-
Almost Grinch
My heart is not three sizes too small
But three sizes too big
You wouldn’t be able to tell, though, because I have dreams about ruining Christmas
Before Christmas I do think about stealing all of the presents worldwide to see what would really happen on Christmas day
How would Christmas day shift, how would the lead up to Christmas change if we weren’t seeking and giving trinkets to our most cherished family and friends?
How could the gradual slow down, grinding to a peaceful halt, give us more space to focus on each other?
I would trade your gift for a heartfelt walk or a cup of coffee any day of the week
That’s not to say that I do not appreciate your time and effort in thinking about me, but I also know that time and effort is mixed up in a giant snow globe of holiday stress
I’d like to take that off your plate, and, guess what, you don’t even have to hang with me, if you don’t want to
For the first time in my life this week, I baked bread and sent it overnight in a red bubble wrapped box
I showed up at the post office and was the person buying bubble wrap, tape and boxes on the floor figuring it all out like an unprepared teenager before a big presentation
When it was finally together, I paid for all the things and turned around to find another woman sitting on the floor, in the same, exact predicament.
I looked at her and handed her the tape and bubble wrap
She smiled at me behind her mask, I saw it in the crinkle of her eyes
And I was reminded of the true Christmas spirit, what I am yearning for this time of year
Giving one another what we really need: Kindness, generosity, love
-
Be kind and stand up
Tonight at bedtime you looked at me sweetly with your perfect face and asked me if I could stay for a minute longer.
Sometimes I’m so tired that I say I can’t because I just want to make it to the couch without answering one more question.
But tonight, you asked. And I stayed.
You finally had me alone, your mama, without little sister wailing or vying for my attention, to be fully present. You took the opportunity to bravely share what’s not kind in your world, what you’re experiencing, and what perplexes you.
While you speak I’m reminded and honored that you trust me enough to share your feelings. And I want you to know that I don’t take that lightly.
I listen deeply and hear you, and what you need to know about me is that I’ll always show up for you. You were born wise and deeply kind, and are completely and so genuinely shocked with people you meet in the world who would not choose to exude kindness at every moment.
How can I tell you that it’s not you who needs to change? How do I explain that people are complex and come with their own uncontrollable baggage?
What I’ve never needed to tell you is to continue to be kind when others aren’t. You just show up that way. Every day.
I can’t change the world around you, but I’m starting to give you the tools to bravely move through it. I want you to know this: You can be kind and stand up for yourself.
No one ever taught me that, but since I’m practicing this myself, will you practice right along with me?
And, I promise I’ll be better at staying “just a minute longer”.
-
Poseidon’s rage
One day when you are both teenagers I think I’ll miss the days when I could break you out of a bad mood in no time at all. Your moods change as often as waves upon the sand. One moment we’re living the perfect beach day and the next you are embodying Poseidon’s unpredictable rage upon our home.
And when what happens, I can swoop you up into my arms while all hell is breaking loose at dinner and twirl you around to Let it go until you forget that you were screaming ferociously seconds ago at the offensive chicken on your plate.
What will happen when our go-to fart jokes are no longer funny? The joy of an 8 year old laughing harder than I’ve ever seen in my life when we call him out for letting one rip is irreplaceable. And when you sulk because you’re bored, a simple hair mustache makes it all disappear.
You’ll change one day. And we’ll adapt with more refined tools, twirls replaced with walks and fart jokes switched out for late night talks. And, when it comes, I vow to always try to help you and never make you feel like having emotions means you are unstable or that something is wrong with you. I’ll sit with you in any emotion, just like your incredibly wise papá does for me, every day. -
The creativity trap
There’s a dangerous creativity trap that nobody told me about and I fell into it. For years. And it goes like this: You do not have time to write, so you’ll never be a real writer.
So, naturally, I began seeking innovative ways to carve out time for creativity because how the hell would I ever find time amidst the beautiful mess that is raising children.
I spent months writing and applying for a writer-in-residence program and found blissful writing retreats located in a log cabin on the side of a mountain that you must hike barefoot and blindfolded to in order to prove you really want it. Now, on the surface, these ideas are wonderful, but have one thing in common: they are far-fetched, one-off avenues to creativity. Even if I had landed the writer-in-residence program (which, I clearly did not, and have the rejection letter to prove it), there would have been a finite start and ending date.
What I’m just now beginning to tell myself, and believe, is that a real writer is a person who writes. Every day. And, it can be different every single day. Some days I’ll barely find the will to scribble a few sentences down on a sticky note in between removing candy cane sludge from my toddler’s hair and remembering to respond to that text from ten days ago. Yet, there will be other days where I’ll add a few paragraphs to my book or write a little poem that’s been swirling around in my brain. But most importantly, my writing doesn’t even have to be GOOD or GREAT. I can and will become a better writer by the simple act of writing regularly and reminding myself to not fall back into the creativity trap.
-
Like fireflies
And while I write they spin around me like fireflies lighting up the darkness that surrounds me. Each word on the page pulls me further and closer to you, sister, and I break back into reality for a quick second when she approaches me with a book to read or he drops another bucket into his basketball hoop and the vibration shakes me back here and now.
They are dreamlike in appearance and fill me with joy when they enter my atmosphere. I know them as little creatures who will be small for this tiny window of time before they grow up and away and use their light to brighten up the entire world.
But for this brief moment of time, they are mine and selfishly I keep them close to shield me from the storm that erupts on the page when I think of what happened to you.
-
Who would you be?
Who would you be
If you didn’t throw cold spaghetti
Into my hair at dinner
How would I laugh
If you weren’t there
Staring at me with your two teeth smile
Your hair is wild and your eyes are wide
Shaped like a strong woman who came before you
You are teaching me, so concretely and consistently, to not take myself seriously
Or, anything at all
You turn a tense moment into belly laughter in a blink of an eye
Navigating this life with humor way beyond your three years
A shapeshifter
Pirate armed with a diaper cannon
Black belt ju jitsu master pinning your brother to the ground
Hair monster to avoid eating dinner
Cowgirl on an invisible horsey bah dah bah dah bah dah
Ayahuasca hippie in a hut chanting “guacamole”
I always know where you’ve been
because when you leave a room
You leave laughter in the air
