Shopping and Preparing Like The Dickens - Christmas 2010

Like my literature-related pun in the title? No...oh well, off to better reading.

This is the busiest time of the year by far. It's much worse than back to school because I'm shopping and preparing for everyone I know, not just those to whom I've given birth.

There's shopping, wrapping, baking, planning, and explaining to the kid who Santa Claus really is. But more on that later.

The kid's teacher needs yet another mug (everyone always gets the teacher a mug, right? that's the rule, isn't it?), my grandmother needs yet another sweater that she'll never wear, and my cousin needs yet another set of pretty jammies (I know she wear regular clothes, but I've only ever seen her wear the jammies I give her). I managed to find what I think are the most expensive girls panties on the Eastern Seaboard, but though I got a great bargain because they were buy 4, get 2 free. I went to buy the kid a winter coat and instead bought her a faux fur leopard skin jacket. Yeah, because faux fur leopard skin is just the thing to keep you warm in a blizzard...NOT!!! I bought all sorts of cookies, but didn't really have anyone to give them to, and since my mom is the Christmas Cookie Baking Nazi, I really had some nerve BUYING cookies. When she saw what I was buying, she gave me a frumpy look and then marched off to plan my accidental death by way of the Kitchen-Aid mixer.

This year, after all the emotional and financial turmoil, I am really making a point of counting my blessings and getting into the spirit of the season. I listen to beloved Christmas music and remember those magical Christmas moments of my childhood.

Ex and I sat down with the kid last week and explained the story of St. Nicholas and that a jolly man in a red suit is not coming through the patio door with presents (hey, I don't have a chimney, I had to be creative with the architectural design of my house, ok?). She was really bummed, but then told us she figured it out last year. That little stinker!! Ex and I proceeded to tell her that she was now a guardian of the story, that she had to keep her knowledge about who brings the presents to herself and not repeat it under any circumstances. That's when she got the devilish grin on her face.

I'm missing my maternal grandparents. I always do around this time of year. We made a HUGE Italian fish dinner every Christmas Eve and it just hasn't been the same since they passed away. It was the one day of the year that Grandma let Grandpa use her kitchen. They taught me to de-vein shrimp when I was 5 years old and by 8 years old, I was the reigning de-veining queen. Grandma would pour me a cup of coffee and I'd happily clean shrimp for hours.

Then, there was the Christmas I got Terry, my wire fox terrier. He was the greatest Christmas present I ever got, hands down. He cemented in me a love of dogs that is still with me today.

Then there was the first Christmas Ex and I lived together. We got this great tree and I cooked Christmas dinner.

Christmas can also be heart-breaking. My uncle J was killed in a car wreck in November of 1977 and to say that Christmas that year was a little somber is putting it mildly.

The first Christmas after Ex moved out was a little tough too. I had to get rid of the angel tree-topper we bought together and I had to throw out the two turtle doves that Mom gave us for our first Christmas after we got married.

I realize that my job now is to make happy memories for the kid. She's the one that Christmas is all about now.

It's all about making magic...

When The Past Creeps Up On You...In A Good Way

The boy I sat next to in 7th grade math class accepted my Facebook friend request. I still have the mark on my leg from when he stabbed me with a pencil. I can't remember what prompted such an attack. I might have been making fun of how short he was. Maybe. Remember this is 7th grade...the girls were all getting used to wearing their bras every day, yet all the boys hadn't quite hit their growth spurts.

I'm friends with lots of people with whom I went to school. Too Tall K, who lived down the hall from me. MID, who carries on the tradition of her mother's chicken and potatoes. RB, who is still the social butterfly and who is still one of the coolest people on the planet. G, who still carries her camera everywhere she goes. And all those beautiful girls with whom I went to an all-girls Catholic high school. Seriously, these were some of the most stunning girls on the planet.

I like to look their pictures. Invariably there are the kid pictures (if they are parents), the pet pictures (if they have dogs/cats/whatever)...and there are the pictures of our youth.

Brooklyn is exactly like you see in the movies. The scene where John Travolta walking down the street in Saturday Night Fever is so typical. I could be watching a home movie. My uncle looked just like that, only he was blond. The hair, the strut, the working class mentality...that was Uncle J, to a tee.  

Brooklyn takes the idea of "6 degrees of separation" very seriously. And it's usually less than 6 degrees. The wife of one of my ex boyfriends went to a rival all girls Catholic high school with one of my summer sisters. And conversely, this man's mother used to be the administrator of one of my co-workers when she worked at another hospital. And on a totally separate note, I used to be a cashier in the same supermarket as Too Tall K's wife and her sister, waaaaaay before Too Tall K ever met her. 

Although Brooklyn could never be considered a small town, each neighborhood had a small town feel. Each neighborhood had its playground, its alley to sneak smokes you swiped from someone's parents, its own park where you first let the icy waterslide of a Calvin cooler or a Budweiser slosh down your throat in your first effort to be a bad ass, its dark streets perfect for making out with that dreamy guy on a Saturday night, its own dive bar when you first started drinking (always before we were 21, but they didn't card back then) and that crazy ole lady who'd call the cops if you so much as sneezed outside her house past 7:30pm.

As this tumultuous year nears its end, I find myself thinking back to those simpler times. When deciding whether to change into your sweatpants for gym class was worth the effort or if you'd chance getting marked "unprepared."

As I look at those sweet faces of my youth, I can't help but get nostalgic. Tis this season, I suppose. I think of family members who have passed on, the innocence I was in such a rush to get rid of and of all those lost chances. I let these memories wash over me, not pushing them away, but welcoming their visit. I know my own daughter will experience all these things for herself in due course and I hope the innocence will be cherished on her part, I hope the chances will not taken for granted and the rush of a first beer/kiss/ride in the cool guy's car will always be remembered. The craziness and anger that is my life now will one day be in the past and when it creeps up on me, I'll remember this time in my life for what it taught me about patience, my inner peace and for fighting for what I believed in. And I will be proud of the way I handled myself.

Good for the Soul

I've been looking for articles on inexpensive (read: cheap, and even better, free) ways to reduce stress.

I don't really take baths, I can't afford a spa weekend and don't own a vacation home. So that leaves, ummmm, well, really what does it leave?

Well, I'll tell ya! It leaves laughter!

My friends and I all met at the diner that was the backdrop of our childhood and adolescence. The Kings Plaza Diner (KPD) is closing at the end of the month and we all decided to have a mini-reunion. There were 13 of us, including the 14 month old son of a friend. (Sidenote: this little boy is just too freakin' cute!!) Anyway, there were burgers (some with cheese, some without and one veggie burger), about 24,000 french fries, buckets of brown gravy (KPD's gravy tastes EXACTLY the same as it did when I tasted it when I was 14) and about a million laughs.

Oh heavens, did we laugh!! We reminisced about the old neighborhood, friends who couldn't join us, the weird stunts we pulled when we were fearless teenagers and the chocolate covered cheesecake.  The coffee still tastes the same and no matter which waitress we get, they never seem to bring enough half-and-half.

We're all parents now, we all have a few gray hairs (ok, a LOT of grays), we all have households that need out attention, and jobs that don't allow us to get together as often as we'd like.

I'm thankful for this group. With all the mental and emotional chaos that's been going on right now, I needed this night more than ever. I needed to laugh. I needed to be accepted for who I am.

We took pictures of the fries with melted cheese and we stole a menu. A friend who lives in North Carolina will get that. He couldn't drive 12 hours just for a cheeseburger deluxe, but he was with us in spirit.

Now, it's the end of an era.

The KPD is closing by the end of the month. Not to sound all corny and shit, but it really will live on in our hearts and memories together. When I couldn't agree with my mother about anything, we could agree on eating at the KPD. I went there to eat and drink coffee with just about everyone I've ever loved.

As we all split up to go to our separate cars, we promised to get together again soon. Maybe for a little pre-Christmas celebration. Maybe in the depths of January when there's not much to do.

Whatever we do, we'll have to find a new place to meet. It'll be ok. We're all aware that many things change, but this one thing made us all so nostalgic that we really wish that it could be one of those things that never change.

Ok, No More Negativity

My new goal is to remain positive as much as I can.

I was on the phone with my 86 year old grandmother yesterday. This woman was raised on a farm in the South during the Great Depression, met and married my grandfather, converted religions, bore and raised her children in New York City (far from her own family), and lived a sometimes difficult life. Now, she is in the twilight years and she's made peace with all that has happened to her. She's still a force to be reckoned with, and loves to spend time with her family. She understands her limitations and isn't afraid to show her fears. She's intensely devout in her religion and still finds ways to laugh every day.

When I was telling her about the issues I'm facing right now, my grandmother told she'd start praying very very hard for a positive outcome. She wisely told me that although I might not get everything I want, I will always have what I need.

I realized that after everything my grandmother had been through, the lesson is simple: Pray for what you need, not for what you want.

Case in point: I was looking for some very important paperwork last night and I just couldn't find it. I even asked The Kid to help me look, that's how desperate I was. I prayed to God and to St. Anthony (patron saint of all things lost), asking for help. I wandered from room to room, doing the calculations about how much money it would cost to replace this paperwork. Then, I walked into my kitchen and there it was, staring at me, laughing its head off, pointing out my "blindness."

I needed that paperwork for today and I prayed. And then, God and St. Anthony delivered. 

I have been incredibly blessed in my life and the only way to honor those blessings is to smile, remain positive and pray for what I need. Once I have all that I need, what I want will fall into place.

A Few Inalienable Truths

Now what kind of an attitude is that, these things happen? They only happen because this whole country is just full of people, who when these things happen, they just say these things happen, and that's why they happen! We gotta have control of what happens to us.

This is  a quote by a character played by Ethel Merman in It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World. I swear, I crack up EVERY SINGLE TIME I watch that movie.

But, this post is not about laughing or movies or fun.

I'm usually not a person who just lets things happen. I try to remain pro-active and positive. I do unto others as I would like done unto me. I respect everyone until I'm given a reason not to respect them. I try not to judge others. I try to plan ahead: packing lunches the night before, starting Christmas shopping in September or October, buying clothing on clearance to wear the following year. I try not to just LET THINGS HAPPEN.

There is someone in my life who never acts, this person only reacts. And this person always reacts badly. This person always looks like an idiot and when this person tries to do the right thing, there is failure, in epic proportions.

I thought I was going to be able to reason with this person, but alas, this is not ordinary person...this is someone who is so spiteful and so angry and so bitter that cutting off the nose to spite the face seems like a logical idea. What this idiot doesn't seem to understand is that tickling sleeping dragons is NEVER a good idea. That's a lyrical way of explaining that pissing off someone who has dealt with a lot of BS is stupid. At some point, the dragon will wake up and be really really angry. Sometimes the status quo is supposed to be just that, the status quo.

I've made some pretty tough decisions lately. I've had the help and support of my family and friends but in the end, I am responsible for these decisions.

I, like the United States, have a few inalienable truths. Here are a few:

• I hate be questioned about things of which I am sure. Just save us all some time and energy and believe me when I tell you that all's quiet on all fronts.
• I am willing to help anyone who is willing to help him/herself.
• I like to not keep my expectations too high; that way, I am always pleasantly surprised. This truth has served me well in the past and will probably continue to work for me.
• I have the weirdest, the most understanding and the most loyal family on the planet
• I believe in the power of prayer; I've seen miracles that can only be attributed to answered prayers.

I am a dragon. So, if you see me sleeping, leave me the hell alone. I tell you this for your own good, not mine.

Working It Out

I'm in the middle of some ugly emotional chaos and I have to keep it together in front of a very intuitive 8 year old. The kid seems to know when I'm sad or in turmoil and responds by getting cuddly or letting me nap or refilling my water bottle for me.

She senses what others feel. For example, my mom had MAJOR dental surgery last week and when we got home, the kid went to get her Grandma an afghan to keep her warm and offered to rub her feet. So, it's hard to keep things from her. You don't have to verbalize what you're feeling, because she feels it too.

The emotional crap I'm wading through has to do with her father, my ex-husband.

He seems hell-bent on making things as difficult as possible, not just for me, but for the kid. That's what really gets to me the most. He never learned that the biggest part of being a parent is accepting that nothing will ever be just about you...it's ALWAYS about the kid.

I learned that lesson the moment they put her in my arms. I knew that nothing would ever be the same. Nothing would ever be straight-forward. Nothing would ever be all about me ever again.

I'm trying to do the right thing and work it out, be the better person. It's hard to try to do the right thing and be the better person when I'm already sure that I've done the right thing all along and that I am the better parent.

But I get credit for at least trying to work it out, right?

Park It...

When I adopted/rescued my standard poodle, Rosie, she was so traumatized that she wouldn't leave her kennel/crate. I let her eat in there for a few weeks, then gradually moved her dish toward the kitchen, about a foot a week. For a few weeks, she ate in the middle of the living room floor, but eventually, she got her own corner of the kitchen and she was OK.

I should interject here for a minute to tell you that Rosie was named Gracie when I got her, but the kid decided she liked Rosie better. Rosie and Gracie end in the same sound and the transition was seamless.

So, back to my story.

It took MONTHS, I mean at least 3 WHOLE MONTHS, for her to let my father pet her. We deduced that she was afraid of tall men. Rosie was most definitely neglected, but rather quickly it became apparent that she was abused too. Rosie quivered and leaked droplets of urine all over the place whenever my father came into the room. Dad's over 6 feet tall and I guess her former owner, if you could call him that, was tall too. Once she calmed down enough, they went on their nightly jaunts around the block.

I had a trainer come to my house to help a bit. We taught Rosie to lie down, to wait, to "go get it," meaning her toys. If we said, "GrandmaGrandpa," she stopped in front of my parents' door. She's totally house-trained. But we couldn't get her to sit.

You'd put a treat near her face, to attempt her back into a sitting position, and she'd turn her head. You'd attempt it again and you could actually see the dark clouds swoop into her eyes and she get up and walk away to a quiet corner and lie down, staring at you in fear.

That was April of 2009.

In the meantime, we tried to get her to allow being touched by strangers. It took 16 months before she'd let a stranger on the street touch her. Before that, a neighbor would hold their hand out and she recoil in fear and hide behind me. Finally, she let someone touch her and I swear, I cried and I told the man what a break-through it was to have her let him scratch her chin. He didn't seem impressed because when he stopped scratching her ears to talk to me about it, she nudged him for some more scratches.

We still were trying new methods for sitting. Then, in about November of 2009, we changed the name of the command. We asked her to "park it." We'd tap her rump, hold a treat and still she wouldn't do it. You could almost see her brain figuring out what we wanted her to do and she'd rebel against it. The dark clouds would return. My otherwise happy, well-adjusted pet would quiver in fear again.

I knew we just needed to be patient with her and wait for the breakthrough.

Well, it happened yesterday, 10 months of asking her to "park it" later, she finally parked it! I tapped her rump and said the command while we were sitting outside and she did it! I only had to ask her once! She parked it! Finally! I wonder who many exclamation points I need to help get my point across!

!!!!!!!

She did it for me and then for the kid!

And honestly, Rosie looked so damned pleased with herself. She finally realized that we're not going to hurt her and we're not going to let anyone else hurt her either.

I've always said that having a dog love and trust you is one of life's most beautiful experiences. And now that fact is proven to me yet again. Rosie came into our lives when we needed a little hope, something else to focus on once the pain of the divorce was truly over. Rosie quickly became the kid's favorite playmate and my secret-keeper. Many nights, certainly more than I'm ready to admit to, Rosie's neck was wet with my tears of exhaustion and loneliness. Then she'd cuddle up next to my bed (or on the bathroom floor when it go too hot to lie on the carpet) and she'd send me the signal that it's OK to trust, that things always improve when it's least expected.

Isn't it amazing that I had to learn one of life's most valuable lessons from a dog?