December Light

Happy December! By the hardest, I’ve been holding myself back from thinking about December for a while — from thinking about the Christmas holidays. It IS hard. And not necessarily because the excitement is overwhelming, but because the busy-ness and preparations and schedule can be overwhelming. And because all the hullabaloo the holiday brings tends to encroach on my rest and my peace of mind sometimes.

Just before Thanksgiving, I was in the local Wal-Mart picking up items for Bug’s 5-year-old birthday party. I wanted to get a few extra gift items for him and also some “big brother” and “big sister” gifts for the other two. I think that’s when the impending holiday season hit me — right about the time I turned onto the toy aisle. To say it was overwhelming is an understatement, for sure. My mind immediately went into overload with the number of options for Christmas presents. I flittered from one item to the next thinking how one would love this or one would love that. My brain filled up with a low-grade panic because I didn’t yet have a “plan” for getting Christmas presents or doing teacher gifts or baking goodies or putting up decorations. I had to shake my head at myself right there on aisle 17. I had to tell myself to snap out of it and focus on the birthday at hand.

That’s when I decided that I wanted Christmas to be different this year. Sometimes I over-plan or over-work or over-schedule myself right into a serious case of Bah Humbug or at the least a case of wanting a long winter’s nap during this season. Sadly, there have been times when it made me happy to see the festivities come to an end.

With changes and challenges and the plethora that comes with mommyhood and designerhood, I found myself perhaps dreading the holiday season. But, here’s the thing. I’m a celebration-junkie. I like to celebrate. I like to create and enjoy traditions that celebrate and elevate the simple splendor of everyday life — and especially the simple splendors of a Christmas Christ child on a bed of hay. I don’t want that spirit to be dampened in my heart, in my home, in my life. I don’t want Christmas to get so lost in a sea of preparations that I miss the opportunity to see it, much less celebrate it.

The true celebration of Christmas has the uncanny ability to bring a unique light to the winter of life. From a miraculous child and astonished herdsmen to questioning sages and a guiding star, the story of Christmas can bring clarity from it’s sheer simplicity and humility. This month so often sheds light, a pure and clear light. One that opens up our eyes of wonder. The wonder that makes us step outside our tired thinking to believe in possibilities. The wonder that makes us curious. The wonder that gives us courage to follow the light set before us. The wonder that makes us seek our own light found in the unlikeliest of places.

So, I’m starting this December with my guard up. So that I can keep my heart open to the season’s light. I’m guarding my time so that I can choose to focus on the best things and activities and people. I want my children to know this celebration, not just their busy and frazzled mommy. I want them to see this light and wonder for themselves. And I want to see the light myself. And wonder.

I hope YOUR days, this December are “merry and bright.” Feel free to click and download this month’s desktop wallpaper calendar or iPhone/iPad wallpapers. I’m also beginning a 25 Days of Light posting series over at my Plop! blog to share photos of Christmas light. Feel free to click by!

Hearing Thank You

12 Days of Thanksgiving: DAY NINE

“Thank you Mommy for saying these things.”

I don’t think I’ve ever really thought much about hearing “thank you,” and the impact it can have — the lessons it can teach. If you’ve read much in the EyeJunkie archives, you know that my children have taught me many lessons. My 5yo, Bug, is no exception and his lessons have their own brand of sweetness because he is so very passionate about his little life and everything in it.

I can’t believe I just typed 5yo, but it’s inexplicably true. Bug turns five today. He always has a place in each year’s 12 days of Thanksgiving series because he was born just two days before the holiday. He is responsible for one of my most powerful Thanksgiving memories because I brought him home on Thanksgiving Day. Definitely gratitude worthy! And he continues to provide those opportunities.

It was Bug who said the “thank you” that stopped me this time. It was just a normal evening for me. The bedtime routine was in full swing, and I had reached the point in the process when it was Bug’s turn. Bug is a man of routine, and his involves me spreading his blankets in his special way, reading a book, rubbing his back, singing a song and various answers to questions. I’m ashamed to admit that sometimes I do it mindlessly.

All too often I forget, but I do try to send their minds and hearts off to sleep with some reminders of just how special they are. Truths like “you’re so smart,” or “I love you more than you know,” or “you make me smile.” For something so profound, it’s funny how I can breeze by the words just as mindlessly as the rest of routine sometimes. On this night, I kissed Bug’s cheek and off-handedly mumbled “I’m so proud of you.”

Uh uh. With Bug, you don’t get by that easy. You don’t get by with simple flattery. He lives in specifics and usually demands them. And, true to form, on this night he did. He immediately asked me why. Why was I proud of him?

Now, it’s not hard for me to answer that question. I AM proud of Bug, and there are many daily reasons why. I think what surprised me was his desire to hear all those reasons and his boldness to ask for it. It had honestly not occurred to me be more specific. So, I told him. All the little success I could think of. The ones that are small in the course of the life I know he’ll have, but big in the scope of the moments he’s aware of now. And, when I was finished, he said thank you.

“Thank you Mommy for telling me these things.”

Bug rolled over and closed his eyes for sleep, apparently content with the answers he got. And he left me, once again, completely pondering what just happened. Amazed at how much I had to learn from that simple “thank you.” And from “these things.”

Pride is a powerful thing. It fulfills our desire — our need — to be seen. To know our efforts have been noticed and commended moves us. It pushes us closer to good habits, to the confidence required to accomplish more, to that resting place in our own minds where we know we’re doing a good job. Bug’s “thank you, Mommy” reminded me again how important it is to communicate these things. In specific. In real terms and descriptions they can understand and hold easily in their own hearts.

Bug’s request for specifics and his “thank you” showed me how very valuable and needed the reminders are for his heart. For all our hearts. How our hearts awaken when we hear “I’m proud of you.” How we want to know more. How we treasure that affirmation of our efforts and our good work. In specific. How it motivates us toward bigger and better things.

Today I’m grateful for that little sleepy, heart-felt “thank you,” the privilege to hear it and the encouragement to let each of them know how uniquely special they are.

Exuberance, Part 2

It’s that time of year again. The daycare end-of-the-year program is tonight. Back in December, I wrote about the last installment of the daycare touring show — the Christmas program. And just like that experience, exuberance has again been rearing its head around my house.

Granted, exuberance comes standard where Bug, the four-year-old is concerned, but it’s so much bigger and well, exuberant when there’s a performance involved. Especially a performance he’s been practicing for.

So, this morning I was informed, “Today is next Thursday!”

There’s been quite a buildup to “the program,” as we’ve come to call it. His teachers instilled in Bug the idea that “the program” was happening on Thursday, and ever since, I’ve been asked to explain all things relative to the particular Thursday in question.

Today’s the day. Exuberance struck this morning in full force with major jumps around the kitchen, speed chasing through the hallway, volume set firmly on ten and umpteen questions about who’s coming, did we realize it was tonight, wait is it tonight, my teacher said it was tonight, and so forth.

I found myself saying, “Bug, we need to calm down.”

“Bug, settle down.”

“Bug, we need to lower our voices inside.”

“Yes, Bug, I know it’s Thursday.” (insert sigh)

“BUG! You’re too excited! You need to calm down. RIGHT. NOW.”

He stopped. He searched my grim face for a moment. His giant grin dropped to a blank expression. He looked away for a moment. His face colored slightly. Then, he smiled at me again. Maybe a little weaker, but a smile.

That’s when it hit me. WHAT am I doing? I’d rather see his vibrant grin than a blank stare any day. Any moment. Every moment. This was something he had worked for. Something he had practiced. Something that was just his. In a year of big firsts for his older brother becoming a kindergardener and his younger sister learning to talk and do so many things, this was HIS moment. He was the only one of us in “the program.” This was HIS program.

And he was excited about it.

Dare I say, exuberant. And I want him to be. I want to celebrate with him. I want him to know that I can’t wait to see him shine. And I told him so. I grabbed him for a big hug — the kind mommies give when they know they’ve handled it all wrong. The kind with the prayer under my breath saying, “God, please don’t let him remember this.” I told him I was SO excited about his program. That I couldn’t wait to see it. And he bounded off again with exuberance somewhat in tact.

Yes, I understand self control. I understand appropriate. I understand time and place. I understand how frenzied those exuberant moments (and days) can be. And, I understand how they stretch even the most patient mommy (which I am not) during the daily morning routine. Still, in a world where folks pay big money to attend seminars devoted to helping them find the motivation to do things they already say they want to do… In a world where the self help aisle is burgeoning with ways to get yourself on target with that next big idea… In a world where it seems to take an inordinate amount of effort to defy the inertia of lives plugged in to this technology or entertainment or the other… In that world, I WANT to see exuberance. Blinding, unfiltered, self-generated exuberance.

In my Bug, I want to mold it. I want to season it. I want to train it. I want to channel it. And, yes, at times I may even want to contain it. But I never want to squelch it.

Instead, I want to celebrate it. And tonight, I will.

Six

Six years ago, I never could have imagined just how much you would light up my life with your every smile — with your every everything. Happy Birthday, Little Drummer Boy!

McDonalds, Hands and Courage

It’s been a while since I’ve written an installment in my 2010-2011 theme word series on Courage. It’s a topic I’m trying to explore and an attribute I’m trying to cultivate in myself and in my children. One of the biggest questions of courage to me is where to find it. Are we born with it? If so, then what’s the use in trying to cultivate it. And, it’s not like you can bid on it on ebay or throw it in the buggy at the dollar store. So, where does it come from? As usual, my three gifts are teaching me a lot of lessons without even realizing it, and they recently showed me something: Confidence begets courage. The assurance and acknowledgement that we are, in fact, growing or learning those things we think we are and embracing that person we want to become somehow “encourages” us to step forward in those new skills or the new identity we’ve cultivated. It puts courage into us, as that often-used term, “encourage”, implies.

One of my favorite parts of early Spring is seeing tiny new shoots of growth emerge from what looks like completely dormant branches and earth. And, it seems to happen overnight! Where one day there is nothing but the same old brown or gray we’ve been accustomed to, the next appears a tiny spark of green, a new leaf or bloom that lets us know the season is changing.

I love when I see that in my children as well. Although I’ve seen the emerging signs of growth countless times in each of my gifts, it somehow still takes me by surprise each time. Even though their young lives have been a constant stream of changing and growing and learning new things, that moment when I notice it–or when THEY notice it–never ceases to amaze me.

It was Spring Break recently here, and the time (and weather) were ripe for some fun. Little Drummer Boy spent his first official “big school” Spring Break with special days at the daycare with his friends filled with bowling, skating and all the other fun they had planned. We weren’t able to take a full week to go somewhere, but I wanted to give them all at least a little outing and change of scenery. On Friday, we decided to skip daycare and work and take off on an adventure to see a museum in another city.

We started the day with much excitement (and energy) about our anticipated trip, so in my limited Mommy-wisdom, I decided that a trip to McDonald’s for breakfast and a stint in the “play place” were in order before settling into the minivan for an hour. One thing about our little adventures that I’ve come to predict is that one mommy plus three youngsters usually equals hands full, and a few accoutrements are required — namely extra juice, extra pull-ups, extra gummies, extra goldfish, extra chapstick and some well-placed extra instructions.

On this morning, those well-placed instructions were directed to Little Drummer Boy. He’s filled with excitement at being the “big brother,” emphasis on big, and it’s certainly a point of pride that he is the only one attending “big school.” When we walked into McDonald’s needing to order food, but ready to play, my hands were indeed full and I decided it was a good time to hand off some of those “big brother” duties. I asked LDB if he would take two-year-old Baby Girl’s hand and take her to the playground for me while I ordered. Bug was already half-way to the play place door because his sphere doesn’t quite include “big” duties. Little Drummer Boy on the other hand, seems to relish the reminders that he is growing stronger and smarter every day.

And, relish he did! When he heard my proposition, his face took on a new expression of “big-ness”, the countenance of responsibility. He had a job to do to take care of his little sister, and he took it seriously. It was an acknowledgement from Mommy that he was big enough to handle it, that he WAS the big brother, and that he was a good one. I could see his little heart fill with pride right there by the super hero prize display. A new courage to take on a fledgling leadership role was born. New shoots of growth popped out of the five-year-old earth before my eyes.

The wild card in the scenario was Baby Girl. Would she cling to Mama? Would she agree to the out-stretched hand of her newly minted “BIG” brother? It’s funny how confidence spreads. Once Little Drummer Boy adopted the confidence of “big brother” status and the responsibility that goes with it, Baby Girl adopted a new confidence that she had a big brother looking out for her.  And, she had the courage to take his hand and walk (not run) to the play area. Now, each time we’re at McDonald’s she wants to hold her brother’s hand instead of mine.

As I’ve been thinking about this simple experience from a few weeks ago, I’m so thankful for the little expressions of confidence I’ve received over the last year that have boosted my courage to step into new responsibilities and to embrace anew or reclaim areas of my time and space and efforts that reflect how I really want life to be. Thinking on the blossoming pride I saw in Little Drummer Boy reminds me that it’s important to acknowledge for myself the small, everyday milemarkers that reflect my progress. And it gave me a new commitment to give that inexpensive but invaluable gift to each of my children as well.