December 14, 2012

I have been meaning to repost my blog from last year on gifts of writing for Christmas for a couple of weeks now. And I am going to do that today but not without first saying a few words on the horrific events of Friday, December 14. 

I have been watching the news and trying to keep up with the details. I want to know about the children and their families. I want to talk to people about it even though it makes me cry every time. 

Putting my six year old daughter to bed the other night I was simply overcome.  As she drifted off to sleep, her head was rested in my lap and I purposely had my hand on her chest over her heart so I could feel it beating and be calmed by the rush of air flowing in and out of her little body. I stroked her face and her golden curls and wept.

I wept for the mothers and fathers who will never hold their beautiful children again. I wept for their broken families and for the small, happy lives forever interrupted. Since that fateful Friday, I have still been the same mom I was before.  I have been upset with my kids and annoyed with their usual antics.  I have rolled my eyes at the mess they walk away from and yelled at them to stop fighting. But, in the quiet moments, especially with my six year old, I have found myself lingering longer and holding tighter.

And so, because we are lucky enough that we still can, why not take up my challenge of giving a gift of writing for Christmas to let someone close to you know how you feel.  Take a moment to turn your feelings into words and your words into a poem. This year I have included more specific tips (thanks to Nancie Atwell) to guide you along. Last year I only know of two people who actually did this – and they were a couple! I have once again included the poem I wrote for my daughter. I wanted to capture her love of Christmas and how we share that love together.  I still have to write another one for this year and, like you, I have less than a week to do it.

Merry Christmas Everyone!
#26














Tips for Writing Your Poems

 1.       Brainstorm some things about the person you want to write about. What makes them special? What traditions do you share? What kinds of things define your relationship? Remember, these poems do not have to be about Christmas!

2.       How to break (end) the lines of poems – end on strong words (nouns, verbs, adjectives) and not on words like and, the, as, then, etc.

3.       Leads – begin inside the idea of your poem. Poems don’t need background information or explanation. Begin inside the experience.

4.       Conclusions – the ending should leave the reader with a feeling, idea or image. Don’t drag your poem on too long – end it when you’ve said what you wanted to say. Consider the echo structure – repeat an idea or line from the beginning.

5.       Cut it down – “I know a poem is finished when I can’t find another word to cut.” Bobbi Katz. Get rid of unimportant words and ineffective repetitions.

Good luck!



A sampling of gifts written by my students

Torturous Tradtions



                             2010 - full cooperation

Several years ago it became tradition to dress the kids up in their new Christmas pajamas, sit them in front of the tree and snap a photo to include in our Christmas cards. I can’t exactly remember how this started but I assume on some distant Christmas past when the kids were acting all jolly around the tree a spontaneous picture was taken and thus began the yearly photo.  Well, as of Christmas present, I am officially retiring the tradition.

Instead of jolly children huddled round the tree with anticipation and family love gleaming in their eyes, I have one who is too cool, one that will not sit down for more than one quick snap (and let’s face it – I usually take about fifty trying to find the perfect ‘spontaneous’ shot) and only one - my current favourite - who was trying her hardest to make the whole thing happen.

A picture of a picture :) of this year's photo.
I particularly love the green balloon in the background.

This year’s photo was a complete fiasco.  It began with bribing large amounts of candy right before bedtime so my two year old would let me do her hair. Then there was convincing my nine year old to put on his Christmas pajamas. As it was happening I felt like I was watching the scene from A Christmas Story when Ralphie has to wear the pink bunny outfit from Aunt Clara. I will not put him through this again. Then there was me, not at my best, yelling at everyone – even the dogs. (Note: I just went upstairs to get my daughter toilet paper and got sidetracked having a mother-son chat about the whole thing leaving said daughter stranded on the toilet for an unacceptable amount of time.)



                                                      1990

I could see the pain in my son’s eyes as I was yelling at him to sit closer to his sister and look happy for crying out loud. I remember those moments from my own past. We used to have to go for a ‘family’ walk to a bridge where we camp to get a photo of my sisters and me in the same spot every year. It was the worst part of going camping and you can see by my forced smile in every photo, spanning many years, that I was miserable. Why would I intentionally do that to my own kids? Or looking back, why didn’t I just cooperate to make my mom happy?

 

Interestingly, although I was only able to take one photo, it actually isn’t that bad and will probably make it into this year’s card.  And unless all three of my children spontaneously sit around the tree in their Christmas pajamas again, it will probably be the last of its kind. It feels a little sad to grow out of a tradition. I can feel us being pulled away from some of the things we have always done as the kids get older.  But I will not be a crazy person (on this matter anyway) and relentlessly force my family into something that inevitably makes all of us miserable.

Next year, I will look for a picture that captures my three kids as they are – imperfectly perfect – just the way I like them (after I’ve had a chance to reflect anyway).

 

 

1984 - I love these old shots. I have had many
discussions with my mother about this hair
cut she gave me. Even my daughter hates to
look at it.

                                                 

Holiday Happiness

I came home from work yesterday giddy with the anticipation of decorating the house for Christmas.  Eric pulled out all of the bins o’ Christmas so that everything would be ready to go. You see last year, when my daughter and I decided it was time to decorate, by the time we pulled everything out the moment had passed. It was very anti-climactic. I made a mental note to be much better prepared next time.

Decorating this year had all of its usual charm – and its shenanigans.  There was a healthy dose of happiness and excitement mixed with equal parts fighting and meltdowns (adults included). For a long time I held onto the fantasy of decorating my house as it was before children. You know, Christmas music playing, sipping tea, shedding a tear while I pulled out ornaments from my past – it was wonderful.  I came to hate my kids on decorating day – they were ruining everything! They were breaking sentimental ornaments, crying and trying to put their crappy crafts on my beautiful tree.

I don’t think my daughter will ever forget when she was admiring a snow globe my youngest sister gave me in 1993! and then proceeded to accidentally drop it on the floor. All I could do was watch in horror as it smashed – and scream - a primal scream that has probably emotionally scarred my poor daughter for life.

I do love to hear the kids excited about decorations they remember from Christmases past. I still remember those from my own childhood. There was the silver bell that played, well, Silver Bells that hung in our kitchen, the red wax carolers that we placed on the mantle and the patterned cloth of knotted spices that hung on the back of our door. I can even remember the smell of my house at Christmas – it was a combination of the wax and spices.  Oh how I loved Christmas as a child and all the magic it held. Over time, special traditions have continued while some slip away to make room for new ones.  I think it is the ones that have slipped away that make me look back with such fond nostalgia.

                                                  1983

Time, patience and wisdom have taught me to enjoy decorating with children. It is still wonderful. It is just different. I suppose I have significantly lowered my expectations. We now have two trees – one for white lights and glass ornaments that I have had since I was a teenager and a real tree with coloured lights and all of the homemade ornaments it can hold. I decorate in spite of the crying and fighting. I just tune it out and carry on like they are not even there. I still cry when I pull out ornaments but now I cry when I see those crappy crafts that hold a moment in time from one of my children’s past – a traced hand, a scribble or a picture of their beautiful face. 

*****************************************************************

 

And now, a list of what I consider Christmas musts.

Happy Christmas! (That’s British for Merry Christmas and sometimes I secretly wish I was British)

Music

Songza – This is an app for your ipod and there is also Songza.com.  It is a compilation of amazing playlists for whatever mood you are in and there is even a concierge to help you find the right play list. It has been playing the perfect mix of holiday music for hours on end in our house.

I have come to the conclusion that one of my favourite Christmas songs is Do They Know It’s Christmas Time? Weird, I know.

Movies
I know that I am not going to be telling most of you anything new but here is a list of the movies that I try to watch every Christmastime.

It’s A Wonderful Life

I force Eric to watch this with me every Christmas Eve after the kids have gone to bed while we finishing wrapping gifts. I love everything about this movie.

The Family Man

A  Christmas classic (I think) with Nicolas Cage as a single businessman who gets a glimpse of the life he missed by not having a family.

Elf

Will Ferrell as a man-elf. I laughed my ass off with a bunch of ten year old strangers in the movie theatre when I first saw this. My kid’s favourite.

The Holiday  

Cameron Diaz, Kate Winslet, Jude Law and Jack Black. It thought everyone had seen this movie by now but I just introduced it to a friend for the first time. I LOVE this movie.

Love Actually

Another GREAT movie. Really, if you haven’t seen this where have you been??? NOT for children.

A Christmas Story
This one just gets better every time I watch it. A great family night kind of movie.

Christmas Vacation

Probably the best Christmas movie ever made. (The period at the end of the sentence should be said out loud)

Dr. Seuss’ How the Grinch Stole Christmas

The Polar Express

Feel free to keep the list going by leaving your ideas in the comments list!

The Best of Me

I am not always proud of the things I think, say or do.  I try and hold myself to high moral standards but I fall dramatically short on a daily basis.  Sometimes I pick up garbage I walk by and sometimes I just look guiltily at it and keep going. Sometimes after I speak with someone who rubs me the wrong way I just keep it to myself and other times I unleash a verbal bashing that could very likely send me straight to hell.  The other morning, on my way into a meeting at ‘head office’ I had a moment that, had it been caught on camera (oh God I hope it wasn’t caught on camera), would confirm that I am a horrible person.

Ok. Let’s go back to that morning. I left the house with about two minutes to spare to get downtown, pick myself up a cup of tea, stop at the bakery for a muffin and get on my way to my out of town meeting. It was raining that morning and for some reason I skipped my rain coat for my wrap – bad move. I arrived at the meeting with exactly two minutes to spare and now all I had to do was walk into the building.

Let me go back to earlier in the morning when I spent a large portion of my getting ready time straightening my hair. Now, when I straighten my hair I expect it to last me three days – no moisture is to come into contact with it and I take great pains to protect it. Why, you may (or may not) be asking yourself did I not wear a raincoat with a hood then? An excellent question to which there is no answer.

Before I got out of the car I took off my wrap and draped it over my head. As I walked around to the passenger door to get my material (a large box) for the meeting and my tea my wrap kept sliding down and covering my eyes.  I had it mostly stabilized when I picked up the box and carefully balanced my tea on top. I had a long way to walk to the front door but I had seen a woman walk to the back of the building which was much closer to my car so I tried to follow her into the building that way.

My walk to those doors must have looked like I was attempting some sort of new-wave martial art while I tried to keep my cloak on my head and my tea on my box. I was lifting my knees, bending my head forward and walking like I was straddling something. It was so awkward and humiliating but I was determined to do it. When I got to the back doors they were of course locked. I used my knee to balance the box again and tried knocking. Wasn’t there anyone to help a woman clearly in distress?

I turned away irritated and headed for the front doors. Seconds later my coat began to slip and I tried desperately to keep it in place without using my unavailable hands. But my moves must have been too abrupt and my tea (that I drove downtown to get) began to slip. There was nothing I could do but watch it fall and explode on the ground. It lay in pieces – cup, lid, tea bag- in a puddle of tea and an actual puddle. This was clearly not my finest hour.

Shamefully, I looked around, pulled my wrap down one more time and said F*** it. That’s right. I just walked away from the mess I had made at my place of employment.  Not to mention how incriminating the garbage was. I might have been one of only two people who drove in from Stratford and I was carrying a cup that was very distinctly from Stratford.  Once I had composed myself in the meeting, I knew I would go back before leaving to clean up my mess. I also thought a photo of the tea cup carnage would make a great visual to go along with the story I knew I was going to write about. I was mortified when I returned and found someone else had already cleaned it up (and let’s face it I was disappointed to lose the visual).

And all of this for my hair - vanity at its worst. Had I seen one of my own children acting the way I did that morning – like an idiot I would have told them to smarten up and give their head a shake. And had I further seen them drop something and just leave it on the ground I would have told them I was ashamed of them and that I had raised them better.

Yes, I have many moments that are less than shining. Moments, that if I were to be judged by, would certainly secure my place in Dante’s inferno and probably cost me most of my friends. But there is more to me than just my worst of me. I can be selfish, difficult, high maintenance and a litter bug for sure but not always and thankfully, our friends, those we can really trust will laugh at worst parts of us because the best of us it worth it.

 This is very close to the way I looked that morning except I was carrying the box balancing my tea and I wasn't smiling.

 

 

Fa la la la la

Can you feel it? It is almost here. There are handmade tombstones on our front lawn, there is Halloween candy in the dish and the kid’s costumes are ready to go. And yet, I find myself wishing for Halloween to hurry up and get over with so I can start playing my Christmas CDs.  Oh yes, the Christmas spirit, while still under the surface, is beginning to swell inside me. This might make some of you stop reading right now but I am not ashamed of my love for all things Christmas.

No, you won’t hear me complaining about stores decorating for Christmas too early. Christmas music and the whole holiday season is the most beautiful time of the year and I want to wallow in it as long as possible. Even the kids are feeling it. Just the other day they asked if we could watch Elf for family night. It is a true Christmas classic (I was proud of them for this selection) but I had to resist my own temptation and convince them that Hocus Pocus was a more reasonable choice for this time of year.

I used to think November was the worst month of the year – so dark and gloomy – what was I thinking?  It is another full month to enjoy all that is Christmas. I do try and wait until after Remembrance Day to pull out any decorations. I don’t want to be tacky. It is always a little strange as well to be in full-blown Christmas mode and then head to Buffalo to celebrate the super late American Thanksgiving with my husband’s family.

Ah, it seems like just yesterday we were splashing in the waves at the beach on Labour Day to say goodbye to summer and in the blink of an eye we are about to usher in lights, tinsel and shortbread. Before the season is fully upon us the McCabes have a little homework to do.  You see, we focus fully on the commercial side of the Christmas season. There has never been any discussion on its religious significance. Shameful, I know.

This slight oversight became very pronounced at our annual Christmas Eve open house a year or two ago when one the visiting kids announced that it was Jesus’s birthday to which my son replied, ”Who’s Jesus?” 

For now, we’ll try and keep focussed on the fun of Halloween and I will simply enjoy the anticipation of being on the brink of non-stop Christmas music, holiday shopping and everyone being just a little bit happier. 

Happy Halloween...I suppose.

 

 

 

 

Fall Fog

Well, it’s been a long time. A long time considering I once penned a page or so faithfully every week.  Many thoughts have come and gone but none have seemed to draw me to my computer. I knew once I gave myself permission not to write every week it would be a slippery slope to hardly ever getting around to it.  I’m a bit of an all or nothing kind of girl. You know, I either don’t drink at all or I have four cosmos before everyone else has finished their first drink (ok, this hardly ever happens but there is never just one cosmo).

I would say I am emerging from a fog that hung over me all of September.  I was exhausted every day, all day. I was too tired to even lie on my couch at night. How is that even possible? Most nights I was collapsing in bed before all of the kids were tucked in for the night. My favourite time of day is when the kids are in bed and I was too tired to enjoy it.

When we approach September (teacher or not) it feels like a time of renewal. It’s like the mid-year version of January. You know, get back on track, start fresh; that kind of thing. So I think we all go into September excited and happy and then the reality of our lives – specifically the pace of our lives – smacks us in the face. The routine I was craving all of sudden seems unmanageable. How can anyone be this busy and be happy??? Each day was a blur of getting up, going to work, making dinner, trying to have some form of family time, bedtime (which in our house is a complete gong show) and then going to bed ourselves. I felt unable to sustain the life I had created for myself.

Thankfully, October arrived and the fog has seemed to lift. Clearly I have just adapted, once again, to the pace of our lives because it certainly has not become any less busy. Now when the kids are in bed I have again found the energy to have a couple of hours to myself; To veg on the couch watching tv, to look through magazines and just to putter around and feel on top of things once more.  We even started a movie at ten o’clock on a Thursday night last week - and finished it (How couldn’t we - Rock of Ages is a classic).

It feels good to feel myself again.  This life that seems so crazy at times is our life and it is the only life I would ever want.  Next year, when September approaches I will remind myself that while it is one of my favourite times of year it is equally one of my least favourites – if that makes any sense at all.

 

Cut

It is almost too soon to be writing about this topic, as the emotions are still so raw and so close to the surface. But sometimes, these things are best captured when the feelings are still swirling, still right there.

No one has died. I have not found out I have an incurable disease. We have not lost the house. But on Wednesday night my son and I walked into the dressing room on the final night of hockey tryouts and received the blow that he had been cut. The room seemed to collapse on both of us.

Now, some of you might roll your eyes at this (maybe even I would have not so long ago) and think there are much bigger problems in the world than not making a hockey team.  There are; of course there are.  But at that moment, and still now, it hurts.  It hurts to see my son upset, left behind and left out. It hurts to see our friends move on without us and to be uncertain about the future.

There were no politics involved, nothing to make me shout, “Wait! This is unfair. I want justice!”  No, he just wasn’t quite ready for the ‘big leagues’. It is almost harder not to have anyone to blame.

My son walked out of the dressing room strong. My eyes on the other hand began welling up almost immediately.  Leaving the arena, I did not want to make eye contact with anyone and by the time we reached the parking lot I was on the verge on becoming a blubbering disaster.  You see, I wanted to go to the final cut so I could be the one with him to hear he had made it.  I was not the right parent to deal face to face with his rejection.

It was not until we got home, wrapped in the strong but loving arms of his dad that our little guy fell apart (at least one of us had the sense not to cry in public). Then we were all hugging and telling our beloved son – and each other – that everything was going to be okay.

Prior to this year, getting cut from a team did not really bother #8.  He was just happy to be playing the game. And damn it, I wanted him to care.  But now he does care and I wish we could go back. Not caring would make all of this a lot easier. He is almost nine now and the carefree days of sport being only for fun are fading.  He has learned the hard way that there is more to sport that just playing and that is simply a part of growing up.

This weekend, he will play for his new team and sooner than later these difficult days will be in the past. He will make new friends and find his role once again. The game rolls on and we will (try to) roll with it.