Fade to White

Outside my window the wind is howling and the snow is swirling so thick that I can barely see the house across the street. Ordinarily, I love a good blizzard. But not when I'm expecting 25 people for a New Year's Eve bash that's been in the works for 2 months. Timing.

This is actually a perfect cap to a year of swirling craziness. Reflecting back, there were some great times. Skiing as a family in February and March. Cuttyhunk. Pete's promotion. Another prosperous year for Nuka. A great new nanny. Many new friends. But there was also a whole lot of churn and anxiety.

I've been struggling with the holiday blues, with the dark feelings that creep in, especially this time of year. I recognize that there is an element of choice to my moods - sulking is a choice, fear is a choice, anger is a choice. So my challenge to myself for the New Year is to make better choices about how to handle the inevitable stressors - to focus on the bright, shiny moments and let go of the dark, angry ones. Let the swirling snow pile up where it will, and appreciate that I am safe and warm. And most of all, remember that I already have everything I need to let in the light. It is simply a matter of choice.

Believe

I'm feeling particularly dull this holiday season.  I've gone through all the motions, but I can't quite get in touch with the joy.  I think this is fairly common, especially among over-achieving moms of young children who literally spend every spare moment from Thanksgiving to Dec 24th making lists, baking, shopping, decorating, hiding, wrapping, menu planning, shopping for things we forget, making new lists, wrapping some more, and constantly anxious that we've forgotten that one critical piece and that our oversight will ultimately send the entire house of holiday cards crashing down.

I sat through Sofia's adorable preschool holiday play totally dry-eyed.  Typically I am a weepy mess.  Ditto for flying santa, for the 12 days of christmas sing-a-long at the neighborhood holiday party.  Usually I am a sentimental wreck, but this year I feel like I'm in a bubble, watching the whole thing unfold through a dirty window.  

I'm not typically one to succumb to the holiday blues, but this year they've gripped me.  So, if you happen to run into Clarence the Angel or Buddy the Elf, or even Bad Santa...could you send them my way?  

Thanksgiving

Sofia is 72 hours out of the OR and climbing on furniture, shaking her booty to High School Musical, and eating turkey like a Pilgrim.

When we brought Sofia home from the hospital, she and her sister hugged so hard I lost my breath for a moment.

Tomorrow Pete will lug the 15 rubbermaid tubs full of Christmas flair out of the basement.

My wineglass is full and the DVR is loaded.

Game on.

I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue.

Perhaps I should elaborate, lest my 3 faithful readers suffer from concern that I am somehow on the wagon. Don't worry, Monica. I am doing my best to prove that liquor stores are recession-proof.

But honestly, the dread and fear won't go away, no matter how much I dull it with alcohol or sublimate it with loud music, exercise, caffeine, food. Nothing works.

Sofia's teacher came up to me this morning and asked that I keep her informed next week. Then she said that Sofia has seemed a little off this week, crying at weird times, kind of weepy. She talks about the surgery very matter-of-fact but I think she is picking up on our unease. Poor thing is trying to put a brave face on. She's my girl in so many ways.

From what I have heard, the surgery takes about 4 hours. I could sniff a lot of glue in 4 hours.

Perspective

I am totally losing my shit.

Less than a week now until my sweet baby goes under the knife and I am a wreck. I can't even talk about it without getting teary. And this is so unlike me - I am usually such a cool cucumber...rational and calm. Right? But not when it's my kid.

So tonight we dropped Emma at CCD and then headed to Target, the happiest place on earth. I needed paper towels (not a one left in the house, see my previous post about my domestic management challenges...) and we also needed to pick up some underwear for Sofia post-surgery. The incision is about where a C-section incision would be, and I spoke to another mom who's daughter had the ureter reimplantation surgery and she mentioned that she had to buy underwear several sizes larger so that it wouldn't irritate the scar. So that was our mission.

But of course, it's Target, you never go there just for the items on your list, so I told Fia that we were going to also pick up a treat for her for the hospital. And good sport that she is, she said "yeah mom, and you can give it to me in the hospital when I wake up."

Oh my sweet, precious child. Yesssss! Mommy will give you anything you like, anything in the world.

And then she says, "And mom? When people visit me in the hospital? They will bring me treats too, right?"

And I say "Of course they will, sweetie."

And she says, "Mom? Can you write a note for that? To make sure people know that they have to bring me treats?"

And I said, "How about this? Dear Friends and Family...If you come to visit Sofia in the hospital please remember to bring her a present."

"That's perfect, mom."

At least one of us is staying focused.

Unforgetable

One of the few constants in my life is my unyielding superiority in the field of parental blunders. I forget to pack water bottles in lunch boxes. I almost never host playdates. The nanny knows more of the kids' friends' parents than I do...in fact she does host playdates. We constantly run out of yogurt and I never buy the right kind of cereal. My pancakes are nowhere near as good as daddy's even though they come from the same damn box. I even missed Sofia's first birthday (just by a few hours, I was on an airplane...at least it was flying toward her and not away).

But yesterday I outdid myself. It was the 6th and final day of the living hell I like to call "The nanny goes to Mexico." When she brought up the idea of a vacation, I played it so cool. Of course she should take the week off. They are my children after all. I can handle a week of juggling bus stops, preschool, acting class, dance class, lunches, homework, laundry. I'll even take them for a flu shot. My full-time plus job? I'll squeeze it in there, no problem.

Last week started OK. They were off school Tuesday, so I took the day off and took them rock climbing, to a friend's house for lunch, to the flu shot clinic, and to the polls (they both voted for Brocco!) I even managed to meet an old friend for dinner that night. Easy peasy. Then I woke up the next morning half dead with what I assume was a reaction to the flu shot. So add to the work/kid juggling act a truckload of Zicam, kleenex & vitamin C. I got through the week in triage mode, and managed to hit the one deadline that I had no leeway on (all other projects got stuck in neutral). And then it was yesterday. My last day sans nanny. Piece of cake.

Typically, Mondays are hectic for me. I usually start with my favorite gym class of all time - cardio sport. It is hard to explain, does "ultimate death match for 30-something moms" make any sense? You just have to try it. So normal Mondays start with putting Emma on the bus, dropping Fia at preschool, hitting the gym for 90 minutes of sheer exhiliaration, then rushing home to prep for weekly staff meeting and all the other crap I do for a paycheck. Sofia has lunch bunch, and the nanny usually picks her up at 1, brings her home, and manages the kids while I work. Simple. So yesterday, I got it all right...right up until 1:15. Sanne walked into my office for our staff meeting at 1:30 just as the phone rang. I looked at the caller ID - Room 2 Grow. Hmmm....oh shit. I pick up the phone "Oh crap, Miss Carol, I totally forgot. On my way." I could hear the disdain in her voice. Miss Carol is in her mid-60s. Raised 4 kids. Has been running her own preschool for 20 years. I bet she never abandons anyone.

I rush to the school, blurting out to the teachers and Sofia "I am so sorry...can't believe I forgot my own child." Miss Denise shoots me a "you fucking moron" look and says in perfect preschool teacher happy voice, "It's Okaaay. You were stuck in traffic. Sofia wasn't worried." All the while shooting daggers at me. Poor pathetic mother. Doesn't even have the decency to cover up her stupidity with a nice white lie.

Next time, I'm going to Mexico with the nanny.

Caddyshack

A text from my brother this morning reads...

"I am officially board certified. You can finally stop asking if I am a REAL doctor."

Oh, little brother. How sweetly optimistic.

I will believe you are a REAL doctor only after you pioneer a surgical technique to reattach the hair you amputated from my Barbies' heads in 1977.

Or buy me a Mercedes.