six word Fridays: Reason

It stands to reason this season
there’s a little more to it
than presents, vacation time, and decorations.
Yes, fancy luminations brighten the night
and those odd shaped surprises intrigue
(bet you wonder what’s wrapped there)
But I remember a time when
Christmas included church prayers at midnight – –
When we sat in our jammies
In the soft lit sanctuary together,
an elder thanking God for all
requested, received, and even what’s denied.
I wondered then, ‘Why praise Him ?
You didn’t get what you wanted
And so-and-so got more.’
Now, I see what he had.
What was needed, what was good:
Parents, children together in God’s house,
The family, in whatever form, complete.
I miss those evenings long passed.

** inspired by “reason” for Six Word Fridays at My Memory Art

This is six

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Favorite color blue
Favorite food fish sticks
Favorite book Lightening McQueen
Favorite TV show Spongebob
Favorite team Falcons
Favorite activity chess… uh, Hot Wheels… no, reading… ok, drawing pictures.
Wears size 1 shoe, size 6 clothes
Current School Grade
One
Favorite subject math
Future career goal dump truck driver
Quote “Mom, I’m hungry.”
Favorite Song Everything is Awesome
Favorite Movie Robots
Clothing style mismatched socks
Favorite sport to play football
Favorite sport to watch football
Favorite toy Lego

Fifteen plus 6

Favorite color green
Favorite food everything except for Mac & Cheese
Favorite book Trip to Heissman Trophy
Favorite TV show Modern Family
Favorite team Team Rico
Favorite activity other than football? to mess with Ri
Current School Grade ten
Favorite subject technical drawing
Future career goal ball out (play football)
Quote “Chill.”
Favorite Song Rico’s Story
Favorite Movie Gridiron Gang
Clothing style jackets
Favorite sport to play football
Favorite sport to watch football
Favorite past time sleep
One wish: make everyone’s life peaceful

I miss it

Last weekend I lamented seeing my sister in law. It wasn’t really about her. I just knew she’d be in that glow that pregnancy brings. Rosy cheeked, plump-faced, and happily expecting the wonderful firsts a new baby offers. Her curvacious fullness prompting attention and well-wishes for the blessing of this little boy – my nephew.

Pangs of emptiness in my core were certain.

Just a few months ago, hubs and I lay in bed. He caressed my stomach as though he could feel the swell of life – as though he were ready. We chatted about “fin” – the pet named (and yet to be) last child of our brood. I’d been feeling odd for days, similar to the way I’d felt just before we discovered Cinco’s impending arrival. We talked of potential names, rattling off those we loved, scrunching faces at those we’d never really consider, thinking of meanings we’d like to envoke. We contemplated baby’s looks – hair in soft light-colored curls, alluring eyes, skin of birchwood. We laughed about how each sibling would react to the new edition. We skirted around the obvious issues of financial strain created while giving the best we can to each child.

Days following, I picked up a test, followed the instructions and waited in my cramped toilet closet. I had closed myself in, locking the door to avoid the usual visitor. As she patted on the door – first timidly and then with more vigor, the first blue line emerged quickly. She called out “Mooommmmmmy? Mah? MOM!!!” as I silently waited behind the door. But that extra line never appeared. Fin was still merely a dream.

I miss being pregnant. I miss those first flutters of baby’s movement. I miss that initial moment of my husbands joy at first feeling a kick of his unborn child as he rests his hand against my stomach. I miss the days of counting down, of wondering if baby will look like the visions conjured in my dreams. I miss planning for the hospital, the visitors, the homecoming.

My baby isn’t really a baby anymore. Next week, she’ll be two. She’s already a personality. She’s already got her own ideas, has conversations, creates. She’s growing more independent with each passing day.

And soon, like her siblings before her, she’ll be lost in her own activities, interests and a world I don’t quite fit into.

**This is inspired by the Just Write meme – an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments.

NaNoWriMo (No.)

Failed.
Miserable would best describe the effort to write a vignette a day. I think I accomplished, perhaps, ten of the thirty. A new personal low?  Probably.

In my head,  however,  swim countless little scenes waiting to be written. Sometimes I wish there were more time. Someday – soon I hope – I’ll officially pen them.

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Ya and I collaborated on this little owl. He’s a continuation of my artistic efforts of the day. I miss painting.

Earlier,  Chi and I were gifted an awesome opportunity today. We had two hours together to paint ballet slippers. “No experience required.” “No mistakes, it’s art.” Those were the two consistently chimed mantras of Cheers Art Studio. And indeed, looking at the diversity of talent in the participants of our class, this held true.

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Though I think we both found ourselves frustrated with our painting,  the results are nothing to be sad about.

Not-so-annual family photos

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It’s an obligation if you’re in my family: you must take an annual photo. Call it preserving the changes in life, if you must. This year, though, we just could not coordinate fresh hair cuts, 100 percent attendance, and outfits before the temperature dropped.

Our remote seems to have reached its end, so we had to resort to the timer. Once the button is pushed, the runner (aka MOM) must get to the designated empty spot in the family formation before the time’s up. Otherwise, the missing member is seen in a 9-part photo series as a blur moving behind the others who are likely watching her harried efforts instead of looking at the camera.

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Ri was particularly funny about the camera. She watched the blinking light speed up as the time ended and said “uh oh.” The result? Every photo has her in some mid-utterance with her hands raised in concern. One burst has the eldest with his tongue sticking out. Ironically, every one else is perfectly posed and picture-ready. Well, that’s not exactly true. Out of shape runner that I am, I look like a frazzled mess with half my hair blowing in the wind, my face flushed, and a pose not quite right somewhere in the middle of the bunch. And seeing that I’m the same height standing as my son and husband kneeling, there’s an oddity about the pictures.
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It probably didn’t help that it was cold. And the sun? Well, she played peekaboo behind the clouds and created squinting eyes and odd-shaped shadows whenever she appeared.
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As I’ve known for some time, hubs has a picture time clock. If needed pictures aren’t captured in, say, 20 minutes, he declares the effort a wash and goes on to other activities. He does it with Ri when she refuses to give me the perfect shot during a booking session, and he did it with our family photos. I suppose the others would quit, too – – if I’d let them do so without repercussion.
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Alas, we ultimately got the shot, though it’s hardly the one I dreamed about. Here we are, the Smiths.

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