents were not in love when they married, they grew to have a deep and abiding love for one another.

(BTW, I have NO idea where the recipe originated from. More than likely, it came from my great-great grandmother who was from Germany.)

I smile to think of my great-grandmother busting about in the kitchen with my mild-mannered great-grandfather by her side.

A Little History about the Good Luck Cookie: per my Mother

After my great-grandfather died, my great-grandmother moved in with her daughter and grandchildren (i.e., my grandmother and Mom.) According to my mother, my great-grandmother was a loving and gentle person who doted on her grandchildren.

Every year at Christmas time, she would make the cookies and given them to her grandchildren in a special Christmas tin: a roll for each of them. My mother said it was one of her favorite times of the year.

A Little History about the Good Luck Cookie: per me

Like her grandmother, my mother chose to continue the Good Luck Cookie tradition. She only made them at Christmas time, and she always put the cookies in a festive Christmas tin. Until I learned to make the recipe myself, my job was to sprinkle the colored sugar and sprinkles onto the cookies.

Mom: Make sure you sprinkle sugar onto the cookies and not onto the cookie sheet.

(I tended to use a liberal hand.)

Great-Grandmother Catherine’s Good Luck Cookies
1 c sugar
1 c brown sugar
1 lb. butter (four sticks)
3 eggs
1 t vanilla
1 t cinnamon
1/2 t nutmeg
1/4 t cloves
1 t baking soda
pinch of salt
5 1/2 c flour
wax paper
sprinkles (optional)

Melt butter in sauce pan on low heat. Add white and brown sugar. Stir until dissolved. Let cool and add eggs one at a time. In large bowl, add the flour and other dry ingredients. Slowly add in the butter mixture. Add vanilla. Stir until smooth.

Roll out cookies into a roll using wax paper. Batch should usually yield about five rolls. Chill 2-3 hours or until dough is firm. (I usually freeze mine overnight.)

Slice cookies and sprinkle with the toppings of your choice. Bake 350 for 10-12 minutes.

Christmas Traditions

As with Thanksgiving, Christmas was a very special time in our household. My mother had a very strong sense of tradition, and even though I was an adult, my mother still looked forward to creating all of our special Christmas goodies.

On Christmas Eve, we had our customary appetizers: shrimp, ham, Italian beef appetizers, cookies, and whatever else my mom thought might be festive.

One of my mom’s special talents was giftwrapping. When I was little, presents were wrapped with military-precision, festooned with ribbon, and stacked knee-deep underneath the tree.

(Sadly, I do not share my mom’s talent, and it has been noted within the family that I wrap much like my grandmother who valued substance over style.)

In 2007, my Beloved and I were about to exchange our first Christmas presents. I was spending Christmas with my mom and the subject of the gifts came up.

Mom: What did you get Jon for Christmas?

Me: An iPOD!!!!! (I was so excited.)

Mom: Have you wrapped it yet?

Me (in a small voice): No.

Mom: Does Jon know about present-wrapping tendencies and how you wrap like your grandmother?

Me: No. Not yet.

Mom: Would you like me to wrap it for you?

Me: Yes, please. BUT you have to promise that you won’t tell him that you wrapped it.

My mom wrapped Jon’s present counseling me on the importance of hospital corners and curling ribbon. I was 33-years old.

(In the matter of full disclosure, I have also passed off desserts my mom made–with her permission, of course.)

(In the continued matter of full disclosure, I also hoard airplane pretzels, peanuts, and complimentary mints at restaurants. I carry a big purse–just like my grandmother.)

Christmas

One of the things I love best is being able to create traditions of my own:

• My Beloved and I go to a Christmas Tree farm.
• We pick out a tree when I can longer feel my feet.
• My Beloved wraps the lights around the tree, and I decorate it using the decorations from my childhood while watching my favorite Christmas movies: Christmas Vacation, A Christmas Story, Bad Santa, and Die Hard.
• I wrap Christmas gifts for the kiddos.

Then I call my mom:

Me: Hi. It’s Me.

Mom: Hi Me. Whatcha’ doing?

Me: Decorating the tree.

Mom: Did you hang the Sucrets box you made when you were ten?

Me: Yep.

Mom: Did you hang the red bows I made when you were six?

Me: Yep.

Mom: Did you remember to hang the ornaments along the back of the tree and the bottom, so the tree looks even?

Me: Yep.

Mom: I’m going to see you Christmas Eve! I can’t wait!!

Me: Oh, I know!

Christmas 2010

If I’d known that Christmas 2010 was the last time I would see my mom as herself, maybe I would have paid more attention. Been more mindful. Committed every small detail to memory. But I did not know, and neither did she, so we had our typical mom/daughter time, which was always fantastic.

We talked and rehashed old times and memories. (Mom and I are big rehashers.) We talked of big things and small:

Mom: Do you think my hair is too long?

Me: Yes.

We had Christmas dinner with Jon’s parents, and I hugged her extra hard good-bye, and she smelled like Mom: cigarettes, Giorgio, and that indefinable Mom smell that made her Mom.

Christmas 2011

Christmas 2011 was the first Christmas without my mom. For the most part, I managed to make it through the holiday somewhat intact. (Except for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day where I cried and cried and cried–I did not know that a person the size of a hobbit could produce so much snot. Gross, but true.) We put up the tree. I watched my movies and hung my ornaments.

I also developed this weird little ritual with cards. My mom was a huge proponent of homemade cards. I received a card on every major holiday, a card just because she was thinking about me, or a card because it was Wednesday. Naturally, as the holiday began to roll around, I began to think about my Mom’s Christmas card.

Logically, I knew that my mother was dead. But maybe there was some kind out of magic out there, and a card from her  would magically appear. I made crazy deals with the cosmos: “If two out of the three radio stations I listen to play songs I like, there will be a card there when I get home.”

And, of course, there wasn’t.

Christmas 2012

This is going to be the second Christmas without my mom.  And that still sucks.

But you know what? This has been a GREAT year full of amazing people and trips and places and dogs.

And I think magic and miracles still happen.

Back in October, Bu and I took a trip home to Dallas where we spent a lovely afternoon knocking about town with her Aunt Susan. Aunt Susan is a true Texas lady–she possesses a dry wit–and is lovely both inside and out. We had a FABULOUS time.  Aunt Susan and I have bonded over the years with our love of books and the printed word, so imagine my surprise yesterday, when I arrive home, and there is a package for me in the mail!

(I love the mail. I’m always hoping for something good.)

I didn’t recognize the return address, but when I opened the package and saw who it was from…it was like the magic had been there.

(I cried a little because I cry about happy things.)

The other wonderful thing: my Beloved and I went to Atlanta for the weekend where my baby cousin was getting married. It’s hard to believe she’s old enough to be married when I think of her as a little girl. I got to hang out with my favorite aunts and uncle and my other baby cousin–and what I love best is the relationship both of my aunts have with their daughters: they are so close and love each other so much.

I hope everyone is enjoying the Christmas season. To those of you–if this is the first Christmas without your mom (or parent), a special hug to you.

xoxo,

Meme

Behind door #1

This weekend I watched a documentary about the artifacts from the 9/11/2001 terror attacks. During the documentary there was an interview with Jules and Gedeon Naudet who made this documentary. I remember watching this documentary shortly after the attacks and then again at the ten-year anniversary. One of the moments that stands out for me is when, after the first tower collapsed, an elevator door suddenly opened and several people walk out to a new world, unaware of the catastrophe that had occurred while they were stuck in the elevators.

In many ways I can relate my grief to those people’s experience. I have been holed up, seemingly unaware of everything else that is going on for the past 3 1/2 years. Only recently have the proverbial elevator doors opened for me (probably a result of a recent trip home –which is for another post). And as I stepped out of those doors I realized the effects of my mother’s death extend so much further than just me. My world is not the only world that has been shattered. My dad, my aunt, my brothers, my husband, my children, my friends… we have all reacted to this profound loss in our own way.

So much has changed since I got on this “elevator” and the world is a much different place now that the doors have opened. I realize that my grief has consumed a great deal of my life for the past 3 1/2 years. The tunnel vision of this grief has blinded me from seeing pain in my immediate family – how broken we are both as a family and as individuals and how we all are fighting our way back to “normal.”

I wonder if this is part of the healing process — seeing your heart open up again and trying to return to the person you once were; finally recognizing the passage of time and what has occurred during that time; feeling the heartache but not being overwhelmed by it (at least some of the time). I wonder if those same individuals who came off of the tower one elevators have experienced similar moments in their lives as they have healed or anyone else for that matter.

Home Cookin’

One of the best things about my mom was her cooking.

Nothing offers more comfort to me than biting into my mom’s Thanksgiving stuffing or mainlining her split-pea soup.

Bu and I love to trade recipes–especially those that belong to our mothers. I know if I’m stuck at a loose end, with three ingredients in the house, and one pan, Bu will have an arsenal of recipes at the  ready–many of which belonged to her mother.

Have a fave mom recipe?

Feel free to share !

A Response: See What’s Become of Me

If you saw me on January 16, 2011, you’d think I was a young woman without a care in the world. You would see a girl and her Beloved walking around a Home and Garden show: she–thinking about a possible closet makeover–and he–thinking about a water filtration system. She was envying a girl’s Burberry boots. He was appraising outdoor landscaping ideas.

They spent time poking around downtown stores and eventually decided on Italian for dinner.

Certainly, there were cares in the world: work, bills, the loss of a pet, Christmas decorations that had yet to be stored.

But on that day in those moments, life was sweet. A perfect day.

I remember that Sunday because it was the last day my mom was alive.

Which isn’t to say I haven’t had good days since then–even days that I’ve called perfect. I have.

It has been approximately a year-and-a-half since my mom died.

I can scarcely believe how much time has passed. Not that how much time has passed, but how quickly it has.

I don’t think time heals all wounds as that adage might have us believe, but rather, that time simply passes.

Nor–as I’m coming to learn do we simply “get over” something due to the passage of time. Perhaps the initial shock passes. The punch to the gut. But the grief and loss are still there. Which I am learning to deal with (with some help).

It is sometimes hard to talk about grief. Whether it’s grief from a death, end of a relationship,  job loss. I think most people are comfortable with grief in a finite timeline: “Well, it’s been six months.”  I have been that person.

If you saw me now, you’d see a young woman: a trifle thinner than she was last year. She smiles. She laughs. She talks (too much) about her dog and could probably best you in a s’more-eating contest. She’s probably too emotionally invested in Sephora.com. She talks to her BFF, Bu, daily. Her Beloved has landscaped the backyard.

And she’s pretty happy.

The loss of her mom is omnipresent, however. Because her life is altered.

She knows that her mom has died, but like, Bu, will think, “I need to ask my mom about that.”

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I don’t think that viewpoint is that uncommon. I think–especially–after the first few years we have lost someone: the desire to call, to connect, to see them in public is simply there. Or to have experiences that evoke those memories. Trips with family. A ride in the car. A song. A blade of grass.

After a conversation with a friend, I cannot listen to Train’s, “Hey Soul Sister” and not think of my mom.

We get there. We’ll get there.

 

 

 

 

 

Time time time

I was walking my dog the other day and thinking about the doll collection that my mother started for me. So many beautiful dolls that now all belong to my little girl. One doll in particular stands out in my mind — my custom cabbage patch made by my mom for my 12th birthday. It has blond hair and blue eyes, just like me, and is adorable. My daughter now plays with it.

So as I was walking and thinking about my cabbage patch doll it dawns on me that I should have my mom sign the bottom of my doll, just like the “real” cabbage patch dolls. Her version would be branded just like the originals. Then it hits me. Mom’s gone. She can’t sign anything, let alone a doll she made over 25 years ago for me.

It is amazing to me that three years later I can still have fleeting “Mom is still alive” moments. This happened  a lot right after she passed, practically every day. I’d wake up in the morning and for a few brief seconds I would not remember, then CRASH. The stabbing pain in my heart would return. But time has kept on and, while the pain is still there, it is not as acute as it once was.

Meme and I had a long conversation about this and she remarked that it would be impossible for our bodies to sustain the acute grief pain for any prolonged period of time. I agree. I also believe that our mind protects us from all kinds of pain, which is why we have those moments of, for lack of a better word, denial memory. Just like I have physically forgotten the pain of childbirth, I have physically forgotten the initially acute pain of losing my mother. Now when I have the random thought that my mother is still alive, I feel a stab in my heart, but it’s not the same; just like I can have a random bodily pain that reminds of childbirth, but is also not the same. That has to be why, even three years later, I can briefly forget that Mom is gone.

What do you think?

Neil Diamond Rocks!!

I’m actually in the middle of another post, but decided to STOP THE PRESSES because I wanted to talk about my unapologetic love affair with Neil Diamond.

Last night, he performed here in St. Paul, and I eagerly attended  his attendance with the enthusiasm of a 15-year old seeing Justin Bieber.

(Not that I could recognize a Justin Bieber song.)

(And, sorry, Justin: I give you five years before you’re performing at Grand Casino Mille Lachs.)

The thing with Neil is that people give me shit–sorry Neil–obviously, not everyone has taste–about my unabashed Neil love. As a 38-year old woman, I get comments: “What are you, 80?”

So let us circle back to last night: the Neil crowd is certainly a kinder, gentler concert-goer type of folk. Those of us in Neil t-shirts nod to one another in a certain kind of Neil solidarity.

And then the show started.

🙂 YAY Neil!! (Sorry to the older couple next to me–I  probably yelled in your ear the entire time.)

When I was seven-years old, I saw Neil in concert. It was my first concert. I wore my very favorite white dress with the navy polka-dots. I got to stay up past my bed time. I went to Rosemont Horizon in Chicago, IL. I was with my mom, dad, and grandmother.

When the lights dimmed and the concert started, I was entranced. “Forever in Bluejeans” came on, and that was that.

I will always love Neil That Much More for getting me out of a half-day of second grade.

When my Beloved bought me Neil tickets back in 2008, you had thought he had procured the Hope Diamond.

________________________________________________________________________________________

When I lost my mom, I lost some of my joy. Just the joy of being.

And now in 2012, for the third time, I am back again. Hanging out at the Xcel Center smiling the whole time.

Neil is green kool-aid, playing freeze-tag, capturing frogs and lighting bugs, and feeling the love of family. Neil is about listening to “Cracklin’ Rose” and having contests with my friend, Katie, and who looked cuter sleeping (me!) okay (her!). Neil is about the time when I loved “Love On The Rocks” and had no idea what it meant. And about those pesky flowers. And how no one brings them. Anymore.

And the love of his grandmother in “America.” (Which brought tears to my eyes.)

Neil transcends. He is the Tune.

He brings some of that joy back.

Love,

Little girl in that Polka-dot Dress