mama monday: hibernation

Anyone else kicked in the crotchola by the Christmas holidays this year?  After/while surviving a two-week bout of laryngitis I hauled myself to seven holiday parties (down from nine; see: laryngitis), four family parties, a wedding in the States, and lead a three-day young adult conference whilst keeping house guests from England. 

I CAN DO ALL THE THINGS!

This type of lifestyle flies in the face of my end-of-summer mantra: dolce far niente.  Here it is, 2011, and I'm admitting that my last goal met its defeat in just under three months.  Instead of dolce far niente-ing I've been keeping a schedule that looks like this:

And feels something like this:



This four-minute TED talk from Arriana Huffington reminded me again to refocus: we need rest, not simply as a luxury but as a prescription, to accomplish our goals.  She quotes:

"The way to a more productive, more inspired, more joyful life is getting enough sleep.  And we women are going to lead the way in this new revolution, this new feminist issue.  We are literally going to sleep our way to the top."

Two friends of mine simplified my goal for me and I've been pulling their words around me like a woolen throw when I feel a draft of despondency in the baby making journey.

Melissa blogged:

"I now know the sweet enjoyment of the small things, the things we miss while going about life a hundred miles per minute.  I watch Noah as he takes in life around him, sucking it in through his wide eyes, trying to stay awake so he can soak in more.  He inspires me.  I don’t just go to the store now, I take a walk, I hear the leaves crinkle and the wind blow, I feel and taste the crisp air, I take pleasure in going to the store.  I don’t just sleep, I rest. I go to coffee with a friend, I really listen.  I enjoy and appreciate my husband on a whole new level, he is now a father. I don’t just eat I savour.  I buy my favourite dark chocolate, I deserve it.  I listen to Christmas music, even if it's too early.  I kiss my little boys cheeks and hands and feet till their red."

And Nicole emailed:

"Your kid is going to effect this world in a major way - BabyGaz can't be born at just any time, it's got to be the RIGHT time. Take heart, friend. You're doing great. You just keep on being immersed in love and let the magic happen. It'll all happen at the right time."

I'm looking forward to 2011 because, for the first time in long time, my schedule looks like this:

And, this year, I hope to keep it that way.

foto friday: fa la la la la la la la la

Some yueltide photos to tide you over while I leave work early to finish my Christmas shopping...yes, the Christmas shopping I vowed to have completed by November 30th.

Less urination in the elevator, please.

If I could magically suck anyone's creative brain out of them and use it for my own, it would be Melissa's.  The following are some decorations she's implemented in their adorable, 2-bedroom apartment. 

 

The photo doesn't show it very well, but that's the fireplace station on cable TV.  With crackling sound effects.

 Our work Christmas party.  I've been pretty good at keeping the agency I work for vague (so as not to be dooced), and the tradition continues...

Our "Betty Draper" drank too much and had to nurse his mean hangover the next day.

foto friday: the bay

It's shocking that department stores stay in business since most furniture, appliances, clothing and electronics can now be found at other, more specialized, megastores for much less.  Still, department stores continue to be one of the last habitats that one can find elderly women grazing peacefully on weekday afternoons.

My great, great aunt Dodie, who passed away when I was 18, took me to department stores when I stayed with her.  Since she also took me to the ROM, Queen's Park, and Centre Island, I naturally assumed The Department Store belonged on a shortlist of Toronto's attractions. We'd wander down the cosmetic aisles, explore the toy department,  and visit the artificial trees displays at Christmas.  Once, only once, when I found a $20 bill on the sidewalk by sheer luck (also due to generally looking down when I walked to avoid stepping on cracks) I was granted permission to spend it.  All of it.  Thus began a long, rewarding relationship with shopping.

I set about spending this small fortune on practical items, and bought a white pair of gloves.  I'm pretty sure Dodie encouraged me to buy a pack of underwear while we were at it which can only lead me to believe that I forgot to pack more than one pair on that particular visit.  After these investments I wildly spent the rest on a chickadee ornament (made from real feathers!), a plastic toy from Wendy's, and chocolate.  There was none left.  Thus began a long, debilitating habit of guilt/reward-based shopping.

When recounting the story later to my mother, I made a point of mentioning the gloves first. 

Something old-world and glamourous still captivates me when I walk through a department store.  Maybe it's in the wide, white aisles, the complimentary lighting, the posters of famous actresses-turned-models shot with even more complimentary lighting, the offers to try the elegant new fragrance from this designer, the life-sized Barbies styled in the daring new line from that designer, or the Pavlovian effect from first tasting buyer's delight/regret.

More likely, it reminds me of Christmas and of walking hand in hand with Dodie.  When I see elderly ladies grazing peacefully on weekday afternoons, I think of her.

wifersize wednesday: good times and bad

By now most of you will have already seen this year's Gazaneo Christmas card: a second installment in an annual tradition which we intend on keeping for the rest of our wedded lives. The kids don't know it yet, but they're already signed up to participate for as many years as we can use, coax, bribe, or force them. If we can get two 8-month old pets to pose perfectly, I'm sure kids will be a cinch. They will, right?

Since Andrew and I are speeding headlong into the holiday season with all the poise and balance of a kid running down a steep hill, gaining momentum, and realizing that the legs to torso velocity ratio is widening at a exhilarating yet worrisome rate...

...since we have already attended four Christmas events (three of which were church-related), have hosted two of our own, have a few more yet to go, are involved with the wedding of our good friends Jon & Melissa this weekend, have Christmas shopping still to do, and are preparing for an annual young adult conference at the end of the month...

...since our time, energy, patience, finances, and creativity are being stretched in new and (retrospectively) humourous ways...

...yes, since all of these things, and many more, have been a bit of a balancing act recently it's with great admiration and fondness that I reflect on the simple words exchanged last night after I may or may not have burst into a mild flood of tears because of the strain.

Andrew: [hugging me] "Don't worry, La. It won't do any good."
Me: [moping] "I'm already worried."
Andrew: "Well, then...I love you."

Wouldn't it be nice if everything was raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens? Or would it? On Sunday, I preached that the word advent came from the same Latin root as adventure. I guess there's a reason. Until I know the reason, it's nice to have someone nearby to tell me that I'm loved. Even if I'm willfully worrying, knowing full well that it won't do any good.

He's one of my favourite things.

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
"My Favourite Things", The Sound of Music