What a Year. What a Decade.

In less than three hours, a year (and a decade) will be over. I wasn't going to make a big deal about it, but I just can't let this day pass without pausing to reflect (out loud, apparently) on how much has changed.

Ten years ago, I had been married a little more than a year. I lived in a darling little apartment (well, actually, it was pretty damn run down, but we loved it to pieces), had two kitties and relatively few worries.

If you had asked me then what the next decade would bring? Well, I had a vague idea that somewhere along the way we'd buy a house, have a couple of kids and I'd quit my job to stay home and raise them.

I imagined I'd live behind a white picket fence, drop in regularly on my mom and pal around with the women who had been my friends since high school. I thought I'd learn how to cook, resign myself to cleaning and become the domestic goddess I was sure I was meant to be.

In short, I had no clue what was in store for me.

A lot has happened to me in the last ten years. I've struggled with depression. Changed careers a couple of times. Left behind all that was familiar to explore the great unknown (twice). Experienced more pain than I thought I was capable of withstanding—and more joy than I ever knew was possible.

There were years I wasn't sure I was going to make it. And others where I couldn't believe my luck.

But I wouldn't trade a single minute of the last decade. You know why? Because it took every one of those 5,256,000 seconds to get me to where I am today. They shaped who I am and helped me realize who I was meant to be.

They led me to the moment where I fed my baby her last bottle of 2009, kissed her good night and wished her sweet dreams. They brought me to my Tori—the best thing that's ever happened to me.

So tonight, I wish you all a very Happy New Year—and hope the next decade finds you living a life well lived.

How to Survive a Holiday Visit Home (with a baby).

Guess what? If you're reading this, you've survived the holidays (or at least most of them). Congratulations! I think you deserve a pat on the back. We all do.

I, of course, spent the holidays in Detroit. With my family. Allllll of my family. Complete with two sets of moms and dads, various siblings, their children and even a great grandparent or two. Which was lovely. Also, stressful, emotionally draining and exhausting.


But I got through it with my smile (mostly) intact. Want to know my secret? I've got ten of them.

When traveling with a nine-month-old, bring ear plugs. Last time we went home, Tori was still at the stage where she (mercifully) slept a lot. Not so much anymore. And, let me assure you, she was not pleased with the seating arrangement. Which she vocalized with the most obnoxious of screams. For hours at a stretch. Luckily, our radio is quite loud (it almost drowned them out). Next time, there will be ear plugs.

When someone asks you if you want a glass of wine, accept. Ah, alcohol. It takes the edge off, doesn't it? It also makes it easier to ignore insults and feign interest. Errr, just as an example.

When in situations where openly drinking isn't appropriate, switch to "pop." This is something I learned from a more experienced pair of parents. See, cola can hide a multitude of alcoholic lubricants, all of which make anything more fun. But the other relatives? Will just think you're exceptionally glad to see them.

When celebrating Christmas with a multitude of children, bring wire cutters.  Nothing can change excited giggles to frustrated screams faster than an overly well packaged toy. Enter wire cutters, the instant liberator. They made my husband the most popular man in the room.

When celebrating Christmas with an infant, lower expectations.  Everyone was excited to see Tori open her gifts. Everyone, that is, except for Tori. She really didn't get what the fuss was about. Didn't even want to rip the paper. Eat the paper, sure. But not rip it. I'm pretty sure her lack of interest frustrated a lot of folks. But I? Thoroughly enjoyed opening all those extra gifts.

When sleeping in a strange bed, remember you might need help getting to dreamland.  My best friends of the past week? Tylenol PM and Benadryl. No matter what the day had dished out, those little helpers made sure I was able to make my way to dreamland without first spending hours rehashing events.

When at the mercy of other people's cooking, remember the scale will eventually forgive you.  Sure, I may have eaten more calories in the last week than I usually consume in a month. But it was all in the name of family togetherness, so my waistline had to suffer. The scale? Deserves a holiday too.

When surrounded by free babysitters, remember to take advantage of it.  You know what I did this week? I spent more than two hours inside a single shoe store (DSW, I heart you). Obviously, I did not have a baby in tow. With two sets of doting grandparents within minutes of each other, Brian and I actually got to spend some quality time together. Without baby. It was almost enough to make me want to move home...almost.

When traveling during the winter months, remember to be flexible.  We were all set to come home on Monday. The car was packed, the kid was secured, and the dog was tied in. But winter? She had other plans. After seeing the highway was down to ruts, we turned around, going into the Holiday Visit Bonus Round.

When you finally get home, remember to appreciate the silence.  Sure, it might seem a little  quiet at first. A little lonely. But it's home. And in no time at all, you'll be back to dreading the next trip to the Motherland.

Wishing You All a Very Merry Christmas.

Dear readers,

As 2009 draws to a close, I'd like to take a minute to thank you all for everything you've shared with me this year.  A few months ago, no one but my very closest friends and family read this little blog of mine. And now? Now there's almost a hundred of you!

That might be small potatoes to some, but to me, it means the world. Thank you for being there. Thank you for listening to me whine, and for giving me advice. Thank you for laughing with me and for (virtually) wiping away my tears. Thank you for helping me navigate these first few months of motherhood and for assuring me it only gets worse.

Thank you.

This will be my last post for the next week or so—I'll be spending some quality time with my loved ones (and those who love to drive me crazy). But I'll be back soon (with plenty of new blog fodder, I'm sure).

In the meantime, have a very merry Christmas. May your days be filled with plenty of love, laughter, joy and whatever alcoholic beverage you need to get through all that family togetherness.

Hugs and kisses,
amber

The Meaning of Christmas - A Comedy Sketch

I actually wrote this a couple of years ago, but it never fails to make me laugh, so I thought I'd post it here. Now, if y'all will excuse me for a minute, I need to talk to my mom. Mom, this is not intended to be at all autobiographical so please don't get offended at anything in here, okay? 'Kay. Love you.

OPEN on a cozy Christmas scene, with two couples, one in their late 50s the other in their early 30s, sitting together sipping eggnog.

MOM: So how was the show?

DAUGHTER: You mean church? How was church?

MOM: Well, you know. With the decorations, the candles, the singing... it’s all the same, really.

DAUGHTER: The service was very nice, thank you. Just the thing to kick off a nice holiday.

DAD: Right. Just in case Christmas has anything to do with the church anymore.

DAUGHTER: Excuse me?

Her HUSBAND pats her knee comfortingly. DAD downs the last of his eggnog.

DAD: It’s about the money. That’s all it is.

DAUGHTER: The money.

Dad: Sure. Those Christians just needed another reason to suck money out of everyone’s pockets. So they invented a holiday, threw in another service…

MOM: Fill the church with mood lighting, sing some pretty songs, give everyone a little wine…

DAUGHTER: That’s communion wine!

DAD: Whatever. It all adds up to some wide open pockets.

DAUGHTER: And the whole birth of Christ thing…

MOM: Just an excuse to fleece the congregation.

DAD: If you ask me, that whole story probably started when some disciple found himself with a problem on his hands… virgin pregnant with the son of God sounds a whole lot better than knocked up teenaged whore when you’re trying to get someone a husband.

DAUGHTER finishes her cup in one gulp, then reaches for her husband’s glass and drains it.

DAUGHTER: Looks like we’re ready for a refill. Anyone else?

MOM: Oh, I’ll get it. You’re having such a nice talk with your father.

MOM leaves room, humming “We wish you a Merry Christmas” under her breath.

DAD: Just as an example… how much did you give tonight, Dudley?

HUSBAND: It’s Bradley.

DAD: Sorry about that. I’ll get it one of these days. You’ve been married such a short time.

DAUGHTER: Yep. Eight years. The blink of an eye, really.

DAD: That long? And still no grandchildren? Dudley, you should get yourself checked out. There might be something wrong.

DAUGHTER: DAD!

DAD: Well, you know, procreating is part of your Christian duty!

DAUGHTER: How would you know, Dad? You’re an atheist.

DAD: Oh, I know all about that Christianity stuff. Don’t kill your neighbor...

MOM enters room, bearing tray with eggnog, and begins handing them out.

MOM: Unless they’re Muslim!

DAD: And honor thy mother and father.

MOM: Unless they spend your inheritance before they die. Then you get to shoot ‘em.

DAD: Oh and let’s not forget—don’t covet thy neighbor’s wife…

MOM: But his children are fair game.

DAUGHTER: Alright, you guys. That’s enough. Can’t we just have a nice Christmas Eve for once?

DAD: Sure. Wouldn’t want to ruin what that nice church of yours started.

DAD gets up and stands in front of her, hand out.

DAUGHTER: What are you doing?

DAD: Waiting for you to pay me.

DAUGHTER: What, for the sheer pleasure of your company?

DAD: Well, money’s what Christmas is about, isn’t it? And we’ve given you a comfortable chair, some good alcohol…

MOM: There’s pumpkin pie in the kitchen!

DAD: And there’s pumpkin pie in the kitchen. I think that should be worth double what you gave that church of yours.

DAUGHTER Fine. Hang on a sec.

DAUGHTER slams out of the room.

There is an uncomfortable silence.

DAD: So, Dudley, how are things in that critter clinic of yours? Cut off any balls lately?

HUSBAND: No, but we’re having a post-holiday special next week. Maybe you should come in…. You could even bring the dogs.

DAD: (Surprised Laugh) Right, maybe I will.

Uncomfortable silence lengthens. DAUGHTER re-enters the room, towing an unkempt looking older man.

MOM: Samantha? Who’s your friend?

DAUGHTER: This is Jack.

MOM: And Jack is here because…

DAUGHTER pulls out her checkbook and begins writing.

DAUGHTER: Well, because I’m about to give Dad double what I gave the church. And the church is supposed to use our money to help the less fortunate. So I thought you two might like to use what I’m giving you…

Walks over and slaps the check in her stunned father’s hand.

DAUGHTER: To help poor Jack here.

JACK holds his hand out to MOM.

JACK: It’s nice to finally meet you…. I admire your shoes every morning when you walk past my alley.

MOM gingerly shakes his hand.

MOM: Is that the coat I threw out last year?

JACK: Probably. Red is my color, isn’t it?

MOM: Why is he here again?

DAUGHTER: Well, you’re much better people than the Christians, right? So why don’t you use my money to give Jack a nice hot meal—and maybe a bed for the night?

JACK: Oh, are y’all Jewish?

HUSBAND: No, they’re atheists.

JACK: Oh. Atheists. Well, that’s a relief.

DAD: A relief? Why?

The doorbell rings as Jack pulls a gun.

JACK: Well, I’d feel bad about this if Christmas meant something to y’all, but since it doesn’t… well, God would want me and mine to have your stuff. The meek shall inherit the earth and all that.

He opens the door and a parade of homeless men enters. A few break off from the pack and approach the family, who squawk and yell as they begin to tie them up. The others begin dismantling the room, TV, stereo, Christmas tree and all.

MOM: This is all your fault, Jerry!

DAD: My fault? How is it my fault?

MOM: All those things you were saying. You made God angry!

DAUGHTER: Oh, now you believe in God?

MOM: I never said I didn’t believe in God.

DAD: What? Yes, you did, just now.

MOM: No, I didn’t. You just assumed, Jerry. You always assume!

JACK: Would the four of you shut the hell up! You’re ruining my holiday!

A homeless man gags them with duct tape as the lights go down.

THE END

Holiday Card Dilemma.

For each of my 11 married years,  I've sent out your standard Christmas cards. The ones you find at Hallmark and Target and Borders. And I like them.

But now that we're a "family" and not just a married couple, I thought we should create a photo card, like all the other happy families do. Right? Right.

I even dragged my husband and baby to Sears to have the formal family holiday portrait taken (yes, I'm making myself barf from the saccharine too). Would someone remind me not to do that again? It was a nightmare.

But that's a story for another post.

At the end of the day, we came away with two pretty decent pictures. Pictures I fully intended to use on our holiday card.

This family portrait:

And this picture of Tori dressed in her Christmas finery:

 

 But yesterday, we were checking out the downtown Christmas decorations and snapped this picture:

Pretty adorable, right? And just begging for the caption, "Yes, Victoria, there is a Santa Claus."

So now I'm torn. Cheesy family portrait or this more creative option? I don't know what to do, and I have to decide fast. So I'm asking you, Internet. Which would you choose?

Santa, Could I Have a Minute?

Dear Santa,

I know you're a busy man. You've got millions of names to check off lists, billions of toys to wrap and a whole lot of reindeer to feed. But I was hoping you could take just a minute or two to read this letter.

It's not for me. I don't really need anything. Well, a baby translator would be nice (what do those screams mean???). As would a faster metabolism. And, since you asked, I really would like a kindle.

But that's not why I'm writing.

I'm writing on behalf of some people I know who could really use some holiday cheer this year.

Like my grandma. I know she's a nasty woman, Santa. I mean, yeah, she's made my mom cry on every Mother's Day since I can remember. Heck, even her compliments kinda feel like a slap across the face. But she's all alone. She's been alone since my grandfather died...almost 35 years ago.

You can see how that might make a person bitter, can't you? She says that he was the only man for her. That she wouldn't ever want another one of those hairy beasts cluttering up her life. But you know what? A little flirtation might do her good.

So, instead of presents, could you maybe bring her some flowers? Maybe take her for a twirl around the Christmas tree? Maybe even give her a little peck on the cheek? I'd give anything to see a real smile on her face (plus, it would make Christmas a whole lot more merry for the rest of us).

Also, all the working stiffs I know up in Detroit. I don't know if you've noticed, but about the only thing that could make the situation up there any worse is if a bomb went off (yes, I know portions of the city looks like several hundred already have. But that's just neglect).

Anyway, could you sprinkle some magic reindeer poop around and fix the auto industry? Or maybe just wrap up several hundred thousand bundles of cash and stuff them in everyone's stockings? If nothing else, could you at least make the winter slightly less nasty? They're already depressed. They don't need five months of sloshing through urine-stained slush under leaden skies to make it worse.

Lastly, my dog. Despite the fact that he gets organic dog food topped with specially cooked chicken breasts, sleeps on cushy couches and even has his own queen-sized bed (well, it's the guest bed. but really, it's his), that dog is depressed.

He's been depressed his whole life. Sure, sometimes we get a tail wag, or a half-hearted smile, but I swear that dog needs some Prozac. So...could you bring him some? Or maybe a light box (we've often wondered if our dog has SADD). It'd be nice to see him really happy for once.

Also, my husband would like a new car. And a Blu Ray player. And whatever gee whiz super cool gadget is about to take the world by storm.

But like I said, I don't really need anything. Except maybe eight uninterrupted hours of sleep. Make that twelve. Or at least, maybe a two hour nap, curled up on the couch on a sunny Sunday afternoon?

Do you think you could handle that? You'd have my ever-lasting gratitude.

XOXO,
amber

P.S. I'll make you those peanut butter cookies with the chocolate kisses in the middle. I know they're your favorite.

This was written as part of Mama Kat's Writing Workshop. The prompt I chose (obviously) was to write a letter to Santa. I'm sure there's tons of brilliant entries for you to read over at Mama Kat's, so head over there and check them out!

Turkey Coma.

Weeks of menu planning. Days of cleaning and cooking. All for...25 minutes of eating.

Granted, it was a meal to remember. My husband, the frustrated chef, made one hell of a turkey (which may have something to do with the cup of real butter he injected into its flesh). The mashed potatoes were so creamy they didn't even need gravy. And the stuffing?

Well, I made the stuffing, but it was still pretty darn good.

I also made a kick ass pumpkin cream cheese pie. But, when you think about it, there really wasn't much chance of that going wrong. I mean, pumpkin and cream cheese? Might be the world's second most tasty flavor combination (chocolate and peanut butter being the first).

There was one failure, though.

My pecan pie. I followed the instructions to the letter, and it looked and smelled wonderful (I should have taken a picture). But, like so many things that are beautiful on the surface, it disappointed once you saw (or, rather tasted) what lay beneath its gorgeous exterior.

It tasted like ass. Sugary, gelatinous ass.

I won't be making that one again.

And now? Now we have approximately 12 pounds of turkey left over, along with a vat of mashed potatoes, various breakfast loaves, quiche...it's a dieter's nightmare. Especially since we are back down to the two of us in the house (three, really, but one doesn't eat much).

But I have willpower. Or, at least I will...once that pumpkin cream cheese pie is gone.

Top Ten Things I'm Thankful For.

"If you pause to think, you'll have cause to thank."

That's what the sign of our local Presbyterian church reads right now. And you know what? It's completely true. It's easy to gloss over the good things in our lives, dwelling instead on the people who have done us wrong, or the things we lack. It's tempting to tell ourselves, "I'd be happy if only..."

It's much more difficult to live in the moment. To appreciate what (and who) we have. To be happy with our lot in life and just be. So today, in honor of Thanksgiving, I thought I'd take a moment to count my blessings.

And since you're here, lovely readers, you get to count them with me.

I'm thankful for the roof over my head. I know I'm lucky to have a roof at all when so many don't. But I'm thankful for this home in particular. After years of living in dumpy apartments, drafty townhouses and crummy fixer-uppers, we built this one from the ground up. And it? Is a house I'm glad to come home to.



I'm thankful for the internet.  I know we did without it for thousands of years, but it's become so much a part of my life, I can't imagine how. And to think, fifteen years ago, most of us didn't really know what the world wide web was...

I'm thankful to have a job to call my own. As some of you know, I'm from Detroit. Which is experiencing some hard times, to say the least. Many, many of my friends and family there have lost their jobs - and most of those who are still working are waiting for the ax to fall. It makes me intensely grateful for every paycheck that gets deposited in my account.

I'm thankful for my iPod. I work in a wall-less cubicle maze - and I have the focus of an ADD gnat. Without my trusty portable music library and headphones, I would never ever get anything done. Ever.



I'm thankful for modern medicine.  A hundred years ago, I probably would  have died in childbirth. So, however much we complain about the state of the medical system in our country, let's remember how much we owe the doctors and hospitals within it.

I'm thankful for the baby upstairs. I knew having a baby would change everything. But I didn't realize how insanely grateful I would feel every time I saw that gummy smile. She's a pooping, puking miracle, and I love her more every day.



I'm thankful for my running shoes. When I absolutely need to get away? Escape is as easy as tying on those shoes. Unfortunately, I don't make use of them nearly enough, but it's good to know they're there for me when I need them.

I'm thankful for my husband.  The yin to my yang. The right to my left. We're both completely insane, but in completely different ways. There's no one I'd rather have by my side as I navigate this wacky thing we call life.

I'm thankful for chamomile tea. And chocolate. When all else fails and I think I really might lose my mind, I sit down with a hot cup of tea and a bar of dark chocolate and just chill. That combo almost always brings me back from the brink.

Most of all, I'm thankful to be me. I'm a little crazy, a lot disorganized, and there are days I would give anything to trade lives with someone else, but really? I'm one lucky little bitch. It really is good to be me.

Now head over to Oh Amanda and check out some more Top Ten lists!

It's Beginning to Feel a Lot Like Christmas.

In case you missed it (and I don't know how you could, considering the commercials started in August), it's the holiday season again. Which has me feeling...conflicted.

Part of me loves the holidays - everything about them. Decorating the house, putting up the Christmas tree, baking all those cookies - it all makes me want to jump up and down and clap my hands like a little kid. Once the time changes and the night gets long and dark, I start pestering my  husband to put the lights up outside -  those twinkling, colored lights make my heart sing.

I even love Christmas shopping. At the mall. Yes, really. My mom and I  used to make an event of it - the day after Thanksgiving was Serious Shopping Day, and we'd spend hours combing the mall for the best deals on the softest, shiniest, glittery-est presents to stuff under the tree.

Now that I'm seven hours away, I kinda miss that.

There's also a part of me that dreads the holidays. I feel guilty admitting that, but it's true. Especially since we moved away and our trip home became an Event. There's always so much pressure. Everybody wants a piece of us (usually at the same time), and there's absolutely no way to make everyone happy.

Someone always ends up disappointed. Sometimes lots of someones.

And I? Spend the week with knotted up shoulders, a tension  headache and a sour stomach. Because, you see, I really want to make everyone happy. Especially during the holiday season. But I haven't figured out how to clone myself, so it's impossible.

Plus, I'm not naturally a very social person, so all that visiting starts to get to me after a while. I start longing for a quiet corner to hide in, or at least a bag I could put over my head.

By the time we head for home, I'm usually so exhausted that I spend the next three days sleeping.

But this year is different. This year there's Tori. She's not old enough to really appreciate all the hubbub around the holidays, but I'm looking forward to sharing it with her anyway.

I can't wait to put up the tree, so I can watch her face shine when she sees it glowing  for the first time. I want to buy her a stocking, and let her get her hands in the cookie dough (don't worry, I know she can't eat it yet).

I want to dress her up in pretty, absolutely useless frilly dresses. Take her to visit Santa. I even want to get one of those cheesy family portraits done (we may even wear matching clothes).

I want her to join in the chaos when her cousins rip into the Christmas presents under the tree. I want to see her face when she tastes turkey and mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie for the first time.

Above all, I want to share the joy of her first Christmas with everyone I love. Even if it kills me.

So, I'm going to try to leave my inner pessimist home this year. I'm going to do my best to get through it all with my smile intact and my shoulders loose. I'm going to try to enjoy myself.

Because you know what's really great about having a baby at Christmastime? It gives you an automatic excuse (lots of excuses) to get out of doing anything you don't want to do. After all, she has to eat, sleep, get her diaper changed...

I may actually get some quiet time this year.