Thursday, December 25, 2008

Under the tree

I am the first one up. I think that has been the case since I was three. The boys are both sound asleep in my bed, a common place eventuality over here. Nana is here, arrived safely from Virginia and is as I had suspected she would be, sufficiently dazzled by the dynamic duo I am raising well. I rarely give myself the chance to acknowledge this fact, this feat. My friends ask me all the time "How do you do it?" or even better, "You are doing an incredible job with them, they are terrific kids, and full of joy and life, and..." They tell me, because they know that I do it because they help me in so many ways. And yet, I also do DO IT alone in other ways at the end of each day. So as a Christmas present to myself, on the day where another mother is often celebrated peripherally (she had that manger looking tidy and welcoming before those kings arrived even id she had just given birth I bet you), I want to put it out there, that though I am not always as patient as I would like to be; "Sam PUT HIM DOWN NOW!" and though I should spend less time cleaning the house, and more time messing it up with them-I'm a fine mom. Look at that tree--oh not that one--why it scans in all blue is beyond me--the one in the other room. It is ripe with expectation and possibility. My economy (to borrow a line I read on another post somewhere) is thriving with possibility. I manage the money I have well, and my time just well enough. I am for today anyway, navigating the waters of situational poverty with grace and style. My children have their needs met--emotionally, physically, intellectually, and presents under-the-tree-ally.

Marcel is scrunching and twisting--his signature pre-waking bell. Sam will this morning, uncharacteristically wake easily when reminded what day it is... Nana is up well rested and ready to participate in the frenzy. Time to boil the water for the instant coffee, and text the big brother to get himself here as soon as he is able. He's bringing the stuffed bird, and the cranberry sauce. Mom and I made the pies. (We're having the Thanksgiving meal we missed while he was at sea--promises to surpass the turkey burgers and supermarket pie I pulled off instead.) Our blessings to all. Merry Christmas.