A planetary reminder

Loving as a kind (of) argument

All our hellos call
to each other

and now our smiles
are missiles

silence is the
scent

touch--the rocket
we make

translating "I"
as "you too"

come, come, come
let's go

Deck the Nu

In Christmas presents from head to toe
(headband, earrings, top, skirt, socks)
And I spy a proud mama in the mirror.

"tender and mild"

The picture the grandmas wanted.

At said the line "holy infant so tender and mild" in "Silent Night" always makes him think of chicken wings. And now I can't stop snickering when I hear my favorite carol.

In any case, our savory Christmas is in the books with breakfast pudding all day long, and biriyani for dinner.

We generated so little actual landfill trash (like a sandwich bag full, and mostly from the packaging on Nu's karaoke mic); I'm so proud of us.

Everyone liked/chuckled about their presents... But!!! Somehow this year, I was the one who got some really serious loot with gift cards, spa cards, planters, plant sticks, books, books, books, and... this is truly uncharacteristic--electronics!    

"We are never really ready for Christmas"

Or so the sermon says.

I'm ready.

Carols by candlelight, pizza (was going to be Big A's, but turned out to be delivery because we were out of yeast), cuddles (upstairs and downstairs), last minute packing (bows and ribbons), making sure everyone has the same number of gifts to open, teensy Nu breakdown (they didn't know WHAT TO PAINT FOR AT, and I had to remind them of the obvious--that At would love whatever they gave him), teensy Big A panic (he couldn't fall asleep and had to head for an overnight at work), and now kids are in their matching Christmas pajamas, tucked into bed with their Christmas-eve-book loot, breakfast casserole is prepped, and I'm headed to bed soon-ish.  

The Waiting Game

Back when Big A and his sister were tiny and being pesky and their dad was single parenting and busy, they'd play a game that had one rule and one objective: the player who was silent longest won. I know about this game because Big A tried to institute this game with our kids--perhaps a decade ago-- and failed spectacularly.

I'm not surprised--At and Nu were in charge of the raita today as I juggled the various tasks toward egg-paratha rolls (Big A's Boss Day pick) and every step of the way was chatter, and jokes, and negotiation (if I measure the cumin you should get the salt, I washed the cucumbers so you should wash the tomatoes, and on and on and on and on). I read somewhere that families should support kids learning to advocate and negotiate for themselves, but yesterday... I was torn between chuckling and wanting to     shut     it     down. The smoke alarm going off (as it does every time we fry up more than 10 parathas didn't help).

Still waiting to hear about things at work... but now I have a tower of toffee tea cakes, well watered plants, fully wrapped Christmas presents (not pictured), and a dwindling supply of unrefrigerated fruit to keep me company.

"Yes or no or maybe"

Big A set the kids to deep clean the bookshelves in their rooms, and Dori Chaconas's Momma, Will You? didn't make the cut. (The last time we did bedroom library evals, I convinced manipulated Nu into keeping it on a shelf of keepsakes.) But this lovely, lovely book that reminds me of the heft of a baby in my lap and a super cuddler by my side will now live in my upstairs library for ever.

For ever ever.

Because my human kids are eight years apart, this was a book I read to too-old-At and too-young-Nu, but they too still remember the refrain of "Yes or no or maybe;" the sometimes silly requests of the kids ("Momma will you wash the pig?/ Yes, or no or maybe?/In the tub! He's not too big./ Wash him with our baby."); and the always lovely and wise responses of the Momma: ("No, we will not catch a wren/ for wild things should fly free./ But I will sing a song for you,/And you sing one for me.")

I'm fairly certain I got this book from the Beavercreek Goodwill in 2008 or so, but I am so happy to see that it's still in print and seems to be universally appreciated.