I’ve asked the boys numerous times what there favorite thing about this past December was.

Each time they try to blurt out, “Getting presents on Christmas”, but I interrupt them before they can and tell them they can’t use that as an answer.

They quickly grow silent, thinking hard before answering.

I watch their faces and try to guess what they might answer this time around.

but I never seem to guess correctly.

They loved the advent calendar and all the wonderful surprises like Elf on the Shelf, movie night, day trip to Kango but especially PIZZA PARTY NIGHT, when they got to make their own chef hats for craft and their own pizzas for dinner!!

They loved North, which is what they named our elf on the shelf and laughed and giggled over all the funny things he did to us.

Snowball fight in the freezer

The underwear in the tree on Christmas Eve morning

I should also mention that they miss him very much(as do I).

Aidan says he loved the Christmas tree; watching Daddy and Jacek cut it down, decorating it and having it light up the parlor all month.

Jacek thinks being able to “really” help cut out, bake and decorate the Christmas cookies twice this year was pretty neat.

Without fail, every time I ask I get a different answer.

There’s something fantastic about that isn’t there?

I guess I feel the same way this time around, it was all my favorite but if I had to choose, one of mine would be this:

Driving The Polar Express (an advent special surprise) together (and no fighting)

What about you, do you have one favorite thing or can’t you decide either?

On or about December 4th I remembered, very clearly, why last year I only managed a few blog posts through out the month of December.

December is busy and in between everything that makes a Christmas special is the “normal” every day stuff.

The month was full;

of cookies and twinkling lights,

eyes full of surprise and wonder,

hidden treasures and lessons of love.

There was of course school, and trips to the store (many stores)

and let us not forget the arguments and the re-learning to share,

the messes and the tears (neither that lasted for long).

There were projects and crafts

an elf to find and advent envelopes to open daily

singing and dancing

pizza parties and movie nights

family, Santa

and lots and lots of fun.

December was without one thing, and this is probably the only thing I can say that December lacked at that is snow.

Every year near the end of say October I start to envision what our holiday season will be like.

With all the “elders” that gently remind me to “enjoy every second because they grow up so fast” it is hard not to feel pressured to create the BEST Christmas the boys have ever had.

Once the house is decorated though and the first batch of sugar cookies wait on the table to be grossly decorated with the cleverly disguised pieces of sugar I recognize what I always do every season, what is truly important.

I still allow myself to get caught up in the hustle though because a sick part of me truly loves the rush of euphoria it creates in my head and I admit, which I’m sure most of you already know, that I also over indulge in the material goodies that the season has unfortunately become all to well known for.

I do though, rejoice in my own way, I count my blessings, I give thanks and I try to be kind and good.

I love those that love me and even some that might not.

I stared at my sparkly twinkling tree each night, studying the ornaments that are beginning to resemble a collection of a well worn in family and I let the true holiday spirit take its place inside me.

For a few days there wasn’t much else that mattered.

And it was good, like the best kind of good.

Aside from a few days here and there, Aidan has been going to school every Tuesday and Thursday from 12:30 – 2:30.

In the beginning I was all amped up because I was  certain I would use the two hours of “free” time to relax, read, watch a movie, write, get stuff done, etc.

I still haven’t figured it out though.

It’s been almost two months and I still come home from dropping him off not really sure what I should be doing.

Many times I just pace around the house while my over tuned ears make me think I am hearing things “go bump in the day” and I curse this two hour quiet house.

After two months I still feel like I’m just waiting for the two hours to pass until I head back out to pick him up.

Sometimes I sit in front of my computer with the best intentions, facebook normally steals my attention though or I daydream which isn’t always a bad thing but it doesn’t feel constructive to me.

This two hour conundrum scares me because next year there will be almost 8 hours to contend with.

It’s not that I don’t have things that need doing because I do, maybe two hours isn’t really enough for me to feel I can relax, get into a writing zone, veg out or get motivated.

Whatever it is, I hope I can figure it out because some days it really irritates me, the feeling like I should really be doing something but not knowing what that something is.

Does this mean I need a hobby?

My words have been quiet but my hands busy.

Since before Thanksgiving there has been extreme organization followed by Christmas spirit explosion.

Tonight my husband asked me if I was done decorating for Christmas.

I am.

Well, except for the Christmas tree part, we haven’t gotten it yet, but I reserved its spot in the house and the tote with all the tree decorations lies in wait.

The tree should be in the house on Sunday and the winter wonderland transformation will be complete.

Our advent calender is set to begin with an introduction of Elf on the Shelf. today after Jacek gets off the school bus.

He is the cutest thing isn’t he?!  I can’t wait for the boys to name him and the fun to begin.

Aside from decorations and advent planning I’ve gotten the menu planned for the first two weeks not to mention for Christmas, a to do list that is more crossed out then not, and only a few presents left to buy.

This time around I’m so organized I am actually worried that I might be wound too tight and will come unraveled by mid-month.

But it all helps me be more relaxed, odd as that sounds.

This morning I enjoyed a cup of coffee, enjoying my newly decorated house from the comfort of my couch.

And that is exactly how I plan to spend every morning this December.

Today was a Candy Land day.

In between putting down the last and final (hooray) coat of paint in the hallway I got left behind in Ginger bread forest and forgotten on gumdrop mountain.

I could very well be the worst player ever to have played Candy Land.

Now that I’m thinking about it I don’t recall ever winning, EVER,  although even if I had the boys would never remember that I did.

But I suppose that I would remember so I guess I haven’t.

There’s nothing worse then a 3 year old beating you to King Kandy and eating every last pretend gumdrop and licking every last lollipop before you get there…like 10 years later.

On the other side of the fence…cause Candy Land has two sides….is the realization that your 3 year old totally just rocked out his colors and completely played the game like a big boy with NO whining or fussing which could be because he was a good pace ahead of me every time we played but either way, he did great.

It was a battle every time but I did not conquer the Molasses Swamp or make my way out of Lollipop Forest but I will say that today was the best time I have ever had playing a board game with Aidan.

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My other boy and I played our matches a little more leisurely.

He’s almost 6 and his approach to the game was entirely different then the last time we played (probably as he would say, because he was only 5 then).

He was fast, he was all about getting the double color cards, he laughed as I got sent back time and time again, he taunted me and said “Ha, ha Momma you lost AGAIN!”

I loved every second of it.

We ate lunch while we played and I let his orange cheese puffed residued fingers touch all the cards.

I offered him hot cocoa too and we put in extra marshmallows!

Some days are like this…simple and easy.

Fun.

No effort.

Candyland days.

I can’t wait to go back.

The thing about distraction is that it can you take you somewhere else entirely different then where you originally had planned to go.

Sometimes that’s nice especially when those distractions are family oriented and good.

Sadly though most distractions are not and they take you in the opposite direction.

Saturday I felt overwhelmed, like life was getting just a bit to unorganized and the hustle and bustle was going to bust out and plow me down.

By the end of the weekend I felt it less but I had suffered two more hits to my 30 days of consecutive blogging record for November.

Again though I have no complaints nor regrets and so I must believe I continue to make the right choices as far as it’s concerned.

The reasoning behind Nablopomo is to form a habit of blogging but I already know the benefits of writing, understand the more you do it the more you want to, and know the difference between choosing to and feeling forced to.

I can not sacrifice words or use them blindly so I don’t.

I thought about words to fill the space but the distractions chased the inspiration.

I simply had no use for words this weekend and they had no use for me at least not here on the page.

Sometimes I just have to be okay with that.

Painting seems to have stolen my thoughts anyway.

They seem to come out with each stroke and on the walls in front of me they create their story.

The new color transforms the room and my perspective and then disappears with the next stroke.

My projects to complete before decorating for Christmas can begin are almost finished.

But before all that, this coming week is about Thanksgiving, being thankful and taking the time to say and be so.

I am going to allow myself to be distracted.

I will be thankful for it and not complain about it.

What are you thankful for?

The kindergartners had a “formal”Thanksgiving feast during lunch today.

When Jacek brought home the information slip a few weeks ago it indicated we had the option to either purchase a turkey lunch from the school or to bring a bagged lunch.

I admit I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of a turkey dinner from a school’s cafeteria.

I mean no offense to the the workers, I’m sure it was delicious but the thought of the scooped mashed potatoes, stuffing and slurpy turkeysomething brought back way to many memories of school lunches of the past.

I declined.

Jacek also declined.

Aidan may have eaten the lunch but I preferred the option that provided the lowest chance of freak out on his part.

Aidan declined.

So this morning I dressed Jacek in a cute button down shirt and Aidan wore a striped sweater.

I wore not what I wanted to wear which was a orange sweater dress that I can’t find tall brown boots to wear with but rather an outfit that I would wear to work on the weekends.

We were all dressed up.

Aidan and I met up with Jacek in the hallway outside the school’s office and we walked down the rest of the way to the cafeteria along with his class.

There were long tables decorated with orange paper cloths and little wooden turkeys that the kids had painted and glued feathers too.

We didn’t have to wait in line with the all the other Moms and Dads and children because we weren’t buying the turkey lunch.

Jacek led me to the spot he had selected for us earlier that morning, his little brown turkey waited in front of our places, the feathers fluttered as we set our lunch pails down and got situated.Then he grabbed his homemade place mat and proudly presented it to me.

I am thankful for you too I told him.  So thankful.

The rest of the long table sat empty as people filled their trays and made their selections in the cafeteria line.

We opened our lunches and started in on our sandwich’s, one bologna, one salami and the other peanut butter and fluff.

There were also cheese sticks, apple sauce packs, potato chips and juice boxes.

Quite the little feast.

The smell of turkey surrounded us as the rest of the class and their guests joined us at the table.

The ice cream shaped scoops of stuffing and mashed potatoes jiggled on their trays as that sat down and began to eat.

I leaned over to Jacek and told him we should get dressed up and eat bologna more often.

He giggled and agreed.

When projects go swimmingly I am a happy lady.

A week ago today I slapped a fresh coat of paint on the parlor walls and re-purposed a bunch of things from other rooms to decorate with.

It was purple, with a piano taking up much of the space, and a purple couch tucked in the corner.

Now it is quite possibly my favorite space in the house, with its robin egg blue walls, brown slipcovered couch and inviting feel.

I love that room!  (pictures hopefully soon)

Because I finished that project over a week a head of time (when does that ever happen?!?) I started another.

The main stairway which leads up to the boys room is right now painted a gray and a green.

The bright new color of the parlor makes the hallway seem cold and dreary.

So, now I’m changing the color of the steps and the walls.

I don’t know what it is about making something new again that I love so much.

It is definitely one of my favorite things though.

Especially when it goes swimmingly!

I could say I immediately regretted the decision the moment the remote control left my hand and went sailing across the room but that isn’t the truth.

There was about 11 seconds in between feeling frustrated as hell and guilty as hell where I ranted and cursed and carried on like a belligerent drunk.

In those 11 seconds I actually formed a crazy persons list of reasons that made my behavior and choices okay, justified the remote control laying in 8 pieces across the floor, and potentially removed any wrong doing on my part.

My little boy crying because he didn’t understand what he had done wrong was what snapped me back to what the hell did I just do mode.

Had I been feeling run down today?  Did I lay down on the floor to cuddle with my little man in front of the fire?  Had he politely asked to watch video instead?  Had he at some point pushed a wrong button on the remote and was met with a blue screen?

Yes.

Did he not bother me about the blue screen and try to figure it out himself because he is such a grown up little boy?  Did I awaken slightly and notice the blue screen and try to instruct him on what he needed to do?  Had he gotten confused and unsure of what I was barking at him to do?

Yes.

Sometimes stupid stuff can feel so much bigger then it really is.

It never is bigger.  Ever.

I told my little boy that I had been naughty not him.

I hugged him and kissed him and apologized until he told me to stop being yucky on his face.

I picked up the pieces of the remote and tried to put it back together.

Our day continued on as normal.

He reminded me at bedtime, not to be naughty tomorrow.

The tears caught in my throat.

Knowing I hurt his heart sits like a heavy weight on mine.

As a parent I know I’m not perfect but my boys, they don’t know that yet.

It’s a lesson they will eventually learn in time; no one is perfect.

I just wish I wasn’t the one showing them its truth.

A downside of blogging, at least for me, is that when holidays and/or special events roll around I find myself attempting to write something original about the same thing I’ve already written about.
Sometimes the repeated words and sentiment taint the intended meaning.
I’ve decided against racking my brain for another way to convey what my birthday means to me at least until the feelings change.
The below post I wrote in 2009 captures the essence of my birthday and what I feel about the day I was born on.
I have edited it only to correctly reflect time

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Today is my birthday.  Today is the day I came into this world as Kerri Lynn Wheeler.
34 years ago today my parents welcomed their 3rd daughter into their arms and my sisters had little ‘ol me to smother and tease and resent, oh and love.

34 years ago I made my parents and sisters a family of 5.
Today I have a family of my own. I am a wife and a Mommy.

As I continue to walk this path of self discovery – I’m learning that I’m many other things as well.

but today I want to focus on the things that come to mind as I sit here and think about my birthday.

When I think about my birthday I think about

my parents when they were young.

I think about the excitement and the fear they must have felt being a young married couple beginning their life together.

I think about them wanting a family and imagining what their future children would look like, act like, become.
To finally understand and relate to many of the things that seem mysterious to us as children…that my parents were just Butch and Diana before they were Dad and Mom is an enlightning moment.
I think about them now as the loving parents they have always been to me. Ever thankful and blessed by the universe for their presence still, their constant support, shared laughs, hugs, kisses, and strength.

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I think about how my Mom always made 2 cakes for us on our birthdays. A regular birthday cake and the other what I called a sponge cake or Angel Food Cake, sprinkled with powdered sugar. I can still hear the beaters scraping the bottom of the mixing bowl as my Mom prepared the cakes while I was tucked in my bed. I remember smelling the sweetness drift up as they baked and feeling the butterflies in my stomach as I drifted off to sleep the night before my birthday. In my bedroom, with bluebird wallpaper. Safe.

The parties changing from roller skating fun to even sillier ones at Chuck E Cheeses when I was 15 and continuing through senior year.
I think of my childhood friends. Most of which I know and talk with still. I made my friendships matter. Even if we don’t talk much now nothing changes the impact they’ve had on my life and who I’ve become.
And my new friends that share with me the simple pleasures of every day life, every day struggles, accomplishing goals and surviving, I think of them.

She was by my side longer then any other significant other. Darren will tie that record in 1 year.  She was my baby girl, my boogie. Kisses between the eyes baby girl. Always.

I think about my Grandfather even more then I do on his own birthday. I can feel the heat of his lit cigarette that he held with his lips as I leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

I smell his rich spicy cologne.

I hear his gruff voice.

I feel his flick on my elbow.

His grumbled “mmm..this is good” as he delighted in the two cakes my Mom would make.

The ice cream droplets on his mustache.

His opened Pepsi can.

His fuzzy hats.

His stout body and his thick glasses.

His belted printed pants.

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Today I think about the seven wonders of my life.

-My Parents

-My Sisters

-My Friends

-My Grandfather

-My Button

-My Husband

-My Sons

You amaze me. Every day. Every Second.

I love you.

Happy HAPPY Birthday to me.