My twenty-third slice-of-life story...

Santa Shops at Toys 'R Us...

Reid's two and a half; he's curious, he's smart, he's creative.  He's fueled by books and conversation.  For the past three Christmases, more tales about Santa have shown up at bedtime than he could shake a stick at.  "Santa has a red suit, a white beard, makes his toys at the North Pole, and says 'Ho, ho, ho.'"  All these tidbits he holds onto as truth.

From a parent's perspective though, I'm wondering how to be Santa...how to grow the myth of Santa...and how to balance Santa with our belief system.  I've canvassed friends and family members with this series of questions, and what I've found is that answers vary like snowflakes.  And, we're late to the party --- we haven't yet developed our system.  But, the time is drawing nigh to create one. 

I'd admit, this year my Christmas shopping has been moved to the back burner more than old chili.  Procrastination landed us at Toys 'R Us Saturday night amidst the mayhem defined in my dictionary as 'driven {desperate} loved ones out in hard-core shopping mode for special wishlist items.'  I've never seen anything like it --- obscene lines, mountainous carts, a sea of serious faces.  And, there we were with our little one in tow. 

Which, now, brings me back to our Santa situation.

Behind fourteen other tired shoppers at check-out, we shifted our weight and clumsily balanced our patience and packages.  My husband and I tried like champs to keep our chosen items above toddler-eye level; but, with each passing minute they became heavier, more cumbersome, and droopier.

Until...I heard an unfamiliar sound...and looked down to see tiny balls popping like corn in the toy leaf blower my husband lovingly picked out for our little task master. 

"It sounds like a hand dryer but it isn't as lownd!" Reid pronounced.

Alright.  What do we do with the present now?  It's like damaged goods because the kiddo has a mind like a steel trap.  In the car, the bathtub, or at his sitters, he will at some point casually recount the shopping excursion in copious detail.  (He does this often with memories we assume he'd forget post-haste.) 

Maybe, part of the story we'll weave is that an invisible Santa does all his shopping alongside mommies and daddies at Toys 'R Us...

Write on,
b

From Julia Cameron...

You know, it's been a while since I've been in Julia Cameron's The Writer's Life...but her familiar thoughts jump out at me from within other professional works.  I'm always glad when they do.

Today, here's one idea positioned so artfully by Katie Wood Ray within In Pictures and In Words:

Writing is the act of motion.  Writing is the commitment to move forward, not to stew in our juices, to become whatever it is we are becoming.  Writing is both the boat and the wind in the sails.  Even on these days when the winds of inspiration seem slight, there is some forward motion, some progress made.  The ability to show up brings with it the ability to grow up.  (2001, 96)

Write on,
b

My twenty-second slice-of-life story...

Knees

Black knees, blue knees, striped knees, two knees
Great-aunt's knees, cousins' too
And don't forget Trevor; his are new
Knees facing in:
Folded, bent, straight, crossed
A protective hedge for a child's loss.

Breaking through the circle, then outside
More knees were moving in a line
Walk a little then stop to talk:
Hug, cry, wish, pray
So many knees at the church today

Weaving through the loved ones standing way up front
There were Uncle Matt's hurt knees
and Uncle Tim's khaki knees
and Grandma's pretty flowered knees
and Daddy's shiny dress-pant knees

One pair of knees gone, hard to miss
The one in the pictures she loved to kiss:
Drip, drop, weep, wipe
A four-year-old's view of loss is slim
(An adult's, not so much, things look so dim)

A tip-toed child, chin raised toward the sky
Took the eyes of people as she reached up high
Standing next to Daddy her mission was clear:
Tug, stretch, grasp, peer
Find a way to get Mommy near

A glance right then was all it took
The grown-ups around shamelessly shook
A ballet skirt and curly pink hair bow:
Twirl, walk, dance, run
(Only a child would think this crowd is fun.)

Black knees, blue knees, striped knees, two knees
All these knees showing love today
Just keep coming through the big doorway
Knees facing in as she played on the floor:
Folded, bent, straight, crossed
A protective hedge for this youngster's loss.

Write on,
b

My twenty-first slice-of-life story...

You know, sometimes I'm so busy I can hardly see straight...

Designing and delivering this presentation or that,
or wondering what to cook my family for dinner,
or deciding (sadly) what I'll wear tomorrow,
or schedule-crunching to finish the shopping,
or looking ahead to when I'll wrap the gifts we buy,
or figuring out when I'll prepare all those Christmas cards...

But wait, we have to get our family picture taken first.  

Should our outfits coordinate?

It seems everything compounds until the only noise I hear is that of my stressed-out little heart thup, glup, glupping its way to the end of school, and then finally, the holidays.

When my vision of what's really going on in life is impaired...perspective always presents itself.  When the waves (almost) crash and the fury is (almost) at fever pitch, an attitude of gratitude seeps in.  I stop tonight; quietly contemplative.

Tonight, my cousin paces terrified to imagine the future without his young wife.

Thank Tom for being the man of my dreams.

Tonight, two tiny children snuggle tightly into Mommy to learn everything they can about her...almost as if by osmosis...before it's too late.   The unexpected lesson: cancer.

Attend fully to Reid during our short evenings...make every minute count!

Tonight, a family surrounds her silent and watching...believing in a miracle. 

Keep praying! The Hands that hold the world also hold Nikki...

Tonight, an older Mommy and Daddy would trade places with the daughter they brought into the world thirty years ago just so she could see her babies grow up. 

Parenting is an unselfish act...do I always treat it as such?

My presentations, gifts, shopping, cards, clothes, and menu choices 

are insignificant. 

And, that's probably being generous.
They don't matter in the grand scheme.

Instead of seeing my to-do list as obligatory, I should see it as a list of opportunity.
Opportunity for the family with whom I've been blessed,
for the job which inspires me and keeps me growing,
for the clothes I have to keep me warm,
for the food reserves I can pull from each mealtime,
for the means to gift special people at parties, gatherings, at home around our tree,
for friends' smiling faces on cards I love to receive each holiday season.

You know, sometimes I'm so busy I can hardly see straight; but mostly that's because I'm not focused on opportunity...

Write on,
b

My twentieth slice-of-life story...

Just like any self-respecting kindergarten teacher, 

I had my thematic book tubs neatly displayed, organized, and labeled.  

School. Fall. Spring. Weather. HOLIDAYS.  

Now that Reid is in the picture, these textual treasure troves seem to find

their way home like clockwork to provide our daily diet of seasonal reading.  

(God bless this child's future primary teachers: 

"I already know that book..." they'll hear.)  

I can do like Owivia!

 "I want Owivia Helps With Cwistmas!" my reader proclaimed greedily grabbing the hardback from among the lesser holiday selections in the tub.  Jumping in the comfy rocking chair, we cuddled back up to explore how Olivia prepared for Christmas festivities with family.  Teachers like to talk (and we like even better when a rapt pupil listens...).  Together we noticed, and studied, and committed to memory each tangential tidbit of interest.  

She cut the tree top off to decorate the dinner table!  Oh my!

Look at the dog drinking Santa's milk and eating Santa's cookies!

A raccoon is making noise on the roof?  I thought it was Santa's reindeer...

Olivia got skis for a Christmas gift!  What are skis?

(Skiing where I am is NOT topographically feasible, 

so a little picture exploration will have to do.)

 

Picture copied from Olivia Helps With Christmas by Ian Falconer

 

A few hours later what I spied from my kitchen abuzz with dinner preparation (and in the meantime didn't notice the character who absconded with a few choice utensils) was my little Midwest skier, intently studying his mentor while figuring out how to make the plastic whisk and metal spatula work in his favor. 

Now about that hill, Mommy...

Write on,

b

My nineteenth slice-of-life...

Post-NCTE 

Honestly, life's been an absolute whirlwind the last week --- I was in Chicago, now I'm home, and then my family will be traveling for Thanksgiving.  I'm still looking forward to reflecting with my session notes, a chai, my tunes, and memories from the complete NCTE experience because it was marvelous (and that may be an understatement).  I'm sure from this content there will be many posts forthcoming, but for now...to keep in the spirit of the season I'm sharing an NCTE list of thankfulness!


I am thankful...

for the friends with whom I reconnected.
for the new ones I met.
for the slicers with whom I was lucky enough to share breakfast.
for the people who joined our session.

(It was early Saturday morning and the conference room was just shy of polar.)

for my presenting colleague who knew we could do it...and we did.
for the countless topics that pushed my thinking.
for the contagious buzz which filled convention spaces.
for the hotel that graciously upgraded us to executive level.

(So, yes, Virginia --- there is a hotel with two bathrooms per room to make mornings a snap!)

for the historic city which served as an inspiring backdrop.
for the limo driver who picked up the whole National Geographic dinner crew
for the Roy's charred filet mignon I couldn't stop eating.
for the signed copy of 10 Things Every Writer Needs to Know.

(I'm looking forward to a little holiday reading...)

for my new picture book, The Bracelet.

(Do you know this story?  What a tear-jerker!)

for my rekindled drive to do more, learn more, and be more.



Just like Lilly in Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse, all I can say now is, "Wow." 

(I can't wait to reflectively take it all in...)

Write on,
b

Pre-NCTE

So, tomorrow, we leave...making the drive to the big city.
Books, laptop, speakers, handouts,
ZIP DRIVE,
the million miscellaneous items
(we think)
we'll need to
present,
attend,
learn.

I'm excited.
I'm nervous.
I'm busy.

Laundry, packing, organizing, (deciding what to wear each day---OK I'll admit it), planning for the meetings I'll host at school tomorrow and the professional development I'll deliver after the conference, cleaning, grading running records, studying school data, (drinking coffee filled more with my favorite peppermint mocha creamer than the dark stuff I'll never become accustomed to), blogging, packing some more, dreaming.

Dreaming of
what I'll learn,
who I'll meet,
and
where we'll go.

The other busyness will take care of itself...

Write on,
b