IF I CAN DO IT, SO CAN YOU

bemerrychalk

image via

One of the reasons I don’t write about extended family is because it’s a complicated subject. There are lots of hurt feelings, practically an ocean’s worth of water under a very long bridge, and for most of my adult life, I have chosen to remove myself from the chaos. For several years now, I haven’t spoken much, if at all, to any of my relatives on either side of my splintered family, a practice that is equally liberating as it is isolating.

The truth is, I carry around an awful lot of pain and sadness, big armfuls of agony I’ve somehow managed to collect one way or another. Hard as I might try to shutter away the darkness and to pay extra close attention to the good and the beautiful, it is always there, right under the surface, and it comes out to haunt me when I least expect it.

Like during the Holidays, for instance.

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THE CROWNING OF THE YEAR

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This is it, folks. The home stretch. All the candles on the Advent Wreath are illuminated, we’re more than halfway through Hanukkah, and tonight is the longest night of the year which might be the one I look forward to most of all. I love a good Winter Solstice the way I love a good song, a firm tug on the old heartstrings kind of thing. Also, there’s a new moon tonight and I read somewhere on Instagram that this will actually be the longest night in history? I’m not sure about that last bit, but it sure sounded mystical.

This part of the year just gets me, you guys. It’s my spirit season, I think, because I’m always filled with so much gratitude and inspiration, something about looking back and forward all at once, celebrating what has been and what is yet to come. All the caroling and cookie baking and tidings of good cheer, all the decorations and the stories and the movies, this stuff thrills me through and through.

We spent nine straight hours cleaning our house today – it might actually be shining like the top of Chrysler Building, thank you very much Mrs. Hannigan – and tomorrow morning, the Salvation Army will be coming by to collect a dozen bags filled with things that have worn their welcome with us but that might find new purpose elsewhere. I’ve intended to make this a sort of tradition for the past few years, and the fact that I’ve finally managed to pull it all together is extremely gratifying.

With only four sleeps until Christmas morning, the excitement is mounting by the minute. Our halls have had a proper decking and our tree is finally all gussied up in her holiday finest after spending three straight weeks standing in our living room naked as the day we brought her home from the lot. I’ve named her Aster, fitting for the lovely late bloomer she’s turned out to be, and she smells divine.

There are a few projects that need finishing, a few packages that need wrapping, and at least a half dozen movies that need watching before the big day arrives, not to mention countless cookies that need to be baked and eaten. All the makings of a cozy, quiet, homemade holiday with my happy, healthy(-ish, we’ve got some coughs and runny noses), adorable family in our super clean home in the hills of sunny San Diego. All my Christmas wishes granted, and I haven’t even opened a single present!

Wishing you and yours a week filled with joy, from the bottom of my very happy heart.

NOTE TO SELF

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Well, we didn’t make it out the door in time for jazz class Saturday morning, on account of too much hot cocoa and too many cookies, which I think might be the eight year old equivalent to a hangover? We partied preeeety hard Friday night, not one but two Christmas movies, and I stayed up extra late finishing the gift she and I made for her friend, the birthday girl. Mama + Daughter Date Nights are some of the very best, just saying.

I found myself with a few extra minutes on my hands this morning, which I put to good use by sitting down at my computer while sipping an extra cup of coffee, a rare luxury these days. Oh, Pinterest! How I’ve missed you! It’s the little things, really. The weekend flew by, and I blame it all on the fact we were busy busy busy. But here we are, Monday morning, with no school routine to speak of and how gloriously extravagant it feels to still be in my pajamas at nearly 10 AM. It helps that said pajamas are a pair of these, the coziest pants of all time. I might not ever take them off, actually. Sorry, B.

I’ve only two things on the agenda today – clean my house top to bottom, and brave the holiday crowds at the markets to gather the last of the necessities for Thursday’s feast – neither of which sounds particularly appealing. I’d much rather spend my day lazing about, making a mess in my studio and avoiding people altogether. There is nothing worse, in my humble opinion, than a parking lot during the Holidays. What is it with drivers? I miss my life as a cyclist every single day, but never more than during this time of year!

I realize none of this is particularly interesting, which, to me, is precisely what makes it so compelling. There is a kind of sweet, calm energy pulsing through my home, and it’s rather lovely to have nothing else clouding my brain for a change except how deliciously simple things can be if I choose to see them that way.

BEFORE THE HUSTLE AND BUSTLE

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my little owl on halloween

This time last year is still so vivid to me, the way it felt to have a baby in my belly and the anticipation of what it would be like to have a new little person join our family.

On Monday, that little person, one Roux Huckleberry Baker, turned precisely 39 weeks old. 9 whole calendar months, exactly. And as cozy as it was to be pregnant during the Holiday Season, it is that much more delicious to have a squishy baby with whom to enjoy all the festivities. Especially a baby as magnificent as my tiny guy.

Practically overnight, he had a massive growth spurt. He woke up one morning last week and actually fit into onesies I didn’t think he’d wear until well after his first birthday. And the scooching! All of the sudden, he’s everywhere. Under the couch, next to the ironing board (the iron wasn’t on, but still!), one minute he’s playing happily under his gym and the next he’s all the way wedged between my desk and a basket of silks. I have a lot of baby proofing to do!

We have experimented with Baby Led Weaning, which is both fascinating and terrifying. On the one hand, it makes complete sense to me, and on the other hand, it’s challenging and risky. While I have been really pleased with the success we’ve had with foods like broccoli and sweet potato and even these little baked lentil quinoa cakes, a small hemoglobin test at yesterday’s check up showed that Huckle is rather anemic. We’re introducing fortified cereals and a liquid supplement with the hope such remedies will increase the iron in his blood.

To think this is the only hiccup we’ve encountered since his birth is a reminder how blessed we have been. He really has come so far. And he is so darn cute, it’s almost silly. On Saturday mornings, I’ve been taking tap classes in Balboa Park. I wear Roux in my Solly Baby wrap, easily one of the highlights of my week, and oh how the sweet old ladies in my class adore him! They kiss his sweet cheeks and fawn over him and all I can think is how lucky I am that this incredible creature chose me to be his mama.

Our days begin well before the sun rises, my Huckle likes to get up early. Once I resigned myself to our predawn routine, I came to cherish those quiet hours when nearly everything is still asleep except us two. We keep all the lights off and snuggle under covers on the couch, babbling to each other before I have to begin my duties for the day. As much as I love my job, and am grateful to have work that is fulfilling and meaningful, it’s getting harder and harder for me to head off to work each morning, feeling like I’m missing out on so many little moments that I can never get back.

Time is passing by faster than ever, we’re heading into the part of year that seems to happen at warp speed, and all I want to do is stop here for a little while. Be with my baby before he’s not a baby anymore, to enjoy my home and my family and this season. To somehow remember all the tiny details – the nuances of his voice and the myriad of sounds that are beginning to emerge, to capture exactly the way it feels when his eager little fingers reach up to explore the landscape of my face, the way he smiles at me when he nurses – because honestly, it’s as if it’s all happened in an instant. And yet, as I plan next week’s menu, I know it’s been a year, a whole entire year, since I prepared a feast in my kitchen with a bump tucked under my apron.

I’m going to try my best to take it slow this season, to live in to each experience, to treasure the time and marvel at just how bittersweet its fleeting can be.