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…

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.”

Today I vacuumed my entire house. May not sound like much to you, but for me it is a feeling similar to that of, I don’t know, reaching the submit of Everest. Ok, so maybe not that great, but at least equivalent to carrying all of your groceries inside the house in one trip, or having all of the laundry washed, folded and put away in the same day. Yeah, it was a big time feeling of elation. I would love to say that I did this because I am a good homemaker. That I did this because I have pride in our home and want it to be clean and welcoming. The real reason behind the vacuuming marathon of all three levels of the house, tile, carpet, stairs, you name it, was the white noise drowning out my children’s arguing. Once I began and realized I could no longer hear their debates and power struggles, the vacuum became my new spirit animal. All these years I have wasted trying to be the voice of reason when I could have hide behind the constant hum of this powerful machine and had a much less stressful and much cleaner house.

Like a sock from the pile, I am at a point where reinventing my purpose is poignant. For years my socks has been right where they needed to be. All tidy in the drawer. All bound together, some plain and some spunky, ready for whatever occasion may present itself. Each purpose a pair I could easily grab and wear without ever giving much thought.. As if my “many hats” were socks, I adorned on autopilot, neither one of us expecting much of the other.

And just like that, it is over, and only beginning at the same time. The campaigning for the White House has ended, but a new campaign is begging for our attention. A mission we must pursue with more passion than any candidates who came before us. We must dig deep and decide that we stand for something greater.

Tomorrow my oldest child will be eleven. I literally can not fathom the fact that I have been a parent for over a decade. It is true what they say about time. How it has the ability to move so fast and so very slow all at once. It has been 4,015 days and I still haven’t figured out what I am doing.

So I try. Everyday when I wake up I think, today is going to be better than yesterday. I am going to be positive. I am going to be joyful. I will be a great wife, role model and friend. I will be the Mom that I am called to be. And then. It happens.

It could be anything. Anything that sends me off course. If you have read my blog before, you know chaos is our normal and so we all adjust. Somedays I just am not that into adjusting.

It’s been an adventure packed couple of weeks for Team Csordas, nothing short of epic in the way of glitter bombs, so I thought it was about time I shared some of these sparkling gems with you.

“I don’t dream. At least if I do, I don’t ever recall the dreams once I wake up.” I said this to a friend who was rattling off one random dream after the next, vivid dreams complete with smells and color and sound. While it is true that I don’t normally dream, I do have two dream memories stored…

“We’re friends.”

Often times I have said it myself, without much hesitation, and I believed it strongly to be true. A name comes up in conversation and the replies often include, “Oh, yeah, I know her. We’re friends,” or “She’s a good friend of mine.” Quick to pledge alliance or association, eager for that connection. To belong. The funny thing about friendships is their life cycle. They are born, evolve and grow, all the while wondering when and if we will mourn their passing, when they just don’t fit anymore.

We had been waiting for over an hour in the reception area. My pregnant belly feeling so heavy topped with the wait of my toddler, straddling the bump. The double stroller at my feet with two cranky little people strapped in, the floor around us littered with cracker crumbs and Gerber puffs. I thought about cleaning it up but couldn’t bend over enough to do so. I was the poster woman for the stereotype of WV, barefoot (flip flops in January was close enough) and pregnant, babies were literally everywhere, inside and out. It was me against this tiny gang and my patience, as well as the snack supply, was dwindling.

Things have been a little more chaotic than usual around here over the last couple of months. Today marks day thirty of my job as”Nanny Nenny.” Let me explain.