Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Who Loves Ya, Baby



The holidays are usually happy times; however, on Sunday, I totally understood how easily people can get depressed and stressed out during them. I think the holidays had me more stressed out than last year when I didn’t have a job. I had a job now, but I was stressed over how long I would keep it, and it appeared that my employer was going to make me wait to the bitter end to find out.

Fortunately, I did have a seven-year-old who still believed in Santa to keep me in the holiday spirit loop. She believed enough to make several Christmas lists just in case we lost one. And, she made sure every other day during the entire month of December that Santa had an alternate route into the house given we didn’t have a fireplace; Santa came in the slider door from the porch.

Nathan had long since abandoned Santa Claus. At 17, he now had a very blunt verbal Christmas list that went “Mom, can you just give me money?” While understanding how important it was to have some money, I couldn’t fathom putting a wad of cash under the tree.

I probably shouldn’t have contemplated it, but I did; I thought about buying him a new iTouch. He lost his on a “rolling down a hill with a girl” overnight at Tuft’s while visiting a friend. Knowing how he shared my love of music, though not the love of a lot of the same type of music, I knew there just had to be an iTouch under the tree for Nathan.

On Saturday afternoon, I went into Christmas shopping mode; actually, it really turned out to be more like a strategic military operation. I was going to very busy “upscale” mall on a weekend afternoon with Cathy, Melissa, and Suze during primo Christmas shopping hours; some might think that crazy. Actually, Suze did question the sanity of it all, and when I thought about it, it was going to be a small battle just to find a parking space.

With Suze as my co-pilot (when it isn’t Monty), we navigated around the mall on Saturday and found a parking spot within 5 minutes of entering the parking garage. We won the first battle. The second battle would be finding the rest of the troops, hoping that they were fortunate to have had the same parking luck that we did.

After successfully rendezvousing at Sear’s, we were all off in different direction with our lists. I glanced down and my list and realized that I needed to go to the American Girl store; oddly, this was the Christmas of re-giving presents that were maimed or lost in action. Iz wanted a new American Girl doll that looked “just like” her.

After hours of shopping and a dinner at the Cheesecake Factory, we all sat in the food court at 9:30 to rest our wearing legs and credit cards. Disgruntled that I found myself yet again taking full responsibility for Christmas shopping, I mentioned that I was peeved that all my efforts were assumed, unappreciated, and, in turn, I didn’t even get a call asking how the shopping day was going, nor was there ever such a call any day of the week.

Melissa picked up her phone. My phone began to ring. I laughed and asked, “What are you doing?”

She put her phone down. Within minutes, my phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Melissa and it said, “Hi, honey, how was shopping? Did you have fun?” I laughed out loud.

On Sunday morning, I wallowed in fun of the previous night’s shopping. I had made a dent in my list. iTouch – check! American Girl doll that looks like Iz – check!

Given that I was gone on Saturday, it was now time to do laundry and clean the house. Every now and then, I hoped that it would all magically happen when I was gone. It was distinctly possible; however, I was always disappointed when I came home to the dust kitties, those real and then those that gathered in the corner of each room.

After doing all I usually do on Saturday on Sunday, I saw the naked Xmas tree sitting in the corner of the living room. I always had put the lights on and had started the decorating effort. For some reason, the thought of yet doing something else on my own made me a bit glum.

Halloween is my favorite holiday; however, I think Christmas is my second favorite. I loved Christmas when I was growing up and all thing things my family used to do around the holiday. This holiday, I realized that I really had no one to share it with except for Iz.

Deflated in spirit, I medicated with Facebook. I read a post by my friend, Suze; it said, “Fireplace is lit. Christmas music is on. Skip's making spritz cookies. Saving sugar cookies for Katie's return and we'll repeat the process. Love Christmas.” I went downstairs, looked at the naked tree, and began to cry.

I missed Christmas, the Christmas I used to have what seemed like so long ago. It was about family. It was about making a fuss and not what someone uttered to me at Thanksgiving which was “Let’s not make a fuss.”

I went back upstairs. I clicked Like on Suze’s post. I then wrote, “I love this. -sigh-”

Within minutes, Suze responded with “Feel free to drive over! I only have cheap champagne on hand, but it makes good mimosas!” I sat there, pondering my guilt over not putting the lights up and then pondering what I really needed to inflate myself again. I wrote back and said I was heading over with a good bottle of champagne.

When I walked in Suze’s house, the fire was going, the music was playing, and there was Skip, Suze’s husband, in the kitchen making his spritz cookies. I had just arrived home. I realized then that this was a last Christmas of sorts, yet it was going to be a first Christmas of sorts, one where the love and spirit of the season was not necessarily going to be found in only my home and with only my family.

Suze popped open the champagne. We sat down at the kitchen table and sipped our Veuve Clicquot while Skip formed spritz cookies on tray after cookie tray. Of course, we helped by decorating when not sipping and by giggling when not sipping or decorating.

On the drive home, I realized that my life had really changed a lot these last few years. Even though some of it was bad, more of it was good. The great thing was that my life changed into something that was not the same as it once was but something different that was just as good.

My trip to Suze’s house was a huge warm welcoming hug on a cold and lonely day. The thing was that I knew I could go there, even when it was Summer and 90 degrees, and get the same hug. Inflated and embraced, I was ready to face my naked Christmas tree.

When I got home, I wrote Suze a note to thank her. Meanwhile, I saw Nathan posted a song on his Facebook page, and I clicked Like wondering if that would be Strike 2. With my faith renewed, I took a deep breath and posted a song to Nathan’s Facebook page; I knew it would probably get deleted and I would be shortly thereafter.

When I checked a few minutes later, my song was still there. Quite amazingly, Nathan had clicked Like on my song. Quite extraordinarily, Nathan then came out of his room and said, “Mom, I really love that song.”

In a holiday season usually filled with joy and love, I sat there and asked myself “Who loves ya, Baby?” I knew the answer. Whether it was a friend calling me “Honey” and asking me about my day, a friend enjoying champagne with me on a Sunday afternoon at 3pm over cookie decorations, or my son telling me he loved my music for once, I knew that everyone who really mattered in my life loved and appreciated me.

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