A Charitable Christmas

Ever since Atticus got old enough to get excited about presents, I've struggled with how to make Christmas more about giving than receiving. I come up with great ideas in the summer, but once November hits, between end-of-year work escalation and holiday crafting and (often) getting sick, it falls to the wayside.

But this year everything fell into just the right place. The Church's "Light the World" campaign got us thinking about service, and Atticus found little ways to help. He asked to give a dollar to a homeless person and looked forward to putting money in the Salvation Army bucket at the grocery store. My visiting teacher gave us a little manger and straw, where you add straw for every act of service. Atticus wrote notes and left secret gifts for me and James just so he could add some straw.

Plus, our gift requests were inexpensive this year, so we had extra funds in the Christmas savings account. Rather than roll it into next year or to another account (so tempting!), I decided to use it to serve. We made donations to the food bank and the homeless shelter, but I wanted something more tangible as well. So I looked up the list of most-needed items at the shelter and went shopping. Walking out of the store with a cart full of stuff I knew people actually needed, I felt giddier than I had all season. Later we took Atticus to Wal-Mart to pick out toys to donate. He got in the spirit and never once asked for anything for himself. Then we took everything to the shelter. It was fun.

I've decided to make this an annual tradition. When Atticus is older we can help serve meals and interact more with the people we're serving, but for now this is good. And I'd like to do more for our neighbors and friends. And for years I've been wanting to fill shoeboxes for Operation Christmas Child, but you have to drop them off before Thanksgiving, so it's not on my radar soon enough. I made a note in my planner to order the shoeboxes in July, so maybe it will happen this year. And Atticus is old enough now to help without getting greedy (man, does that kid love STUFF).

I'm getting excited about the possibilities. And that's the most fun of all.

Successes

Atticus has figured out cartwheels!

Atticus has been working on his cartwheel for more than a year, with little success. He would try and try and end up in a heap on the floor every time. Then we started him in gymnastics in September, and I honestly didn't see any progress during class. And then the other day he does this. I was so excited for him! He GOT it!! And he was pretty proud of himself, as well.

Then the next day, I rode a bike for the first time since my surgery. I was just going to try out the bike and see how it went, but it felt so good that I had Atticus get his scooter and we went a couple miles up the Jordan River Trail. The weather was beautiful, and it was so nice to be out, just him and me. I was sore for a couple days, both ankle and thighs, but it was worth it. 

I'm walking without a brace now. I still have a bit of a limp, and my left leg is still significantly weaker than my right, but I'm making progress. I have to remind myself that slow progress is still progress. And if I'm not strong enough to hike the trails next spring, that just means more time for biking.

I'm not the mother I thought I'd be.

A recently-divorced friend told me the other day that she is experiencing mom-related insecurity for the first time ever, feeling threatened and resentful of friends who seem to be doing it better than she is. She never had it, or at least not in the same way, before she was divorced.

Part of me was shocked that she hasn't felt it before now--hasn't every mother felt that from her child's infancy? And then I thought back to my own feelings about motherhood. My style of motherhood in particular.

Before children, and even before marriage, I knew I wanted to be a mother, and I knew what kind of mother I wanted to be. I wanted to be a lot like my sister Susan: she is completely devoted to her children. She doesn't work outside the home; she plans and cooks healthy, varied meals; she has chickens and a big garden and makes strawberry jam and even bakes bread sometimes.

We are also very different--where she is more scientific minded and carefully monitors her children's development (in a very good way, mind you), I wanted to be more artistic and free-spirited. I wanted to dig mud pits and build forts and do big messy art projects. I wanted to sew clothes and knit and spin and weave and maybe one day start a goat dairy. I wanted to mother like Amanda Soule from the Soule Mama blog (minus the homeschooling--you have to draw the line somewhere).

I am not that kind of mother.

I work away from home 20-30 hours per week, and I love it. I absolutely love my job (in general--not always day-to-day). As a writer for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I get to use and expand my talents in a very real, satisfying way. I have an opportunity to study and teach principles that can change lives for the better, including my own. I get to work with some very creative and spiritually-minded people, and even though we don't always agree, we do great work together.

I used to love to cook, but now dinner is a chore. We eat out more than we should. I have a hard time keeping up with the clutter. I am immensely blessed to have a husband who does the laundry and the dishes and cleans the bathroom regularly.

I don't go to PTA meetings or volunteer in the community. My home is not a gathering place for neighborhood children (the only kids on our block are too young to cross the street by themselves, so we're off the hook for now...). I only kind of know my neighbors.

This reality used to get me down sometimes. I would see other moms who appear to have it all together, who find fulfillment and joy in at-home parenting, and I'd feel a twinge of guilt. My heart is supposed to be at home, right? That is where I'm supposed to focus all my energies, right?

But then I think of my son, and the relationship we have and the relationship we're building. The questions he asks me and how we talk to each other when it's just the two of us. How he sits close to me on the couch when I'm knitting or stitching. How he leans on me when I read to him. How happy he is when I help in his classroom once a week. How we're working on that delicate balance of boundaries and trust and how my heart swells when it clicks. I think of all the things I want to show him and experience with him and learn from him and teach him.

And I realize, I'm not the mother I thought I'd be, but I'm pretty happy with the mother I am.

Bleah.

So I just experienced my first mammogram. And even though the people were nice and it wasn't painful, afterward I still just wanted to curl up in bed with a bowl of ice cream and cry.

I haven't done any of those things yet, but I am at home in my comfy pants, contemplating the ice cream in the freezer. Maybe I should have lunch first...

Anyway, all I can say is if men had to undergo the same procedure for testicular cancer, they would have come up with a better imaging method by now.

Here's to more women in medical technology!

Good things.

This year hasn't been all bad. Here are a few good things I'd like to remember.

The day someone brought corgi puppies to work.

Atticus got baptized.

And started Cub Scouts.

I made it to Delicate Arch on a gimpy ankle.

Family outing to Antelope Island.

Mama-Atticus hike to a local waterfall. On a gimpy ankle.

Mesa Verde on a gimpy ankle. (I will not be broken!)

Quality time with my boy.

The day we discovered a new mall with a playground and comfortable seats. And a Pokegym.

I knit a yellow sweater and a I quite like it. We are in nice clothes at Dead Horse Point because we were there for a wedding. More about this trip in another post.

So there. 

Thoughts on deep cleaning.

Yesterday was a deep cleaning day, and it felt good. And now I'm restless to attack the rest of the house, but I'm going to pace myself.

By the time I got out of bed, James had cleaned the bathroom, started the laundry, made a shopping list, and raked up a bunch of leaves. I knew I had to pull my weight. So I attacked the kitchen. I moved the appliances on the counter, wiped them down, and cleaned underneath and around them. I cleaned the toaster oven and the top of the microwave. I organized the storage cabinet and moved a bunch of jars and miscellaneous items to the basement. I cleaned off the top of the storage cabinet and arranged the stuff on the refrigerator doors. I wiped down cabinet doors and cleaned the outside of the trash cans. Later I moved the couches and swept up the dust bunnies and found a bunch of interesting stuff.

So often in our cleaning we focus on the big stuff and just move things to the corners or shove them in a closet. (Or maybe I'm just speaking for myself here.) And most of the time that's fine. But I've been feeling cluttered lately, and just moving the piles of stuff or even throwing it away didn't feel like enough. All the junk and dust lurking in the corners was getting me down.

So now when I look at my kitchen there is still a pile of stuff on the table and assorted things on the counters. But the kitchen still feels clean. The living room feels clean.

A long time ago I heard someone say, "If you want a clean house, take care of the corners. Scrub those corners well, and the middle will take care of itself." I'm finding that to be true.

The implications and analogies here are endless. When life feels overwhelming and cluttered, pay attention to the dusty corners and closets where you shove stuff to deal with later. What am I avoiding? What have I hidden and ignored?

It's not all bad stuff. When I was going through some of my craft supplies to get ready to teach a class on making felt Christmas ornaments, I found a paper Christmas garland that I had started a couple years ago but never finished. I think I'll finish that this year. What other treasures might I find that I wasn't ready to complete before but might be ready to tackle now?

Anyway, those are my thoughts for today. I'm ready to start digging out of this painful year and start making progress again.

*Later*
It felt fantastic to be so productive, but by the time we went grocery shopping, my leg and ankle hurt enough that I regretted not bringing the cane. And this morning both legs hurt enough (the right one from taking me up and down the stairs several times yesterday) that I did take the cane to church. It was a helpful reminder that my inactivity hasn't been completely without reason. Trying not to overdo it.

Thoughts on a difficult year.

It's strange to look back and realize how much my ankle has dominated my life this year. And that it really has been all year. It was in January that I tried a new treatment that initially eliminated the pain but quickly devolved into pain comparable to the original injury--I couldn't walk without crutches for a month. Cortizone in March. Surgery in June. Still in a brace. Still a bit freaked out that my upper fibula is just floating free. And I expect to be uncomfortable through the end of the year. 

An entire year. 

The stranger part is to realize the side effects of this trouble, especially in my relationship with my husband. He has been a patient caregiver all this time, and in many ways I've become an entitled receiver. I take for granted that he does most of the housework and cooking now. I haven't been a complete invalid, except for a week or so after the surgery, but I've gotten very comfortable on the couch. Now that I'm more mobile, I'm finding it a little difficult to resume some of these roles. I like being taken care of. But it's time to get moving again. Time to "rise from the dust" so to speak.

Here I go.