Secret non family

"My secret family wouldn't do this" was a weird sentence I used to say 6-7 years ago. It was mainly meant for laughs, and the kids knew it was a joke, but it used to make them AND BIG A a little bit sad when  said it anyway.  And then Big A told a story about how my secret family was a bunch of raccoons and the joke is very firmly on me these days.

They sent me this picture on the family group text while they were off visiting grandparents in Yellow Springs. Haha. SO funny.

I had planned to take a few days to myself while the rest of the fam was gone, and then our furnace died last week, so I had the perfect excuse not to go (had to keep the taps from freezing). My plans were to veg out with Whole Foods carry out and movies with girlfriends and a spa day. But I slipped in the garden and hurt my back and am sitting here hopped up on Advil and hot tea and and feeling a little bit sorry for myself.

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.