Remembering Yourself this Holiday Season

I hear way too much talk about "surviving the holidays" these days. From the financial stress presents put on families to the schedule takeover by holiday parties, people can go a little crazy this time of year.
When I was younger, I would look forward to November and December all year round, waiting for the lights, the carols and the holiday festivities. I had that warm, fuzzy feeling from October 31st to January 1st and I was unstoppable. This girl would spend hours drafting and decorating her Christmas list and I'd fall asleep to the Raffi Christmas album every night. "Douglas Mountain" was my sleepy time jam!

It often seems the Holiday spirit inversely relates to someone's age and I am just not OK with this. That little kid inside of me still exists and she wants to live it up this holiday season. Don't you?
So, how can I do this?
My observations tell me that people lose the holiday spirit when things get too crazy and they have nothing left to give. They've spent all their time, energy and money on everyone else and they are completely tapped out. They're fresh out of patience for [insert annoying family member here] and cannot handle another [insert holiday-themed dessert here].
Does this sound familiar?

A Selfish Proposition

I'm proposing something different this holiday season: a list of ways to be a little more selfish. Now, don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly believe the holiday season is about giving and thinking of others BUT I believe that can only be done out of a heart that is well cared for itself. When we give on repeat and take no time to replenish ourselves, Ebenezer Scrooge appears. And yes, I believe that's the clinical name for it. Here are three ways you can remember yourself this holiday season:

1. Take scheduled time for gratitude. Literally put it in your planner. Whether it's 5 minute every morning sitting in silence reflecting on all you love or a special two-hour gratitude-focused yoga intensive with yours truly at 3 Bridges Yoga (shameless plug), scheduling a time to sit with your gratitude will do wonders for your perspective. Take the time to dust off and clean those rose-colored glasses of yours.
2. Say "no" to some things. Does it overwhelm you to spend Christmas Day in a car going to see all 84723982 of your relatives? Lay the hammer down and only see a few of them. Does your office holiday party make you feel all sorts of awkward and spent at the end of the night? RSVP no. Don't have time to make cookies for a cookie swap? Then just don't do it. Outsource that sh*t to someone who does it better, like a local bakery (I won't tell if you won't). Spending too much money on gifts? Stop it. Do a Pollyanna swap with your family rather than getting each person a gift and try to tone down the "stuff". If you're able to read this blog, chances are you have too much of it anyway.
3. Take care of your body. Our bodies are our mediators with the world around us. Without them, we can't participate in our own lives. Take the time to care for your body this holiday season. Whether that's with daily exercise or healthy foods, your body needs and deserves it. Then, when events you really love come about, you can participate in all the special parts of it with abandon. Wine, I'm looking at you!

What I'm trying to say is that the holidays are as joy-filled as you make them. If you're feeling more like a Grinch than Buddy the Elf this year, be sure that you're getting what you need. Chances are, you're not. And chances are, if you do, you might notice a whole shift in perspective. 

An Open Heart

I went to the dentist today to get a filling (which, by the way, is the WORST). My dentist lets us listen to music to drown out the drilling and also wear sunglasses so the exam light doesn't blind us. She's quite thoughtful, really. I put on a playlist I had made for a yoga intensive and on that playlist was "Fight Song" by Rachel Platten. It's a powerful song she wrote about taking back her life and getting back to who she is, amidst a lot of hardship. So, I'm sitting in the dentist chair, mouth pried open with some kind of torture device, getting my teeth drilled by an actual torture device, completely numb and drooling, trying not to audibly sob while I think about my powerful friend who absolutely embodies this song right now. Thank goodness for the sunglasses. I mean, what is WRONG with me? Who gets choked up in the dentist's chair?

A good friend recently gave me a children's Christmas book by Nancy Tillman. We have a number of her books but not The Spirit of Christmas so I was thrilled to receive it. But let me tell you about Nancy Tillman: lady makes me UGLY CRY. Like, openly weep. Oh, that's so sweet, you say. Yeah, not when it freaks out your children who haven't quite figured out what a sentimental sap you are and instead are wondering Did you get an owie, Mama?

From Tillman's My Love Will Find You

I was not always this way!

While my talent for choking up is genetic, I wasn't always so susceptible (a.k.a. I didn't always need sunglasses in the dentist's chair). I don't particularly enjoy wearing my heart on my sleeve but two things have happened to me in my life that have ripped my heart wide and opened the floodgates: I had my heart broken and then I had children.

Having someone you love hurt you is devastating. Whether they break-up with you, leave you or pass away, it is debilitating. The heart, while a muscle, breaks like a bone. It can shatter into a million pieces. To say this hurts is an understatement. But out of this shattered matter fuses a heart stronger than the one before.

The second thing, having children, made my heart burst. The levies that surrounded my heart gave way. There was not a powerful enough border to contain what transpired (and transpires) in my heart due to these little monsters running around my house. The love was (and is) overwhelming. Yet just like my heartbreak from years prior left me disassembled, so this bursting left me in pieces. Pieces that were glued together in a makeshift way, as if the cause of the burst (my children) were doing the repair themselves.



One could argue that a reassembled heart is weaker and more vulnerable to re-breaking. I suppose that's true. At least, it's true if we accept society's definition of strength as having a hard, unbreakable shell. I'm thinking I reject that definition and I'll tell you why.

A heart with cracks can let more OUT, too. A heart that knows it's been broken and survived has the ability to be braver because it knows where it's been. It has been to the depths and lived to tell the tale. All the seams present from the repairs are not scars but rather passageways through which love can pass.

I think of a piece of ceramic pottery that has been repeatedly repaired and forged back together after years of wear and tear. Against the odds, it maintains its structure but it also leaks. This is my heart. It is a leaky, glued together albeit strong, piece of pottery. It allows light and love in more easily than it used to, and releases them with more generosity.

It is precisely in the leaking (in the gaps) that my strength lies.

Five years ago, my dad had a quintuple bypass. The day he had surgery, I was far away in San Francisco where I lived at the time. Picturing him lying on an operating table with his chest open - his heart open - scared me tremendously. My sentimental, generous, hard-working, loving and amazing father was in the most vulnerable position ever: lying on a table with his heart completely open. I was so worried that he would never be the same.

A lot of things have changed since my dad had surgery. For one, he now has six grandchildren for whom his love flows out of his leaky heart like a river. Thankfully he is in good health now and ready and willing to audibly sob at any feel-good movie or children's book (he can't get through a Tillman, either). His heart has been reassembled stronger than ever, thanks to its scars and cracks. I'd argue that his heart and capacity to love is stronger now than it has ever been. He knows where he's been and what he's survived and rather than being unwilling to re-open that scarred heart of his, his commitment to love through the cracks is unyielding.

How to Keep Your Sanity Through the Holidays

I'm obsessed with Christmas. LOVE IT.

• I hijack our Netflix queue during the month of December and we watch only Christmas movies. 
• I know EXACTLY what my girls are wearing for every Christmas-themed activity (and yes, it's adorable). 
• We have the new Amazon Echo (highly recommend) and she absolutely knows to play "holiday music" during this time or else she gets a stern, "Alexa STOP!" even from my daughter (when my daughter isn't yelling "Alexa play Frozen" at her).
• I know all the words (multiple verses) to every Christmas carol. Thank you, high school ensemble! This baffles my husband who can't even remember the lyrics to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat". Nope, not kidding. 
• As I've stated before, I redecorate my tree on a regular basis. 

There are countless other ways in which my obsession for Christmas comes through but I have to preserve some mystery here (and keep you from judging me for the crazy Christmas elf that I am).

Yet, as much as I LOVE Christmas, there are aspects of it that are really hard. 

  The surplus of unhealthy food.

    The endless travel.

      The crazy hubbub of family and friends.

        The heartache of missing loved ones far and lost.

Just to name a few. So while I would never want to just "get through" the holidays, I do think it's important to arm ourselves with a few tricks to make this time of year the most enjoyable and as light on stress as possible. 

Here are a few tricks I use to make the holidays successful:

1. When I can, I eat clean. That means avoiding processed food and sugar (that isn't from fruit or good sources like honey or real syrup). Yeah this is SOOOO easy, right? I try to stick with the 90/10 rule (which sometimes turns into the 80/20 rule). Eat clean and wonderfully 90% of the time and go bananas for the other 10%. If you allow yourself that 10%, you'll be more discerning about how you use that portion. Christmas cookie? Oh yeah. Grandma's sketchy holiday eggnog? Um, I'll pass...
2. MOVE. As in, take a break from your A Christmas Story marathon and do something. Anything. Walk around the block. Shake your booty to Mariah Carey's Christmas album. Pretend you're Rudolph and pull every kid present (which may or may not include your emotionally stunted cousin, Victor) around in a "sleigh". 
3. Get outside. We head to San Diego every other Christmas so this part is a piece of cake for me. Go outside in Sunny CA when back home it's frigid and dark? SURE. But seriously, put on your parka and smell some fresh air. Whether you're dealing with jet lag or depression, the sun's rays and a little fresh air can work wonders for the bod.
4. Take time for yourself. So key, especially when you are not in your comfort zone (A.K.A. at your in-laws). Go take a yoga class or check out that boutique downtown. Go to Starbucks and "get lost" for an hour. I am always the very first to volunteer for a grocery store run just so I can ride solo.
5. Talk to your people. This is one of those "do as I say, not as I do" ones. I can totally suck at this (as Mr. Fix It, my husband). Make sure you take time to connect with your people (or person) over the holidays. It is beyond easy to isolate yourself and miss opportunities to bond with the people who really matter to you. In my opinion, this all happens much better over a glass (um, bottle?) of wine. I make it a policy to drink frequently over the holidays. 
6. Celebrate and remember. Who are you missing this year? We lost my grandfather (my Bubba) earlier this year and this is our first Christmas in San Diego without him. I plan on telling as many stories about him as I can remember, imitating his guffaw with frequency and, best of all, doing this all with other people who were loved by him and loved him. 
7. Give.  Maybe money, maybe time, maybe hugs. Just be open to giving and look for opportunities to be generous. There is nothing like the spirit of generosity to chase away the Scrooge in all of us. And to disarm even the judgy-est of relatives. 

I hope this list (lists are my FAVORITE) is helpful to you. Trust me when I say that, when I don't do these things, there is drama. When I do, there is none. 

HAHAHAH just kidding there is always drama! Ain't nobody escaping Christmas without it BUT, you will be able to face the drama better so that, rather than be a participant, you can--at the very least--be a bystander who silently judges. 

Merry Christmas!!!

    

Starting Small

It's my favorite time of year- Christmastime!

My heart teeters between being so remarkably light and so extremely heavy during this time. For one, I have all I ever need or want. Health, a warm home and an amazing family. And lots of chocolate. Seriously, there is so much chocolate around here I'm in heaven.

#pantsoptional

One moment of giddiness came when my oldest, Charlotte (2 years 9 months) moved a chair to the front of our Christmas tree. She climbed on it and started rearranging ornaments saying, "Mama, I'm just fixing stuff." This is so amazing because what she doesn't know is that, long before she was born, I would rearrange the tree so that ornaments were placed in their most optimal locations. It's genetic- my mom does it, too. My husband really loves this about me. #sike

But my heart also aches and has moments of complete despair. From refugees carrying their babies across borders to the immediate needs of my community, life just isn't the way it ought to be for so many. And that's putting it lightly. Our world appears to be falling apart at the seams. Is this how every generation feels at one point or another or are things really this bad?

I'm left with this sense of being stuck. What do I do? How do I proceed from these moments? Where do I even begin to express the gratitude I feel and also the despair? I'm dying for action but I just can't even move sometimes.

But then I think about my daughter moving a chair to the tree. She's too small to get to the ornaments she really wants. She climbs her sweet little body up the chair, stands on her tippy toes and fixes stuff. It's nothing big, sometimes just a candy cane she hasn't yet examined or a star she wants to twirl around. It's important work to her. Toddler work.

She moves the chair, she climbs and she does her task.

In these moments that I have, both of delight and despair, I must choose to act. Following Charlotte's example of starting small (for she is small), I have to proceed.

So here's a little of what I'm doing - won't you join me?

Mine is from Pottery Barn

• Advent Calendar: I received this amazing calendar from my sister-in-law last year. It has pockets and in them, I've placed notes with tasks for the day. They range from making garland to visiting our elderly neighbors to taking a winter walk. I want to be intentional this season about how I'm spending time with my beloveds in addition to teaching my littles how to be generous out of the abundance we have.

• Carry the Future: Hopefully, you've heard of this organization doing wonderful and practical work for Syrian refugees in Europe, specifically Greece. Started by a Californian mother, this organization outfits Syrian parents with baby carriers to keep their wee ones close. In addition to this practical and thoughtful endeavor, they've also expanded in providing relief packs to refugees. 

• Building a Habit of Kindness: The theme of "building new habits" has dug in and stayed in my heart these last few months. We can build ALL SORTS of habits. We can stop biting our nails, floss (for once!), work out more, eat better. Why can't we build a habit of kindness? Start small. Maybe a kind word to a friend (why don't we tell our friends how much we root for them?). Or a meal for a family in chaos. It doesn't cost us much to be kind and the more we are kind, the more it becomes WHO WE ARE. Think of the Grinch: grow your heart three sizes. That grumpy little sucker carved the roast beast at the end, people. 

I hope and pray you have a wonderful Christmas season! May we greet each day and each person with open hearts. May we operate out of abundance rather than scarcity. May we be so brave as to open our hearts to those around us so that we might bear some of their pain and joy.

It's Official: I've Lost It.

We're moving across the country in precisely 9 days and 13 hours. Ho. Ly. Smokes. This means, I am crazy right now. Not my normal brand of crazy but a new kind: the kind where I daydream longingly about chickens with their heads cut off and think, "ah, to be that subdued!" There is so much to do and so little time to do it! I've lost it. I'm speaking, of course, about my mind. See, I couldn't even find it quickly enough to put it into that last sentence!

In a desperate attempt at sanity, I've put a list together of signs I've exhibited that prove I've, indeed, lost it.

1. My outfit today says, "I've given up." Yes, I believe fashion speaks. Just yesterday, my outfit said "I'm pretending that I'm not pajamas when really I am."


2. There are packed boxes everywhere and yet I still insisted we get a Christmas tree. We no longer have glasses but, don't worry folks, the Tannenbaum's a blazin! It's a vertically challenged, naked tree but it is fantastic! Every time I'm around it, I feel like saying, "good grief!" because it's my very own Charlie Brown Christmas tree.

3. I've been looking at the ridiculously huge pile of laundry saying, with great authority and fervor, "Laundry, do thyself!" No matter my optimism, the mass remains.

4. I've developed an enormous mass on my chin. Seriously, I'm Rudolph, the chin version! I prefer to refer to it as my "tumor" instead of a pimple, to which my husband so predictably responds, "It's not a toomah!"



5. I talk to myself. And my cat. Yeah, I'm that girl. I'm in my apartment all day working and packing, things were bound to go south for my sanity! Claudymom, God love her, always talks to herself. She says that "it's great talking to myself because I don't give myself grief like you kids do!" Ah, Claudymom. If this means I'm turning quirkier like her, than I guess I'm cool with it.

Send. Help. Please.

Oh, and Diet Coke. Lots of Diet Coke.

This Blonde Bakes?

Now, I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me-- I am not domestic. It's not that I can't do domestic things or don't think they're valuable: I can and I do. It's that I hate doing domestic things like cooking, baking, cleaning, sewing (that one I actually can't do), etc. All I'm saying is, they're called chores for a reason and now that I don't get an allowance, I'm just not interested. 

Even with my domestic aversions (I think I might be allergic), I actually baked this past weekend. As per usual, I had a craving for chocolate and something had to be done about it! Perhaps I was feeling sorry for my husband who, when he wants something homemade, has to make it himself, so I decided to bake some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies-- my absolute favorite vessel for delivering chocolate to my mouth.

Besides a wife's guilt, my reason for choosing to make these cookies was sentimental. When we were younger, my grandmother (Claudymom's mom) would bake cookies for my siblings and me when we would come visit. She baked oatmeal chocolate chip for my sister and me and oatmeal raisin for my brother (Which is a lesser cookie, let's be honest. What's the point of a cookie without chocolate? She obviously liked my sister and me better).

Claudymom never let me bake growing up because she said I made a huge mess.

As I was baking, I thought about my Grandmother, or "Gram," as we called her. Just like her daughter, she was one of the quirkiest quirks that ever quirked. Whether she was mispronouncing words, chewing uncommonly loudly or singing Carly Simon's version of "Itsy, Bitsy Spider" in her car off of the only tape she owned (given to her at the dealer so she see the "caliber" of the sound system, I guess), this woman was full of life. As I made those cookies, I felt her presence and may have even sang a few bars of the song good old Carly made such a classic. Obviously, it sounded awesome.

They were ridiculously tasty. They're all gone now.

I felt really close to Gram that day because I was doing something she had done, over and over again, for us. She wasn't just a memory or a concept, she was an action: baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. The tangibility of the baking process helped me remember her in a new way, especially because this was the first time I baked these cookies since she died ten years ago.

Even though I wished she was there so much, it was nice not to have to share the privilege of licking the bowl with my sister. I never did like to share.

As we near the holidays, I hope I can pursue actions that connect me with my loved ones that are gone, as well as the ones that I am lucky to still have with me. What will you do this season to connect with those you love?

If you want the recipe, I've posted it here. This whole "writing about baking and posting recipes" is not going to be a habit. I will leave that to the fabulous Lady Gouda, who knows a whole lot more than I do about the "kitchen" subject.

News Flash: Christmas Coming Early This Year!

I know what you're thinking: This dumb blonde just wrote about Halloween and now she thinks it's Christmastime already? 

My answer for you: First of all, stop being so harsh and secondly, get your ass in the Christmas spirit!

Look at it glistening in the sun . . . it's so beautiful.

Everyone knows there are two authorities on the arrival of the holiday season: Coca Cola and Starbucks. Think polar bears and red cups, people! The Diet Coke can has spoken: it's that time of year again! (side note for all of you worrying about my health for drinking diet soda. If it kills me in the end, it'd be a good way to go!)

I purchased this glorious D. Coke this afternoon on my way to Walgreens. The festive can was my first clue and the overall decor of Walgreens was my second that it is indeed the most wonderful time of the year (I encourage you to sing that as you read it. Come on, try it. No one likes a Scrooge).

Some people do not like Christmas to come so early. There are even people out there who won't let their wives to listen to Christmas music in the house until Thanksgiving. These same kinds of people think that changing the entire Netflix queue to all Christmas movies is going overboard. I know, I know, who are these Grinches?

Sure, there are some who might be overwhelmed at the amount of Christmas paraphernalia already present in their local Walgreens. Maybe their wives didn't use up all the glue on purpose so, in terms of a leg lamp, they're all set.

But me, I like to see all of the decorations for sale, both tacky and classy. There's something about stretching Christmastime out that makes me happy. Not because I like to shop or because I buy into the frenzied pace of some people's holiday seasons. I like the feeling in the air; the contagious joy. People are more patient, more generous-- dare I say, jollier? What's wrong with stretching that out for as long as possible?

I would also consider myself a fan of baby Jesus. Sue me for getting religious on you but I enjoy being reminded of God's love during this time. How does a leg lamp remind you of God's love? you ask. Well, I'll tell you. It all has to do with tradition. Every Thanksgiving, when I was a kid, we would get out the boxes of decorations and begin to decorate the house. I would be playing with the Lladro creche (unbeknownst to Claudymom, obvi), my brother would have on our scratchy Santa hat, my sister would be singing carols at the top of her lungs all while my mom yelled out the window at my dad hanging the Christmas lights to make sure he did a good job decorating the trees. It was too cold for Claudymom to be outside so she settled for yelling her orders from the window. It was like this for years. These quirky traditions and decorations remind me of the love in my life and, since I believe God is in all people, the love God has for me. Even my demonic cat in her elf costume (gift from Claudymom) fills me with joy. Only Christmas can do that.

The real challenge for me is, Why does it take Christmastime for me to be so connected to deep joy? I must try harder to remember the poetic words of Dickens' classic, coming from the mouth of the converted Scrooge:

I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year!

Thoughts about Halloween

It's been a week since I posted last. My only explanation for not posting, for those of you who have been just miserable without me, is that I am very busy and important (READ: Bravo has been REALLY good lately. Another Real Housewives . . . what am I to do?).

But, I'm back. And I have opinions. Lots of them. Today, they're opinions about Halloween.

I've never been very good at Halloween. When I was little, my costumes were always sort of typical: I was a rock star, a clown, a baseball player and one year, a princess. I was never into the scary side of Halloween, with the obvious exception of my clown costume at age 9. The movie Scream still terrifies me so much that it is still painful to think of that night in ninth grade that I watched it with friends after the Homecoming dance. And NOT just because that is how Courteney Cox and David Arquette met and now they are no longer . . . sigh. Does nothing last in Hollywood?

Besides failing Hollywood relationships, there is another thing I just can't wrap my mind around: creepy Halloween decorations. Not Sister Wives creepy, but "undead" creepy. Take a look at what I'm talking about.

And I thought flamingo lawn ornaments were bad. This photo was taken in suburbia -- small children live here! Can't you just imagine putting up the decorations with the kids? Honey, can you grab the severed head from the garage? I stored it in the coffin next to you tricycle. If I had found this severed head at my house at age four, I would have piddled on the floor a la my old dog when she gets really excited. Ew.

But maybe you were tougher than I was? Maybe you could actually watch E.T. when you were little. And maybe these kids in Burlingame, CA actually like this sort of thing. Perhaps they're exchanging their Disney princess costumes for something more terrifying, like Bratz girls costumes. Either way, I don't want to be a part of it.

I basically climbed over a white picket fence into somebody's front yard to take this picture. It was awkward as the family who owns the house arrived just as I was snapping it. I put on my biggest fake smile to hide my judgment and said, I'm just taking pictures of your COOL Halloween decorations! They were onto me as my high-octave, high-decibel voice didn't successful hide my judgment. The skills I picked up while being a cheerleader in 1995 totally failed me here.

I think the worst for me is the fake spiderwebs. As if I don't have enough fear that spiders are going to jump out at any time to take me to their leader, spin me up in their web and eat me with their freaky little mouths (I didn't know if spiders actually had mouths or little pincher things, so I had to look it up and was further traumatized by the images I found. Thanks a lot, Google.).

If it weren't for the abundance of chocolate during this season and my new Harry Potter costume (Complete with yellow and red scarf with the Gryffindor crest. Thank you, dear sister!), I think I would throw out Halloween altogether. But, maybe you're into it. If so, I'll let you have it. I never judge, I'm just not like that.

You want some candy, little girl?