Apologies for making you envision my clear cylinder.

Crazy. (Five reasons I'm thrilled that the holiday season is coming to a close.)

1. I'm so, so sick of jingling bells. What gave me goosebumps in November, is now a migraine trigger. This encompasses every Christmas song ever sung. They all feature bells. During the lead up. In the chorus. As it wraps and fades. Goodbye, holiday radio! I would physically kick you out of my life if you weren't invisible.

2. Art projects. When the season hits full swing, the kids develop an insatiable urge to decorate, create and make stuff. Lots of stuff. All kinds. Of course, these holiday projects require my participation and/or supervision. My achy knuckles can only cut so many paper snowflakes.

3. Holiday food. I once watched a British tv show where they took everything an overweight person ate and dumped meal after meal into a giant clear cylinder. Then mixed it up - churn, churn, yuck - to make a graphic point. I tell you, my clear cylinder would be so nasty and full, I bet it would bubble and belch.

4. I'm a tired mom. I am fighting the urge to nap right now. Heavy lids. Heavy and getting heavier.

5. People. From crowded malls, to parties, to school functions and bizarre family members, I'm over the sheer volume of you and the weirdness (some of) you peddle. Because you have overwhelmed me, I'm going to request some space. Let's start with infinity miles through the end of winter.

Cool. (Five things I'll miss.)

1. Bea singing jingle bells, though she hasn't let up and it's three days post-Christmas. (Her vocal pizzicato is pure perfection!) Explaining the calendar to a two year old is wasted energy.

2. Lu and Edy's homemade gifts on Christmas morning. Even though they relied on me heavily to craft their cuteness, I realize that once they are old enough to purchase supplies, work my fickle printer, safely cut with adult scissors and not glue their fingers together, they will no longer feel motivated to declare their affections so sweetly. I'll get a text. If I'm lucky.

3. I do love food and will miss the "go ahead, it's the holidays," mentality I so fully embrace. Perhaps I am slightly proud of my clear cylinder??

4. Tired kids. There is nothing better than kids who hit the pillow hard. Head down and they're out. Exhausted, happy kids who are safely tucked into their soft, warm beds. It's a beautiful thing!

5. I'm sick of people, but not my people. My family of five. Come January 2nd, I will miss having the girls home from school and Jon in his lounge-about clothes, lounging about. I like us huddled inside while the winds whip and slushy snow falls. Cozy bliss.

Happy post-holidays to you!

Ridiculously mature.

Crazy.
I wasn't going to write about twenty elementary school children being gunned down. My puny thoughts can not begin to make sense of the terror or console those who are broken. But what else is there to compare? It's not just crazy, it's horrifying, a nightmare come true.

Here's my opinion on the bigger debate, for what it's worth.

I am a "live and let live" kind of gal. I truly believe it takes all kinds. When it comes to lifestyles that differ from my own, I am open-minded.

That said, the unreasonably paranoid gun enthusiast has me baffled. I respect your right to own weapons, but why can't you agree that the deadliest of rifles should be banned? Destroyed. No longer manufactured. As a nation, we can make this happen. Are you hunting herds of deer? Do you need to shoot an entire case of empty beer cans? Quickly? Without reloading? I'm sorry, but my children's safety trumps your hobby.

The NRA spoke out today and said what we really need are armed guards at every school. That's like handing out flame retardant suits in a raging inferno rather than working to put out the fire. Keep playing, kids! You'll get used to the heat! Oh, and who's paying for these suits, I mean guards? Schools are woefully underfunded as is.

What about the movie theater? The mall?

I'm also confused by moms getting all second amendment crazy because they identify as conservative and that's how the conservative playbook reads. Step back and think for yourself. Think about the fear those children felt. (Yes, they would have been afraid of a man with a machete, but they would have also stood a chance.)

The fear. That's what sticks with me. The children are at peace - now - but I'm certain the parents will never stop imagining the fear. Imagining the scene.

God bless them.

There's so much more to say, but I don't have the time or talent to word it well. There's a holiday sing at our elementary school in less than an hour and I will be there... because my children are my everything... not just a hobby/sport/recreational activity/reason to play in the woods.

Cool.
For many years, Lu declared that she was not at all interested in piercings. Or tattoos. Mohawks were also on her "never" list. She wanted us to know.

Then she got a little older. Then she changed her mind. Not about the mohawk, thankfully. She wanted her ears pierced and I had no problem with it, but I suggested she wait until soccer season ended. After soccer season, she seemed to forget. So did I.

On Monday night, I decided to drag the girls to the mall. Jon was (shockingly) out-of-town. I knew Bea would be a disaster, but I wanted a picture with Santa and we missed every other lap-sitting opportunity in town.

So Lu asked, "Can I get my ears pierced?" Feeling guilty about making an almost 11 year-old engage a mall Santa ("Have you been good, young lady?"), I said fine. She was stunned. And nervous. But resolved.

After Santa, we went straight to Piercing Pagoda. While waiting for the teenage manager to call Lu back, I stroked her perfectly formed earlobes. So soft. I made them. There was a sudden sense of ownership and a rush of regret, but it was too late. Deep breath.

Five days post-piercing and her ears look beautiful. They aren't red or sore or infected. So far. Most importantly, Lu is thrilled. Some changes are good not just for the surface reality, but for the way they make us feel. In Lu's case, it's "sassy" with a touch of "aren't I ridiculously mature?"

Yes you are. Getting there at least. 

Timber.

Cool.
For many, many, many years, I did not enjoy trimming our Christmas tree. I like order. I like balance. I like visual aesthetics. Maybe more than the average guy. Haphazard kids hanging ornaments haphazardly was no fun at all. For me.

I have been known to rearrange a shelf because too many books of the same color are too close in proximity. My eyes don't like it. Why suffer?

I have four versions of our Christmas card on my laptop. I have tweaked it to death.

In college, I pledged a sorority. During the entire semester, we were encouraged(!) to do favors for sisters in exchange for signatures. The goal was to get as many signatures as possible. I was born for this!  I cared for an iguana, I got a signature. I told a joke, I got a signature. I returned a sweatshirt to an ex-boyfriend, I got a signature. I had pages and pages of signatures. But I didn't like the way they looked. The different pens! Some light, some dark! Too random! My eyes!

So I went from page to page and simply traced each one with the same felt tip marker. (Oh, how I love a felt tip!) On the final night of pledging, I got in serious trouble. The good girl had gone bad. Apparently, it looked as though I forged them. Gutsy! (Um, is your iguana alive? Yes? Because I fed it!) I tried to explain, but how do you explain neurosis? At that moment, it seemed so ludicrous. (At my desk, with felt tip in hand, it seemed like a super plan!) I took my punishment which may or may not have been eating five fat bouillon cubes.

Twenty years later, I still use that incident to gauge whether it's worth fixing/changing/altering something when the result may please me, but may confuse/upset/alienate others.

The tree is an ideal example. For the last many Christmases, the kids would merrily decorate then walk off. I would quickly fix/reposition/totally change everything top to bottom until it was perfect. Someone had to intercede. Edy hung 14 ornaments on the same branch!

This year, they are older. (And a little uptight like me.) When every ornament was out of the box and on the tree, I stepped back and was pleased. Sure, there were a few I could have moved around, if I stared and obsessed. But I didn't. Stare or obsess. The tree was good and it was theirs.

Even Bea helped out by not putting hooks in her mouth and by not sucking the glitter off anything sparkly. Progress!

Crazy.
I was still basking in my chill mom status when I heard a loud crash. The tree fell.

I rushed downstairs and realized right away that there were some serious casualties. Anything fragile near the impact zone was smashed.

For our wedding present, Gail gave me a box of German glass ornaments, each with special meaning. She also gave us a beautiful Victorian angel -- ironically enough. For the last fifteen years, I have faithfully hung those delicate ornaments and proudly wedged that angel on the tippy top of every tree we have ever owned. For the last 6 years, it's been bitter sweet.

Now two of her ornaments were in teeny tiny pieces and I was faced with a decision. I could completely lose it or I could accept that the ornaments had a good run and nothing lasts forever. As I was mentally debating my reaction, I saw a breast cancer ornament among the mess and it buoyed me back. It's not a big deal. Cancer is a big deal. The love I feel when I remember Gail, that's a big deal.

It says "Faith Hope Love," not
"Weep for hours because your ornaments smashed."

I did most of the rehanging myself. The kids had moved on. So, a perfect tree again this year! I can't help myself.

No, I am not on cold medication. It was a stomach bug.

Or bad Thai food. Nonetheless, prepare for some serious "stream of conscious" ramblings.

This week, I'm combining Cool and Crazy because I'm efficient like that and because I'm still recovering. It took me down. It took me down hard.

Plus I chose a very random topic and couldn't decide if it was cool or crazy, then concluded that it is both. It can happen. It did happen.

Have you ever had an itch and when you itch it, you feel it somewhere else on your body. How crazy is that? And cool! It reminds me that we are a blob of cells interacting in ways we can't always control. Which is good because I mess things up a lot. If I was responsible for remembering to release bile from my pancreas, I would totally put it off and then die.

For me at least, never have the weird workings of my body been more weird (crazy and cool!) as they were when I was pregnant. Every day, I went about my routine – eating, driving, watching BRAVO tv – while simultaneously building a human life with, as it so happens, a soul. Just like that.

Of course talk of sour bellies and pregnancy makes me think of Duchess Kate. It's crazy that she was hospitalized, but it's cool that she's pregnant. Yeah for a baby royal who is also half commoner! Poor Kate needs to beef up a little and maybe she won't be so sick. I saw a report that claims she is 5' 10" and 95 lbs. What? I did some quick math in my head (5 lbs. per inch of height) and realized I would need to weigh about 70 lbs. to be her size. Um. No thanks.

Ironically, on the day they officially announced her pregnancy, they also passed a new law that makes the first born child successor to the throne, male or female. Go girls! I guess before, if a son was born after a daughter, he would simply bump her out. Bah-bye. Bump!

This gets a little complicated, though, since her severe sickness has sparked twin rumors. Most twins are born by c-section. How do they choose who to yank out first? Jon made some comment about royals murdering their siblings throughout history in a play for power. But during Medieval times, it was a lot easier to commit murder, throw your brother in a well, and then claim the throne as your own. Blame the court jester or whomever, kill anyone who protests. Move on as king until someone poisons you. Today, that wouldn't fly.

Because -- it's a better world today! (For most of us in the West, at least.) I love to argue with people who "long for the past." I guarantee, Kate's baby or babies will be very well dressed and won't be tossed in any wells.

Here's a picture of Lu and Edy at the Tower of London. Beheadings are fun! That's all. Back to bed.