Happy St. Lucia Day!

From the time I was a small girl, I have always wanted to celebrate St. Lucia Day. December 13th, a day marked in Sweden, Norway, and other northern countries, is marked by St. Lucia Day. A day honoring a Christian martyr, celebrated by the oldest girls in a family dressing as Lucia girls, and bringing coffee and buns to their parents. To celebrate my Swedish/Norwegian heritage, this year I dressed up as St. Lucia.

Did I also mention that it was my birthday on December 13th?

St. Lucia Day. My birthday. In my wedding dress, with my red sash, and homemade wreath of candles, I set out with two of my college friends to Seattle’s Pike Place Market to pass out candy canes as a strong female holiday character. To my great joy, there were many kids who said “Santa Lucia!” when they saw me. Seattle has a strong Swedish and Norwegian heritage, so it was fun to meet little blonde kids who had just come from dancing at the Nordic heritage museum and then getting candy canes from me at the market. A fun experience for me, too, and a great way to get another use out of my wedding dress!!

Advice for December Birthdays

Today two of my dearest friends from college are coming in to town. One from across the mountains, riding the train and taking a bus to see me. The other driving up from Portland, Oregon, all to celebrate my birthday. A December birthday. And I. Can’t. Wait.

So, it was surprising to me, to be in the grocery line at Fred Meyer, and have the cashier tell me that Potamus will get too many presents in December, and that he should celebrate his birthday in June. Um, what? I’m celebrating his BIRTHday lady, not a random June weekday. But this sentiment is something I get a lot “oh, poor thing, having a December birthday,” and the following are either: A) He will get TOO MANY PRESENTS and be overwhelmed and then a whole year of waiting will suck for him, so spread it out, or B) He won’t get ANY presents, because people will combine them together and he’ll get shafted.

As a December birthday girl, I gotta say: people are fucking dumb.

I loved having a month of presents and magic. My friend Ruth’s birthday is on December 31 and she said it’s like the whole world parties for her birthday. I know several December birthdays, and with the exception of those born on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, nobody seems to have much of an issue with it. Because let’s be honest, when else do you get a WHOLE MONTH OF PRESENTS AND MAGIC? Getting a few toys in June just doens’t compare to the exponential magic of holiday parties and birthday parties and Christmas Eve and going to grandparent’s houses, and celebrating “Winter Holiday” in school and it feels like you were born at this magical time with Jolly Old St. Nick and Jesus and there are reindeer, and snowmen and sure it’s not just for your birthday, but it’s sorta like getting invited to Prom by the most popular kid in school.

But sure, there’s some practical advice for celebrating a December Birthday:

1. Don’t be an asshole. Don’t tell the kid it sucks to be born in December and that they’re getting shafted. Mostly because it’s not true. And if it was, would they know any better? Are you the kind of Scrooge who tells kids Santa isn’t real, either? Don’t ruin Christmas. Don’t ruin birthdays. Got it?
2. Make your own traditions for celebrating birthdays vs. Christmas (or your Winter Holiday). My birthday is on the 13th, and so in my family we always waited to put the Christmas tree up until December 14th so that it didn’t feel like “my day” was being overshadowed. Since Potamus’ birthday is the 20th, I’m not sure if we’ll follow that same tradition, but we will definitely ask him how he feels when he gets older (we did the Christmas tree tradition because one year they did it earlier and I felt like my birthday was forgotten). Don’t go to birthday dinner and then do Santa pictures on the way home. Keep them separate.
3. Wrap gifts in birthday paper. There are Christmas presents and Birthday presents. And wrapping paper matters.
4. Be pro-active with school parties. Celebrate right before school lets out for break, cause it’s WAY harder to rustle kids and families up for birthday parties when they aren’t all in school together. Send invites well in advance. When I was in later elementary school my mom would host a sleepover or after school birthday party on the Friday school let out. Gave parents an excuse to go Christmas shopping before picking my friend’s up. And we all just rode the school bus together to my house, played, and had a blast. I never thought it was weird that it wasn’t a party on a Saturday or Sunday.
5. Let the birthday kid open gifts when he gets them. Package comes in the mail a week early? Celebrate! By far my favorite part of having a winter birthday was for once I didn’t have to wait forever. I had to wait to open Christmas gifts, because that was a family day, but birthday gifts? I got to open those on the 8th, or the 11th, or the 16th, whenever they came in. It added to the magic.

Embrace the magic, because December babies are full of magic. So I nodded politely at the grocery store cashier, and moved on my merry way.

Any other advice you might have for holiday time babies? 

Photos-The Half Truth Edition

For the past year I have seen many blogs about how the pictures we post on social media show a skewed view of life. And while I have always fundamentally agreed that yes, rarely do people show pictures on Instagram where they add a filter over their bulging anger face veins in a true-to-this-moment selfie. But I’ve also said that those picture moments are JUST AS REAL as the moments right before or after. They show one part of the story.

My opinions fundamentally haven’t changed on that opinion, but I have had two experiences in the past week that have caused me to be frustrated with my own portrayal of my life and emotions on social media. Because I have posted pictures of cool things, or times when I am smiling for the camera but am seething on the inside because all of my introverted faculties are being bombarded by an overwhelm of stimuli and I want to punch somebody in the face. In real life, I am a terrible faker. People know how I’m feeling from about 100 yards away, and those who can’t quite figure out my emotions usually assume it’s bad and steer clear of me unless I’m obviously putting out happy-clappy vibes. But on social media…that’s where I am good at faking.

For example…this sweet moment:

The reason we’re at this super sweet park is because my parent’s pissed me off at YET ANOTHER Christmas get together. They told me to “watch my tone” when I was frustrated about the noise level and the fact that Potamus was melting down and we still had three hours to go until the party was over. So while I snapped this adorable picture, I was actually standing outside in the cold without a coat or a sweater, and was trying to calm myself down. Potamus hadn’t napped, was way over stimulated, and we clearly both needed a little fresh air to cool off. But this pic got slapped up to Instagram and Facebook and it looks so sweet, and truthfully the moment WAS sweet, but inside I was seething.

Then there’s this moment, where I’m snuggled up with my sister…who actually turns out to have had a 102.5 fever. We’re mugging for the camera, and all is going well with us, but I am completely overhwelmed by the noise and heat and stimulation happening in my aunt’s house at this point. I’m holding it together for the pciture, but can you see the way I’m gripping the table and my sister’s arm like please keep me sane.

And all those adorable pictures from MOHAI? Reason that nobody else was in them was because my in-laws were clearly in a pissy mood, and so I decided to do the tour by myself. I enjoyed myself, truly, but was also freaking annoyed at yet another family function that turned into a shit storm because there are too many opinionated people trying to run the show.

I know that my photos tell a truth. They might not tell the WHOLE truth, which is what’s going on in my head, versus what’s happening around me, versus what I want to be happening. But I still stand by them, even those these last few interactions I’ve taken have actually felt cruddier than others. I know I’ll look back and know that there were sweet moments where I have seen Potamus grow, but I hate that there’s a discrepancy between what I sometimes feel, and what I look like in a photo…though who wants to look like a bitter uncomfortable hag in every photo? Haha!

What’s your thoughts/opinions on photos posted to social media? Photos in general?

Surviving the Holidays with a 2 year old

Good Lord the holidays are rough for little ones. Two days later and I still feel like we’re suffering the aftershocks from an almost week long sleep schedule fuckery celebration. While Potamus has been remarkably flexible with the over abundance of shiny wrapped things and sugary snacks, everyone has a limit. At 6:30 pm on Christmas night he was just DONE. Throwing things around my in-laws’s house, screaming, stomping, and just generally melting into a toddler sized puddle.

Thankfully, I have some quiet memories to savor when I look back on our time. There was the sweet Christmas morning, when, for the first time since Boof and I have been married, we woke up in our own home, and did our own Christmas routine. Boof made chocolate chip pancakes, and I wrapped a few small gifts that I bought for less than $20 at Value Village. It was maybe an hour of sweetness, but those moments are things I’ll treasure. It felt right and good for me to advocate for OUR family, rather than taking everyone else’s schedule into account. Sure he tore through the gifts in aproximately 45 seconds, and the dog had half chewed the toys by 10am, but the sweetness, of snuggling on the couch with our pancakes and seeing the twinkly tree in the corner, was totally worth it.

We’ve all survived. Potamus is still weaned, which feels freaking amazing. We’ve somehow managed to create a sweet little bedtime routine and he’s falling asleep on his own. Sure he still wakes up and comes into our bed to snuggle for the rest of the night, but one thing at a time, right? We have one more holiday party, on Sunday, to gear up for, and I’m hoping that after that things will go back to relative normalcy around here. He’ll be back in school, and with the exception of New Years, there won’t be any real changes to the schedule. I have so much compassion for families with more than 1 little person around, as it’s hard, on the kids, the parents, everyone. It’s both magical and so hard for all involved. I wish somehow there was a way to get off the crazy train and make it like that calm morning pancake memory.

How was your holiday season? Did your kids behave or get totally wound up? How do you deal with all the craziness?

 

Merry Yogamas

This morning, after presents were opened and pancakes devoured, I got the privilege to attend a silent yoga class. The same 26 bikram postures we practiced, but our teacher led us quietly through the poses, only telling us when to begin and when to end. There were fifteen of us breathing and sweating in unison, and the atmosphere was one of joy in the midst of the crazy holiday around us.

I’m so thankful this practice is changing my life.

Seattle Staycation

Boof and I spent the first nights without Potamus on a lovely Seattle Staycation. We were celebrating both my 31st birthday AND our 5th wedding anniversary, and while we do have dreams of travel again, this sweet winter-break tradition of heading into our beloved city stuck with us. This time, we stayed at The Max, which was a really cool indie pop themed hotel with a tiny room (with white sheets, glorious!) and a view of the Space Needle. It was heaven. A 15 minute drive from home, but it felt like worlds away.

On Friday night I squeezed into my engagement dress and we hoppped about the SLUT (South Lake Union Trolley gutter minds!) and headed over to my favorite steak restuarant: Daniels Broiler. It’s like heaven. Filet Mignon and garlic mashed potatoes, with a view of Lake Union and all of it’s boats lit up with festive Christmas lights. We joked, and held hands, and talked about the past five years and the next five to come. My favorite conversation was how we always manage to plan vacations around food…like the time to New York where we didn’t end up seeing many sights except on our way to eat hot dogs on Coney Island, or pizza at the ‘oldest’ place in little Italy, or the Woody Allen inspired pastrami sandwich. No matter how our politics or religious views ebb and flow over the years, we always have the foundation of our love of food and that if we were travel to Europe we’d rather see one museum in 3 weeks if it meant getting to sip cappuccinos and dine nightly on really good pasta.

Through the magic of Groupon and Living Social, our desires to eat and drink and be merry have intensified. Our Saturday morning was kicked off by bottomless mimosas and lots of laughter. We received many picture text messages from my parents, who were in charge of Potamus’s first time away from mama/dada, and it was cute to see how much fun he was having with them. It put my mind at ease, that we had made a really good decision to celebrate our love and get a few nights of uninterrupted sleep.

 

Five years of marriage. Two years of parenthood. Love.

Are You A Santa Baby?

My mom believed in Santa until she was 12, and when she found out, she had a crisis of faith. She thought her parents had lied to her. She thought God didn’t exist anymore. She didn’t know what to believe.

So we grew up knowing about Santa, but not actually believing in Santa. We took some Santa pictures each year, until the local neighborhood mall Santa was found out to be a sex offender, and watched shows where Santa was featured. We were instructed to not ‘ruin the story’ for other kids, so all through elementary school I kept my mouth shut when people asked if I believed in Santa. I knew presents came from my parents, that Christmas was about Jesus, and that there was some historical parts of the Santa story, as we learned about St. Nicholas and other world traditions around the Christmas time. I never felt like I was missing out.

Boof was raised in a totally different way. He believed in Santa. He got Santa presents every year, and doesn’t seem too damaged by learning it was a made up story. But when we got together I told him that Santa was not going to happen in our house. I wanted it to be like how I was raised. His mom was offended, thinking I was saying she was a bad mom for ‘lying’ to her kids about Santa. I didn’t actually believe that, or even say that, I just don’t know why Santa is such a big deal. I don’t mind imaginative play, or even learning about Santa, but I just can’t imagine teaching Potamus that his gifts come from a big guy dressed in red who comes down the chimney.

Now that Potamus is getting to the age where traditions and stories start to become a part of his life, I wonder how I, or we, will handle the Santa story. I don’t think Boof feels really strongly one way or the other, whereas I still feel squeamish about the whole thing. And yet, I don’t want my upbringing or brainwashing, to be transferred to my kid, who is perceptive and probably wouldn’t believe in a Santa story past 5 anyway. But I can’t help think about how religious stories and Santa/Tooth Fairy/etc stories are linked together. We learned about the spirit of Christmas without having it be attributed to Santa. But then, has that shaped my agnosticism…the lessons that goodness and love aren’t attributed to something like Santa…or even Jesus…like did my parent’s inadvertently set me up to struggle with any thing related to faith?

How do you handle the Santa story in your family?

Christmas Spirit

I really love the Christmas season, though, for me, I really just consider it the Winter Magical Wonderland season, because with my birthday on December 13, and our anniversary (and now Potamus’ birthday) on December 20th, the whole month of December is much more than just Christmas Day. But, as much as I love the magic of white Christmas lights, and have such nostalgia about Christmas memories from childhood, I’ve actually felt pretty grinchy about Christmas for the past few years.

And it wasn’t until reading Am I a Grinch or Will I Find the Christmas Spirit Someday? over on Offbeat Home, that I really started to articulate it to myself. Sure, in therapy, a few weeks ago I made the connection that Christmas has been stressful because we have managed to be everywhere for everyone for the past 5 years, and it’s exhausting (not to mention we’ve felt like we’ve half-assed a lot of it).

But as I was reflecting over on that post, I think what has contributed to my grinchyness feeling, as far as not really wanting to decorate my own house much, or get too into too many traditions, is that Boof’s family felt very solidified in terms of THEIR TRADITIONS. And whereas, my family had spent many years celebrating Christmas Eve, and then it switched to more Christmas Day, it felt more low-key. Of the people in my family, I was the one that usually felt most tied to a particular tradition, but that’s mostly around food than about the actual day or what we do. So, I liked Christmas Eve because we could open presents and then sleep instead of waking up early to open presents. Seemed much less stressful. But Boof’s family had a set specific ritual of driving across the state on-Christmas-day to make it to Eastern WA by dinner, having dinner in the woods with their grandparents, and then spending the next 5 hours systematically opening presents one by one and finally playing a game of Trivial Pursuit.

The thing is, I am just now realizing, that I expected that traditions would change when we got married. Not that I want the world to revolve around me, but I guess I just assumed that Boof and I would form a few more traditions of our own, and try less to fit into the traditions of either of our families. And I don’t think we did that. I think we actually tried to really hold on to the traditions of his family, and have me fit into them, which did work, and was fun, but then when I was pregnant and everything had to change it felt like I was the reason for change…like I was the bad guy…and not that things change when people get married and have kids. I felt responsible for throwing a wrench in the traditions, like the extra 10lbs of fat keeping you from fitting nicely into the jeans. And that wasn’t a good feeling. 

Before I had the mentality that my  house didn’t need to be Christmassy, because we wouldn’t be here for Christmas. We always traveled…even if just down the road to my in-laws or across the state to my parent’s, or across the state to Boof’s grandparent’s. But then, I was thrift shopping (mostly taking pictures of ridiculous things that people donate to thrift shops), and found the sweetest little Charlie Brown Christmas tree, with pre-lit lights, for only $20. And it’s put up, in the corner of our living room, by my bookshelf..and I love it. I don’t know why this 4 foot cheesy tree, with a giant hole of missing branches in the back, makes me teary eyed. I know it isn’t gonna be a tree we have for years and years, but it just feels right. Like we can sit around the Christmas tree on Christmas morning, before we head over to my in-law’s, and drink coffee and watch Jake & the Neverland Pirates, or not, and our house has a little Christmas cheer to it. It feels like I have come to a place where I realize that we can’t do everything, and we get to decide and explore what things we like and want. Like changing from Trivial Pursuit to Carcassone, because that’s a WAY BETTER game 😉

How have your holiday traditions changed over the years? Are you a Grinch or totally into the whole Christmas season?

The Difficulty in Attunement- or- I suck at Boundaries

Apparently, I learned in therapy this week, that I really suck at boundaries. Don’t worry, my therapist didn’t actually say that, but the realization that I actually do suck at putting up boundaries, especially with family, was evident by the conversation I was having with her. Somewhere along the line I started to attune to the world around me. And in order to get my needs met, I began to change and shift and mold myself based on the signals I was reading.

Yes, I blame adoption.

But I know that it’s probably much more complicated than living with genetic strangers who didn’t have an “automatic” attunement or attachment to me (or I to them) like I’ve experienced with Potamus. And who knows if my natural attunement toward him is even real or just going to screw him up just as much.

But somewhere later along the line I obviously made an almost-conscious decision to be everything to everybody. And I really think that the things that set the ball in motion for my current angst was the decision to spend our honeymoon travelling to various family member’s houses for Christmas. I was still hemorrhaging from my vagina and I was doing the dishes, with Boof, while our son was passed around like a football. I had failed to set a good boundary. Sure I tried before he was born, but once I was in the moment, like many times, I’ve gritted my teeth and bore it until much time and reflection later I realized: I’m really freaking tired and annoyed.

Next week “the holidays” start. I love Thanksgiving. but imaging the drive over Snoqualmie Pass with my son and our dog in our Subaru to battle other Thanksgiving traffic to spend two days with my family seems exhausting. And yet I also feel obligated. It’s their year after all…we’ve put it off long enough. But Christmas only a month later I know that I am really stretching myself, again, and all I want to do is sleep.

See, we got married on December 20th. Where most people would just leave right away on their honeymoon, we spent three nights away, and then drove to Eastern Washington and then to Idaho on a family Christmas ‘road trip’ to spend the holidays with our respective families. Because we hadn’t ever spent a holiday with each set of our families, even while engaged, we though it’d be “fun” to do. And it was. I enjoyed the time, getting to really mesh with our new in-laws and also get to spend time with my family for my own lovely traditions.

But.

But.

As we’re closely approaching our fifth wedding anniversary, I look back and think how pivotal that decision was to our overall experience relating to our families. While it was fun, and it solidified our experience of the traditions, it also created a dynamic where we knew what it was like to not miss out…nobody had to give anything up…though, to be honest, the rushed dither from here to there and back across the state was exhausting. And it felt like in both places we were really only giving 80%. Instead of saying ‘this year it’s my family, 100%’ it was sorta like we were half-assing everything.

And then Potamus was born….on our anniversary. And now suddenly we’re in this dilemma of celebrating his birthday, our anniversary (my birthday a week before our anniversary) AND Christmas…with both families. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I’m also exhausted remembering cooking “Christmas dinner” three days postpartum while my parents bickered over who had gotten more time holding the wee one.

So, tell me people, how do you put your and your immediate (children) family first and set boundaries with in-laws and extended family….especially when you also have the “I don’t want to miss out” mentality, too.

It’s like Christmas…every two years…

Every two years comes the amazing Christmas-like day, where you KNOW you aren’t getting a dumpy sweater or a bag full of socks. No no, you are getting some hot little techie number that sometimes you’ll use to make phone calls. But mostly you’ll hold it and stare at its beauty like Narcissus and play Angry Birds and check what people are eating rightnow. rightrightrightnow. Whatcha doing rightnowdamnitiwannaknowbecauseitsbeenatleast10seconds.

Yup, you know the day. Cell-phone upgrade package day!

The industry is in bed with the devil, but man it feels GOOD. I’ve been hobbling around with my HTC Evo Shift (slidey keyboard fun! yay!), that had been dropper (er, thrown at a wall when Potamus was so upset and I didn’t know what to do) and fixed once, okay, twice, in two years (because one time it randomly stopped letting me hear anyone on the other end of the line). As we head toward home plate we were downright limping. The ringer didn’t work, the SD card was almost full up of cute wittle pictures of babykins and everything just felt…slow..

Boof’s phone crapped out last week and so he went in to his super-stealthy Sprint highschool buddy and learned he could get an upgrade for his phone for CHEAPER than fixing it. WTF, but talk about jealous running through me as I have piddly slow “old” phone and he’s flashing is hip new HTC Evo upgrade. But, I learned that I could get an upgrade, too, and those last two days of waiting before Saturday was exactly like how I felt as a kid waiting for Christmas!

I chose the LG Optimus G, a flashy new phone with…get this…THIRTEEN megapixel camera. Boof was unimpressed, saying “but you have a nice camera that you use all the time.” So? Now I have an awesome tiny point and shoot that also makes phone calls. So, neener neener!

So far I am pretty darn happy. Cool features like photo-password unlock the phone (though not always reliable in poor lighting or with different hairstyles, boo), the camera is awesome (ability to take pictures WHILE filming!), and all the other neat flashy features of smartphones these days. I love a big screen and have found myself reading more of my phone-kindle, just because it’s easier to see than the old one! The one drawback is when I am running and the stopwatch is on, but the phone automatically turns off and so I have to keep logging in to see how long I’ve run. I know I can just change that in the settings, so no biggie. One worry is that I will run out of memory, as it doesn’t have a spot for a micro-SD card…it’s all just built in memory (but 32 gb of it, should be okay!). Might mean I can’t keep 8,000 photos on my phone…but that’s probably a good thing, right?