Extraordinary Things

There's a load of dishes to unload from the dishwasher, and a Fisher-Price toy bomb has exploded all over the living room floor. The beds haven't been made and I may not get a shower today. Forget working out. Instead, I am snuggled on the couch with my daughter, flipping the channels between Sesame Street and the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade. I sip my coffee and skim over the colorfully loud Black Friday ads and before I know it, I've started to convince myself that we actually do, in fact, need a 40-inch LCD TV. Then my eye catches an adorable Betsey Johnson charm bracelet that they're also practically giving away. I think to myself that maybe I "need" some more jewelry too. Before I realize what's happening, I've created a bulleted, detailed mental list of things that I'm sure I've said I wanted at some point in the past. Maybe it was sub-conscious, even. But I'm sure I want(ed) these things. And at $____ a pop, it would be a crime NOT to buy them.

The truth is, I don't really remember what I got last year for Christmas, with the exception of maybe one or two things. I don't even remember what I bought everyone else on my list- though I can be sure it was things like non-descript sweaters, bedroom slippers, jewelry, random stocking stuffers- all marked down to a ridiculously low price and all for the sake of putting a tiny check mark by a name. I do, however, remember the picture I painted for Jake last year to give him for Christmas as well as the poem I wrote and gave to him the very first "married" Christmas we celebrated. I remember car trips from the Detroit airport to my parents' house- my home away from home- laughing at crazy Mad-lib stories and playing games of peek-a-boo with Ella. I can almost always conjure up the smell of cinnamon rolls and my mom's famous egg and sausage bake that she makes every Christmas morning. I remember a fabulous bottle of wine that Jake and I shared after we barely made it home one snowy Friday evening last December when we got our first official snow of the year and the "ugly sweater party" we threw last year.

Yet, even with those memories, I seem to be a walking sucker for the over-sensationalism of the Christmas season (and you can bet that commissioned sales-people can smell me approaching from miles away). Finding obscure justifications for needless expenditures is an art form I strive to perfect. I am often guilty of over-indulging and I can almost guarantee that I will spend more than I should this year. My futile strive for perfectionism always seems to peak during the Christmas season. I envision myself making Christmas cookies and red-velvet mocha truffles that would grace even Martha Stewart's table. And darn-it, I want my Christmas gifts to be wrapped in color-coordinated wrapping paper. (True story). Every year, I face the "want-it-alls," as if my holiday season would be less memorable if I don't find the perfect Christmas Eve outfit for Ella or I end up having to mix my Christmas cookies in plain mixing bowls, as opposed to the dainty winter ones I've been eyeing at Sur Le Table. I catch myself chasing down picture-perfect memories to paste into a mental scrapbook that is nothing if less than perfect (and accurate). And the expenses for trying to create such a book are far more than just monetary.

But this morning, I am hit with a simple reality and it is this: I am an ordinary girl whose life is filled with the extraordinary. And it isn't because I throw on a pair of designer jeans (by the way, never make the mistake of buying said designer maternity jeans in your first trimester. It will only piss you off when you've gained too much weight to be able to wear them in your third. I'm pretty sure the word for this is "karma"). But seriously, there is nothing about my life that is "ho-hum" and it has nothing to do with stuff. (This is the exact conclusion that retailers during this time of year don't want any of us arriving at). The truth is, I wake up in mismatched pajamas in a bed that hasn't been stripped or washed in weeks and I don't even know the thread count of our sheets but I do know that I wake up next to the man who let me have his heart five years ago- free of charge. In return, I have experienced love that is always changing, always growing and never settling to leave me the same as I was yesterday.

Extraordinary.

I am overwhelmed with laundry because I'm fortunate enough to be able to buy all the clothes that we need- and even more that we just simply want. Same with cooking and grocery shopping and cleaning out the fridge.

Extraordinary. (And undeserved).

I complain that we are very quickly running out of space in our tiny 1100 square foot home, but it's cozy and warm and filled with sweet nostalgia: a slow dance after a proposal that took place in what would become our bedroom, the first time I made breakfast for Jake when I burned all of the Belgian waffles, the late-night take-out and movies and bottles of wine, family get-togethers and birthday celebrations. Walking the hall at 2 a.m. on countless nights, shushing a tiny, peanut Ella and getting ready to do it again with my son in just two short months. When we move into a bigger house, I will cry for all of the precious memories that will be boxed up along with the dishes and books and knick-knacks.

Extraordinary.

I am inundated with cuddles and sloppy wet kisses from my daughter. Just because. She makes my world brighter and richer and full of possibility.

Extraordinary.

I struggle against an anxiety that threatens to consume my time, energy and thoughts- but it's a battle I'm learning never belonged to me in the first place. I'm learning, perhaps for the first time in my life, to loosen my white-knuckled grip on the handle-bars and let go. And when I do, someone is always there to catch me. Lots of "someones," in fact.

Extraordinary.

I'm grateful for the beautiful, poignant tapestry that is woven out of all of these extraordinaries in my life. May it always be more than enough to keep me humble. More than enough to propel me forward. And more than enough enough so that I can't keep it only for myself.

The Sound of Sleep...

This is day #2 that Ella has decided to sleep in. Usually, the term "sleeping in" is thrown around pretty loosely in our house. If I make it to 7:30 a.m., I feel like I've slept in (ah, long gone are the days where I hit the snooze button at 9:30 and rolled over for a few more minutes of uninterrupted bliss). My body has finally seemed to adjust to "toddler time" as well. On days when Ella is over at Jake's parents house, or she otherwise decides to randomly go past her usual 6:30-7:30 bracket, I'm usually awake or starting to stir around 6:45 or 7. Even given the opportunity to sleep in, my body just won't let me. Yay motherhood. ;-)

She went down at 7:30 last night, after a 3 hour nap from 2-5. It is now 9:35, and she's still going strong. I know, because I've already checked on her twice to make sure she's still, in fact, breathing. (Because part of motherhood requires you to rid yourself of any paranoia that something might be wrong before you can truly let yourself enjoy every last drop of your extra cup of coffee). Having rid myself of the worry (for now), I find it odd that I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. On the mornings she wakes me up early (or even at her usual time), I tend to sit in a glazed over state, holding my cup of coffee and thinking of all the things I could be doing if she were still asleep and yet when given the gift of time that is truly at *my* disposal, I drum my fingers on my coffee cup and peruse the internet and get antsy. What's up with that?

I could get a head start on a load of laundry, empty the dishwasher, hop on the treadmill for a quick powerwalk (if I'm feeling especially ambitious). Logically, I know there is a list a quarter-mile long that I could make of things that I *could* be doing. And while I'm always thankful to be given an extra few minutes of precious sleep (a commodity that will surely become even more rare and precious once Milo arrives), the truth is that my world wakes up and comes alive when she does. I wake up and immediately listen for her tiny, high pitched squeal and the sound of her musical seahorse and then eventually the dull thuds of all of her animals and books being chucked out of her crib. Something in me relaxes, even though I know that *my* time is over. No matter how tired and worn down I am from the previous days' antics, tantrums, nap-strikes, Sesame street songs and Elmo videos, jaunts in the yard, trips up and down the hall on my shoulders or driving in her cozy coupe, I am grateful for another day-another opportunity- to have my small world opened up by the tiny, curious hands of my daughter. My body might be unwilling and achy, but my heart is full and content. This is the reason I wake up. This, I have come to believe, is grace. ;-)

Christmas Shopping (According to Kdub)

It's about that time, peeps! (Or it already has been for some of us...) There are only 40 shopping days left 'til Christmas and while I suspect that most guys will wait until day 40 of this countdown, I have plans to have all of my gifts bought AND wrapped at least 2 weeks before the big man in the red suit makes his appearance (but we'll see how successful I really am at this). As entertaining as it is to watch my feet and ankles swell up like sausages, I've decided that, at 33 weeks pregnant, I will not want to go and stand in ridiculously long lines at the mall to find the perfect (and probably overpriced) sweater/earrings/scarf/kitchen gadget. I would reconsider if I had a Little Rascal to scoot around in, but my pride is too big to be swallowed at this point. (Give me another month though, and I might reconsider). Just for fun, and because I haven't posted anything in a while, some random thoughts (that I loosely refer to as "rules") when it applies to me and Christmas shopping. ;-)


1. Set a budget and stick to it.
You know, within a couple hundred bucks or so....

2. Shop when there are sales. If possible, combine with coupons or other savings cards you get in the mail.
This way, you can buy that cashmere scarf for your best friend and one for yourself.

3. Online shopping really is the way to go.
Coming from someone who loves to shop in stores and malls at Christmastime- if for nothing more than the nostalgia and overall warm Christmas fuzzies it gives me- even *I* can't deny the advantages of one-click purchasing. Really, who can argue with the concept of perusing stores in your pajamas with a cup of hot coffee while watching Christmas movies? Throw in some cinnamon rolls and I've pretty much died and gone to Heaven.

4. It's socially acceptable to start Christmas shopping as soon as Halloween is over.
(Maybe even sooner). I know a lot of people will disagree with this, but just take a walk through Target the day after Halloween. No sooner have the Jack-O-Lanterns been put on clearance than the Christmas trees, Santa figurines and holiday decor come busting out. If it's there on the shelf, then who can blame you for putting it in your cart? No time like the present!

5. While out Christmas shopping, it only makes sense to be listening to Christmas music.
Even if the weather is, oh, in the 70's- like it has been here in Richmond for the past 2 weeks. (Don't even get me started). It may feel like Christmas in July, but don't be ashamed. Go ahead and turn up the "Linus and Lucy" theme song and get your jam on. (Disclaimer: if you are caught listening to either "Christmas Shoes" or "Dominic the Donkey," you will be hunted and down and brusquely beat about the head with a giant candy cane).

6.. If you put it on a credit card, it doesn't really count towards your original Christmas budget.
This is probably one of my favorite self-imposed rules. If it doesn't come directly out of your account at that moment of purchase, you can pretend it didn't happen! This is especially beneficial for that pair of over-the-knee suede boots that were too good to pass up. Pure magic! Just tell yourself you'll deal with it in January. (I'm pretty much expecting Dave Ramsey to be beating down my door any second now...)

7. Buy people what they have specifically asked for.
Especially if you're lucky enough to have someone actually give you a specific list. I tend to adhere to this as the "Golden Rule" of Christmas shopping: do what you would like to have done to you. I'm sure we can all remember specific incidents as kids when we got what I like to call "filler gifts." If you left too much up in the air for the person shopping for you, you were liable to end up with granny panties, socks, a Richard Simmons workout DVD or some kind of inanimate object you can neither identify or determine it's use. These days, gift cards are not thought of as "taboo" or "thoughtless" as they might have been viewed once upon a time. If you don't have specifics, gift cards are the way to go.

8. It really isn't about the gifts.
(Duh). Contrary to some of the earlier "rules," of course, I know that it really isn't about checking off a list or maxing out a credit card, but it's easy to get sucked into the hype. Really, who doesn't love giving gifts to other people- even if it means going a little overboard? However, my excitement for Christmastime revolves more around being with family now-especially after having Ella- and sharing experiences together and reflecting upon a baby born in Bethlehem- a story that will bring even more significance to me this year as my own discomfort from being hugely pregnant with our son will serve as a precious reminder. (And yeah, I think riding on a donkey would be a sure-fire way to send me over the edge at this point). I know that the memories we will make this year will far outlast anything I could buy or wrap up in shiny paper, and this is a legacy I hope to pass on to Ella and Milo through the years. (Okay, that, first and foremeost- and THEN the art of Christmas shopping). ;-)