christmas survivor tells her tale

did:
write haiku, make prints, deliver cards, play 2 shows, cook insane amount of food, buy, wrap, and deliver 5 sets of gifts, finish S's fridge, fill it with wooden and cardboard food, overdraw the checking account, get paid, make un-returned phone calls to elusive father in law, play masses, fill stockings, eat food, clean up, sort toys, clothes and books to make room for the new stuff, make more food, have the usual guilt attack that comes along with the post-christmas lull ("Isn't there something I should be doing right now?"), realize I have not posted for WEEKS...

did not:
piss of my in-laws, poison anyone with underdone turkey, forget to get anyone from the airport, get called away to a birth, fold the laundry (it is in a pile in the basement closet. AHA! That's what I should be doing!) make too big a deal about Santa, prohibit my poor child from eating any sweets, edit my profoundly lame book review which will probably be going to print any day now with my unfortunate name right on it.

what's up:
J and I are in the process of watching the pirates of the caribbean movies (I don't know why so don't ask), I am reading Middlesex- an unexpected gift from my mother-in-law - and listening to a weird mix from a friend at work, we're contemplating getting a real bed for our son. (J is convinced that it's vaguely neglectful to let him sleep on a futon. ) We're working on the five year plan for community records - which, by the by, is taking off like crazy. So crazy that J is thinking seriously about quitting his only other remaining job.
Perhaps as a result of all of the above, I have been having wild and very involved dreams. They play out like full-on action movies. I wake up with the entire plot fresh in my mind. I can even remember my costumes, the set (it's always a set), and - oddly - the view from the audience. Clearly, I have some sorting to do that has nothing to do with my jammed-up closets. I think that part of my uneasy post-holiday lull is brought on by the fact that I put off dealing with stuff by staying really busy. When I finally come to a full stop, it all rushes at me with sickening force. Plus, I'm always preoccupied with death at Christmas (isn't everyone?) At almost every yearly milestone (birthdays and christmas and anniversaries) I think about the one where I'll be dead. Nice, hunh. And when I'm done with that I worry about the fact that this year seems warmer than the last and will my grandkids get to sled at all, and....
Somebody needs a little fresh air.
Or a birth. Nothing like the beginning of life to put things into perspective, restore my faith in humanity and revive hope.
Hey! Christmas...
the baby...
I GET IT!

pushed

haikus!

below are some responses to the christmas haiku challenge.
if you feel the urge, don't hold back!
I got a fever! and the only perscription is more christmas haiku!

Abbie:
(waxing loquacious)

Amy (Amy Morgan)
in your youthful innocence
you forget the truth:

you must admit that
there is no such thing as a
boring, trite haiku!

Haikus bring pleasure
and in-trest to otherwise
uneventful days.

Merry Christmas to
all whom I lovingly call
my nerdiest friends

(we are brainiacs
on the nerd patrol and we
delight in that fact)

Thanks for your friendship
this Christmas season and past,
and future, and now.

My love and thanks to
you, Jesse, Stu for all that
you are, were, will be.

Thanks also for this
joy-filled opportunity
to think. Abbie Lee

Justin:

run very fast for
fun friends are soon here, spirit
comes warm this new year

Diane:

when the ball lights up
a new year is beginning
it's two thousand and eight!

Joe:
(a spartan at heart)

snowflakes in her hair
glistening in the moonlight
newborn left to die

Carly:
(christmas/ new year's a true holiday haiku)

christmas and newyear's
we drink champagne through the night
it's two thousand eight!

Kristin:
(at our new year's eve party)

It's new year's eve
time to start another year
a resolution?

it's starting to snow
pregnant woman on the couch
guys are playing games

Paul:

reindeer of despair
floats, strapped to his jet pack of
haunted memories

Amanda:
(nothing like a christmas cold to exacerbate all that's hellish about the holidays)

my nose is snotty
i'm not prepared for christmas
i just want a beer

Dan and Bets:
(my DIY holiday buds are having rough go of it)

making christmas gifts
fun but stressful too, you see
will they really care?

kitchen-aid mixer
broke. not so many cookies
will be had this year

Jesse:
(apparently slightly dismayed by a percieved superabundance of seasonal plush toys)

These holiday bears
Needles and gingerbread smells
I drank too much beer

snow

I can't help it...I love this!
I know it makes driving hellish and I have to scrape my car and whatever other grown-up blah blah blah blah, but I am so so happy when I wake up to see snow coming down.

S and I made christmas cookies over the weekend. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself. He stood on a chair at the kitchen counter and at each new step, he'd look at me with huge eyes, and gasp, "I can help, mama?!?" I'd look right at him and nod solemnly, and every time he'd jump up and down on the chair yelling, "OK!!! Let's DO it!" By the time we were done mixing and rolling and cutting out and baking and cooling and frosting and sprinkling several dozen chistmas-y shapes, the entire house was covered in a fine layer of sugar and I was ready for a drink. (or 4)

I remember my mom making cookies with us. I was always mystified when, near the end of hour two, she'd try to sneak the last fist sized ball of dough scraps into the trash, saying it'd been rolled out too many times and wouldn't taste right. Sunday, when my back was killing from hunching over to kid level, my nerves shot from rescuing child and cookies from six million near disasters, and even my contacts coated with sugar, I so got it. I opened the cupboard under the sink when he wasn't looking, tossed in the wax-paper wraped hunk of unfulfilled cookie potential and flashed back to being eight years old. However, rather than the usual desparation and helplessness that is brought on by realizing that I am becoming my parents afterall; I felt kind of ok. I am juggling a marriage, a house, a family, a job and grad school and studying fetal anatomy and still making crazy lopsided sugary cookies and greeting new snow with a smile on my face.
There is a God. And, apparently, she's on my side.