Yule 2009. A photo essay.

This was the first year that we had gifts actually under the tree...can you say no more todlers?


Score.


Photo credit to aiya.


Aunt jacki's cookie apprentice 1, and apprentice 2.


Dad doing what dad does best.


My signature thumbdrop cookies.


New metro shelves for me!


Sweetness.



Vaida in denial that her mom isn't holding her.




The doctor is in.

Happy new year.

days like these

So, Matty is sick today.

I opened at work, but once I got the news it was less than an hour and I was out the door and on my way home...which was nothing short of a Christmas miracle. I was thankful to my replacement, I even left him some money with a note attached that read "lunch is on me, thanks again!"

Carlos has done so many of the sick days with the kids, he gets paid sick time, and doesn't have to bother with getting shifts covered. So usually he stays home. On those days, mommy guilt usually gets the best of me.

So today, I'm thankful to be home with my buddy...he's worth every unpaid moment. The truth is, nobody can take care of him like I can. And he's so sweet when he's sick. He's not a grouchy one, just all tender and helpless.

I told him I was sorry he was sick. And he said "I'm sorry too, momma, but I feel better when you put washcloths on my neck."
These are the moments I feel like a really good mom.

I stroked his hair, and he drifted away to sleep. Then he woke up two minutes later, and barfed.

Poor little buddy.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

sigh.

Yesterday, I was at work, dodging cars in the parking lot, as I took out the trash. It was crisp and windy. I thought the clouds looked like snow clouds, but then I realized, I have no idea what snow clouds look like. But they looked like I'd imagine snow clouds would look, gray and billowy. In that moment, I wished a fluffy snow would fall, and wisp me straightaway to Christmas morning. I caught a glimpse of somebody taking a smoke break. It seemed like they were enjoying their solitude. My thoughts drifted away to memaw...always with the cigarette- always shining in my eyes. I missed her so bad it stung my throat. Tomorrow is 9 years since she died. I've thought about her seven billion times since then. I've told her I miss her, and how much I still needed her. She was my vision of perfection, although I knew she had flaws. She was my favorite place. She was Christmas.

Music was playing loudly, I assume for the marathon taking place across the street. Suddenly, "give it away" from red hot chili peppers came on. At first, I thought that was an odd song to hear in a public setting. And then I remembered, I'm 35. Pretty much everything caters to my age group. We generation X-ers are all grown up. We're the soccer moms, and the engineers. The nurses, and bankers.

Fighting the urge to break out a few dance moves, I closed the door on one of my favorite songs from the past...I had nothing more to do outside. I felt so sad in that moment. I felt like the chili peppers were mocking me. I felt like they knew they were hitting a nerve. I wanted to shout. I wanted to dance all over the monotony of my life. I want to take everything back that I've lost. I want to feel like I have a purpose. I want a farm house, without the farm. I want to help women have babies.

I want another Christmas with Memaw.

marked.

So, I'm 35 now.
Everyone tells me I don't look it.
What does a 35 year old look like, anyway?
I guess it just kinda depends.
I don't drink, smoke, or chew (or go with boys that do.)
I get enough sleep, I'm happy. Sure, I'm a little bigger than I wish I was...but I work a crazy retail schedule and spend 35ish hours a week making versions of things you'd find at dairy queen, and within 3 steps to a pastry case...so...

Overall, I think life is just getting better.
I'm a little more wise, a lot more compassionate, and I'm still me.
I regress to a 17 year old at the first chime of a REM or Cure song, so as long as I'm still in touch with those emotions, I can handle this gettin' older stuff.

I wanted to document something in my life, I wanted to mark the date of December 4, 2009.
It was the day before I was officially in my mid-30's and I didn't want to forget it. Every day leading up to it had compiled, and layered, and left me confident in the never ending faithfulness of God. I have for a long time, thought of myself as a bird. After all, I am free. I am taken care of. I am loved by my heavenly father. God has used his creation to inspire and remind me...his eyes are on the sparrow, and I know He's watching me.

So, I documented the day by getting a sparrow permanently embedded on my foot. It is my mark. I am a bird, and He is my home.

Even the sparrow finds a home,
and the swallow builds her nest
and raises her young at a place near your altar...Psalms 84:3

precious.

"i've been working on my cursive." -abraham
my 1st grader wrote this.

so precious.

world, I have overcome you.

If you work with the public, you might just understand what I'm talking about when I say that certain days play out like scenes from a bad movie. Certain interactions are the stuff that science fiction movies are made of. Like when someone sips a drink, right in front of you, (that they insisted be heated to 200 degrees) to test it and make sure it's "hot enough" and they don't even flinch. You just have to assume that they're either the devil or they're an alien who's esophagus is really a metal staircase that leads to the mothership, or something. Or a person will tell you something over and over, except each time it's slightly different, and it's just so confusing. And you just have to assume they're crazy, or really book-smart.

The overbearing ones are my least favorite, because they will ask you if it's nonfat, or a triple, or whatever it is, 37 times. And by the 24th time of saying yes m'aam/sir my voice does a squeaky, high pitch, I-REALLY-WANT- TO-SCREAM-BUT-I'M-KEEPING-MY-COOL- thing. Sometimes I think I'm being punked-but it's always for real.

Often, things that happen at my job are like some exaggerated version of things that happen at home, it's just usually messier and more annoying. Today, it was the plumbing backing up. Major nightmare.

I helped clean it. I wanted to cry. I thanked God that I'm not a janitor. I was infuriated. But I just cleaned it. And a coworker had made me soo mad. And I wanted to kick him in the face. But I didn't.

20 minutes latter, I was engaging corporate bigwigs in a coffee tasting.

An hour later I was eating french fries, even though I had brought a healthy lunch. argg.

On my way home, I listened to this song on repeat.

I feel better.

And, I'm not going back till Friday morning.