That Stupid Charlie Brown Song

Yay Christmas! For real, this is my favorite time of year. I will confess, I'd lost that loving feeling over the past several years, but that Christmas magic was just as potent this year as it was in grade school. My anticipation for Ava's reaction was beyond words. Watching her eyes get big in the face of soft, fuzzy, dancing, singing, lit up toys was hilarious. I cannot believe the generosity of those around my little family and am SO appreciative.

Adam did great, too! He put on a brave face for 48 hours and threw him into the lions dens' of the Nelson and Schmitt Holiday festivities and came out battle worn but no worse for the wear. I love that guy. It was wonderful to spend Christmas with him for the first time.

However, as the holiday season comes to an end, I find myself cursing that Charlie Brown Christmas movie with that one song- "Christmas time is here..."- it's the single most depressing Christmas song ever (perhaps with the exception of "Solider's Night Before Christmas" and "Christmas Shoes"), and it is rolling around in my head like a stale piece of stocking candy.

I suppose it fits my mood, though. Not that I'm sad, or melancholy... just reflective. This holiday season has also given me a great deal to mull over. For example, this was my first Christmas without my Grandma, and in a few days, it will be the one year anniversary of her initial admittance to the hospital. At Christmas, looking into the faces of my mom and her brothers and sisters... I saw what her passing had done. It has changed each and every one of us. Some are more caring and appreciative. Some are more reserved, hesitant to let down a wall and see too much emotion pour out. Others have become callous, cutting family out of their lives all together. The bad changes are few and far between. I felt like my Grandma swooped into our Christmas gathering for a little while, proud of her children and grandchildren, and in true Grandma fashion, flew back out to do her guardian angel thing with the rest of her ailing children.

I miss her very much. Somedays I don't think about it at all; it's like I could call her and ask her for a recipe any time I'd like. Other days I go to make that call and have the realization of her passing hit me all over again. Sometimes it's just a dull ache that won't go a way. I can't imagine what my mom is going through. Then I look at Ava... and I see both my Mom and my Grandma in her... and the tears turn a little sweeter.

Oh Ava. Another reason to reflect. It was right around this time last year that I found out she was comin' to town. At the time, I felt like I was a Santa Claus of my own, carrying around the heaviest gift load known to mankind, even if she physically wasn't that much at the time. My relative silence over her existence made last Christmas very strange indeed. In retrospect, she has been the best gift I ever could have dreamed, hoped, or prayed for. She has irrevocably changed my life and spurred me to want to change myself for the better. On Christmas, her pajamas depicted her as wrapped up with a tag that said, "Mom and Dad's Best Christmas Present Ever!" (Thanks Furg); truer words were never spoken (or written... or seen... whatev).

I also reconnected with some friends back home. Though only one of my marine boys is in town, the label I'd adorned him with for so long doesn't quite fit anymore. He's anything but a boy, and I was so proud of him. He's very much in love, mature beyond his years, and as caring and sweet as ever. I wish him nothing but happiness.

I also had a friend I'd lost touch with stop by. Though we'd sort of fallen away from each other under bitter and trivial circumstances... it was kind of like we just picked up where we'd left off. A nice feeling indeed.

Of course, Ava got to meet my two besties in the whole wide world, and while I'd been concerned that her presence might, I don't know... alter? the way we interact... nothing of the sort occured. Any "alteration" was merely the product of my own exhaustion.

However, my last reflection is the product of recent correspondence with someone from my past with someone I didn't know very well. I opened my email to find that a girl that I vaguely knew from high school had sent me a message on Facebook. When I opened it, I couldn't have been more shocked. She was asking questions about a situation that I, quite honestly, had no recollection of. As I read on, though, it made a lot of sense. Apparently, I had dismissed a situation involving her, paying it no attention, and in the end, wound up hurting her. Typical.

As we continued to exchange pleasantries (no worries, there's no ill will there anymore), I learned more about the young woman in a span of a few hours than I had bothered to absorb in four years of high school. She'd had the impression that I disliked her, which wasn't true at all. I began to wonder- how many other people did I hurt? Or ignore? How many people did I obliviously impact? I guess it just goes to show that we, all too often, are unaware of the way we shape the world around us.

This kind of ties into a conundrum I've been struggling with since I was little. I'm a very empathetic individual... probably too much so. Depending on when you've met me, this may or may not ring true with you. I've see sawed between this natural state of being and forced indifference for years. I don't know how many times I've been told I can't save the world (well... duh). At the same time, indifference doesn't sit well with my conscience. I try to balance it all out, and I know that in these early days of motherhood, I've resorted to indifference out of convenience, being too emotionally drained to be myself.

I guess this recent exchange has kind of been a wake up call. I can't afford to do that. It may be tiring or frustrating or overwhelming... but caring is what makes us human. I think of my closed off Aunts and Uncles, or of friendships that fell apart for like of trying, or other friendships that could meet the same fate without effort, and I know that indifference is no longer a luxury I can afford to partake in. When I think of my daughter, and how I want her to be brought up and who I want to help her become, I know that I will fail as a mother if I cannot be emotionally available and teach her to do the same. Does it invite pain? Yes. But without that pain, we don't know real joy, and we miss out on opportunities to really feel alive.

Well, I've finished my work work for the day, though I still have the house to clean. Perhaps I'll blast some music to try to clear the space between my ears of that melancholy Charlie Brown melody, without forgetting the lesson that accompanied it. Suggestions anyone?

Isn't She Lovely

Today was one of my favorite kinds of days. Adam didn't have work, I'm out of class, and Ava was content to lay between us. At least half of the day was spent lounging in bed, cuddled together. Ava would wake on occasion, and the only reason we would know is because she would start to kick her legs playfully and wind up socking us in the stomach or leg. After some cooing and bouncing, we'd give her a bottle, and she would drift back to sleep with us.

When we finally did wake up, she was still in a good mood. Her favorite thing to do is stare off at the lit up Christmas tree. I'll lay her under the branches, and she'll bat at the shiny, cheap, plastic ornaments like she has discovered an invaluable treasure. Her squeals and grunts could honestly entertain me for hours.

While I had originally intended to clean the house and do laundry all day today, my best laid plans fell right through my hands as I settled into the easy comfort of Adam's arms, Friday Night lights, and Ava's steady breathing. Between that and my ten cent poker games online, I now find myself gaping at the time. I'm leaving for Chicago not too long from now, and I've yet to wash the necessary clothes, pack for any of us, clean out the car or even think about the drive ahead. I think coffee, coffee, and more coffee will be the only thing that gets me home for the holidays tomorrow (or in 40 or so minutes, today).

I'm still waiting for my professors to post my grades. I'll have above a 3.0, thank goodness. I'm proud of myself. I know I talked a big talk about expectations for my school work this semester, but truth be told, I think I may have been trying to convince myself that I could do it. The only class that really tripped me up was statistics, but that's predictable. As I search for the grad school that will be a good fit for my fledgling family, I can breathe a little easier in the knowledge that, even with an infant, I can keep up.

Well, I probably should get things together for tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Don't call it a comeback...

It's been awhile, and I'm sorry for the delay, but life has been a little bit hectic, as I'm sure you can imagine. This has, all at once, been a semester from hell AND a blessing. Ava has transformed my life in ways I never thought possible. Sure, there's sleep deprivation, my new perfume (eau de baby puke), the perpetual mess I live in, and a constant stream of dirty diapers, but more than that, there's laughter, wonder and a tremendous sense of purpose. It is impossible to freak out about homework overload or memorization deadlines or debate assignments when you're watching Ava stare in amazement at the fish tank. It's a trip to watch her snicker with Adam's half-cocked smile, my chin, and her own mischievous sparkle in her eyes. I know I haven't kept up, but I promise I will start writing once a week. Unttil then, enjoy the baby girl's smile...