Falling hard.

I never wanted to be THAT Mom. The one who was sitting in the stands, auditorium or in this case, on the chairs right outside of the gym mats, feeling all the feels. I imagined feeling maybe two emotions, pride and joy, while my child was out there doing their thing. Turns out it is a lot more complicated than that. I never wanted to be the Mom who wanted it more for my kiddos then they did for themselves. Never wanted to feel anger at judges or referees because I have always believed I would be the Mom who knew it was all only a game, a meet, a recital and in the scheme of life it would be over and done with and we could go home and carry on, business as usual.

Merry Christmas, Mom Style.

So here we are, December. My kids are sitting at the kitchen breakfast bar discussing their Santa lists. We don’t go crazy here for Christmas, at least not in the way of presents. We have a motto, taken from a friend years ago, and it goes like this. Baby Jesus got three gifts and you ain’t no better than Jesus, (the slang makes it) and so the kids have always gotten three gifts and their stockings on Christmas morning. No more, no less. They know not to ask for more than three things. This makes the Santa list project extremely difficult because they have to be sure, extra decisive, in choosing what makes the cut for said list.

Now, since I haven’t had a Christmas list since becoming a mom, over 11 years ago, I started thinking about what those three items would have been during the course of mothering. So I decided to cash in on my 33 items this year, with a little compilation of my own.

Ready, Set, Go…

Hello, December.

Last night I had thought about this and frantically torn open boxes, marked books, that have yet to be unpacked, until I finally came upon it. I set it out next to the coffee pot, hoping the combination would bring new energy come morning. The opening passage was enough to soften my heart regarding the month looming before us. “Big and glossy and loud and fast — that’s how this bent-up world turns, But God, when He comes–He shows up in this fetal ball… And the heart that makes time and space for Him to come will be a glorious place. A place of sheer, radiant defiance in the face of a world careening mad and stressed.”