Late last week, KT sent me a text asking if she could have a Christmas party on Monday. I thought about it for a moment then responded “Sure.  What did you have in mind?” I didn’t think much of it when I didn’t hear back from her.  I was busy and I knew we would have time to talk that evening.  When I arrived home a couple hours later, KT gleefully told me that she had invited twenty five of her closest friends and sixteen had already committed to coming.  Rather amused at KT’s neglect of discussing the party plans with me, I asked for more details.  She informed me that they were all coming at 2:00, decorating cookies, playing games, watching Christmas movies and just hang out.  Realizing that she had everything planned out, I just told her to let me know if she needed anything for me and watched her go. 

Over the next few days I watched my girl (dragging her baby sister along for company) shop for tablecloths, extra white elephant gifts, cookie toppings and snacks.  She looked up punch recipes and borrowed a punch bowl to put it in, she looked up gift-exchange games and bought prizes, she cleaned the house.  The only thing she asked from me was to make cookie dough (which a couple of her friends would come early and help her bake)  and frosting…oh and to lend her my debit card.

I’m currently hiding out in my room listening to the joyful laughter of approximately a zillion teens simply enjoying each others company.  I’ve been coming out every once in a while…just to say hello…. to make a pizza run…to judge a cookie contest…for the most part I’ve just been giving them their space.  I know most of these kids.  Some since kindergarten, some just for a year or two.  It struck me tonight, that they’ve all grown up.  They aren’t kids anymore…heck, they don’t even look like kids anymore.  

I have to admit that I cringed when KT turned 18 just over a week ago.  She’s now legally an adult.  I always thought that this would make me sad.  This realization that our girls would grow up, become independent and leave us to make their own way in the world.  Amazingly…it doesn’t.  To my utter amazement, what I feel is not grief…but pride.  I am so very proud of how well our children have turned out.   After all, isn’t it the goal of every parent to raise a  confident, independent child?

To think…all it took was a simple little party to make me realize this.  

He’s our new baby! 

This summer, when we had taken my nephews to some sort of kid’s play space, a woman came up to me and started to tell me all her woes that resulted in some career decisions her husband had made.  My sister-in-law, Patti,  heard the tail end of it and seemed astounded at what this woman was telling me.  After the woman went on her way, Patti wanted to know if I knew that lady.  I responded that I had never seen her before in my life. 

As far back as I can remember, people have just told me things.  Strangers, friends, mere acquaintances…so many of them find their way to me and unburden themselves.  I don’t know what it is about me, maybe I seem safe or comforting, but I hear a lot of things that most people are clueless about.   So many things are shared with me…yet…I don’t share with others.  I have no  problems at all about sharing all the silly, unimportant things that happen in my life…it’s the real things that make me tight-lipped.  If something is bothering me, I have a tendency to hunker down.  I just want to be left alone to lick my wounds and wait until the skies are sunny again.  I realize that’s not the healthiest way to handle things…that’s how I seem to do it though. 

I’ve been trying to blog. I remembered during NaBloPoMo how much I truly love to blog.  Goodness knows there is so much that has been happening in this busy month of December.  I have a whole list of things that I want to record.  We’ve had birthdays, setting up the tree, dumpster diving…all sorts of silliness.  Yet, try as I will, the words simply won’t come.  I think that I need to record the sadness that is in my heart right now.  If not for you, Dear Reader, then for myself.  Then maybe I can start to let it go.

A week ago today, my cat died.  Some would say that wasn’t such a big deal.  After all, Taigoo was eighteen and a half years old…she’d already lived way longer than anyone ever thought she would…it was her time.  I would’ve been fine with this…except for the fact that about a week before that, our beloved dog Shelly, had died.   We had no idea she was so ill and her unexpected death was really hard on all of us. 

The deaths of our two family pets seemed to jar something in me…feelings that I thought I had suppressed deep inside of me.  The bone-deep knowledge that life is fleeting.  I keep thinking back to earlier this year when my strong and robust father laid small and frail in a hospital bed for nearly two weeks.  He was fighting a  horrible infection and complications from what should have been a simple surgery.  I keep thinking back to calling 911 then watching Shaun being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance.  Against the doctor’s wishes, I watched his body jumping on the table as his heart was restarted. 

These are things that I haven’t really shared because I thought they were my cross to bear.  I’ve just kept it buried deep inside like I always do.  I had no idea, until my sweet Taigoo Cat died how much it was really eating me up inside.   Please forgive me for Being Real…it’s something I’m going to try to do if I ever need to do so again.   I’m not, by any means looking for sympathy.  I’m just hoping that writing this will be cathartic  for me.  I don’t want to go looking for some woman with kind-looking eyes to spill my sorrows to. 

Hopefully I can finally wipe away my tears and get back to being my usual goofy self.  Just know…if I get quiet again…there’s something going on, and I’m not being real…feel free to call me on it…

Edit to Add:

Thank you…all of you…so very much for your kind words of support and encouragement both here and privately.  It really means so much to me.   Interestingly, I find that my heart truly is lighter.  I don’t know it that is from the support you all have shown to me, or from the simple act of writing it down and letting go.  Either way…thank you once again. ~S

KT just walked by Mimi’s room and was asked to reach in and turn Mimi’s light off for her.  In true sisterly fashion, KT told her sister to turn it off herself.  “But it’s my biiirrthhhday” Mimi wailed. 

“Only for another half an hour” KT snapped back. “You better be really nice to me on my birthday”

Title apologies to Donny Osmond…I just couldn’t help it! (Did anyone else hope he’s showcase purple socks on dwts?)

It all started back in October…no, I take that back…I think it really started way back in June or July.  That’s when I was asked if I would be willing to change the format of my parent/child cooking classes to reflect the season.  Of course I  agreed, I’m pretty much open to anything.  (That’s how I fell into this whole thing in the first place…who would’ve thunk…ME…teaching cooking!)

All summer long, I fretted about these classes.  I scanned recipes online, in magazines and in every cookbook I could get my hands on.  My selections had to perfectly fill the time slot, be easy enough for a small child, yet interesting enough to please the adult.  No small task for someone like me.  Thankfully,September’s apple class was a huge success.  In fact it was so successful that an extra day of classes needed to be added for the following months.

October was pumpkins. Not being a huge pumpkin fan, I had no idea there were so many things you could do with it.  Pumpkin cream cheese dip, pumpkin pie, bread, cookies, ravioli…so many wonderful things.  Unfortunately, for me…they all  seemed to have the same icky taste.  The pumpkin cooking creations wasn’t my downfall…nope…it was the Pumpkin  Patch.  (Sadly, I never took pictures).  I realized that more than anything, I loved the wonky pumpkins. 

  The perfect pumpkins you could find outside every grocery store never did a thing for me.  These pumpkins…these natural, warty,  funky colored, non-genetically engineered, Charlie Brown Pumpkins…they wormed themselves right into my heart. 

I had set aside a part of one class for the kids to go out and choose a pumpkin or two from the Pumpkin Patch.  Other children from the community were also invited to join in on the fun.  Unfortunately, it was pouring rain that day, and the turn out was good, but not great.  (You know it’s raining hard when seasoned Seattle-ites stay inside)  I was so sad for all orphaned pumpkins that weren’t going to find a home.  So…I started to adopt them.

I realized that I might have a problem when KT looked at me in exasperation one day and asked me if I knew that I had seventeen pumpkins.  (Who goes around counting pumpkins???)  I just rolled my eyes at her and decided not to tell her about the four more that were still in the Jeep. 

I thought I was very gracious when I sacrificed some of my beloved pumpkins and allowed them to be carved into Jack O’ Lanterns.  (Do you see the elephant that Shaun and KT created? I know it’s obvious, but it the small one in the middle) My family was ready for the pumpkins to find a new home after Halloween, but I claimed we needed to wait until after Thanksgiving.  Lucky for me (and my pumpkins)  that wasn’t until the end of November. 

Yesterday was the second of December…and it was also yard waste day.  I reluctantly loaded up my poor orphan pumpkins in to the bin and hauled it up to the street.  (I really shouldn’t have been too surprised to find that they were starting to rot and mold on the bottom)  My poor porch looks so empty and forlorn now.  I’m not quite sure what to do for it. 

Hmmm…it’s December…the only time of year you can get away with a wonderfully gaudy display of lights and tacky displays.  

I’ve got my work cut out for me…

I don’t promise to continue posting every day, but I will continue to post regularly. 

(Sorry Dad, it’s the third post with just a picture…mostly)

Shaun came home just in time to watch me finish putting away my pile of groceries.  He got a very mournful look on his face and and said, "I guess you already went to Costco."  I just laughed at him and asked him what he had wanted and he replied with a shrug that all he needed a case of Spam.  (Um?) Then he wanted to know who we knew that would let us borrow a chicken for a day. (Ummmm????)  Oh, and he needed a bale of hay.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any time (or if you happen to know Shaun personally) you already know that he is a very um…unique…man. Yet, somehow, needing  these items seemed a bit over the top, even for him.  (Although oddly, if I ever needed a chicken, I don’t think anyone would blink twice.  Funny how that is)

Apparently one of Shaun’s co-workers is currently in Hawaii on his honeymoon.  Keeping with his company’s long-standing Geek Tradition, Shaun’s team is planning a welcome home surprise for the newlywed.

They are going to turn his office into a tropical paradise, complete with straw on the floor, (although…I thought he had mentioned sand…doesn’t Hawaii have more sand than straw?), a palm tree if they can find one,  lots of Spam cans (used in some very creative ways) and of course, a live chicken running around. 

The last victim Welcome Home recipient  came back from vacation to find that his office had turned to silver.  Everything in there had been covered in aluminum foil.   The computers, every single cord, pencils, the mouse, the white board, pictures…everything had been painstakingly wrapped in foil.  (Is it any wonder that Shaun has so much accrued vacation time?)

You’ll simply have to come up with your own ending to this tale.  (I can’t wait to see what you come up with!)  I found it in my drafts (I found a whole mess of things in my drafts…why, oh why didn’t I discover them earlier in the month?)  The date saved is marked as 6/17/2008  at 3:23 AM.  As I recall, Shaun had asked me not to post it right away just in the off-chance his co-worker saw it. Apparently, several of his work buddies lurk…( Hi MS-ers!!) I’ll have to grill Shaun about what really happened…although…the man has a memory like a sieve sometimes…

Last week, KT excitedly started talking about shopping on Black Friday.  I merely groaned and hoped that she would forget about it.  My hopes were dashed to the ground when I realized that she had talked both her grandmother and her sister into going out before the crack of dawn to fight the crowds for some great “deals”.  I had no choice but to go. 

For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she wanted to go so badly.  The last time we had gone shopping the day after Thanksgiving, we ended up frustrated with the crowds and the lack of any real deals.I knew from past experience that Mimi would insist on going and then refuse to climb out of bed when it became a reality and grandma…well…she’s  just up for going shopping anytime. I knew that this Black Friday shopping excursion was all  KT’s doing…I had to get to the bottom of it!   So, I finally asked KT exactly where and more importantly, why she wanted to go.

That’s when she told me that the only place she really wanted to go was Half Price Books.  They were selling everything for 20% off and were giving out free tote bags to the first 100 shoppers and each bag had a $5 gift certificate in it.  One lucky shopper would find a $100 gift certificate!When Shaun heard where KT wanted to go, he asked if he could go too.  I, of course, readily agreed and asked if I could just stay home and sleep in a bit.  (After all, I had worked for hours and hours and hours and ho…ok, maybe I’m getting a little carried away  here…on Thanksgiving Dinner and needed the sleep)\

I half woke up in the wee hours of the morning as my two favorite nerds got ready to set off for the bookstore.  I fully woke up a couple hours later when they arrived back home eager to show me their loot.

I’m starting to thing this whole Black Friday thing might not be so bad after all.  Now if only I could get them to bring me back a latte and a fresh bagel…

Early this morning, when all the house was still asleep, I started procrastinating searching for Important Things on the internet.   I accidently found myself doing a little bit of blog-hopping when I came across a post that touched me deeply.   The author wrote about how sad Thanksgiving was for her. I found myself reading and nodding along as she wrote that while she was  happy to be included in so many Thanksgivings with her friends, she was mostly just deeply missing having her entire family gathered around the table. 

I kept this blogger’s thoughts with me as I set about my work.  I have to admit that I had myself a bit of a pity party as I remembered the huge family gatherings from my youth.  We had very different childhoods and as much as Shaun indulges me, he  just doesn’t understand that I need lot of people around me to share the holidays with.  He just didn’t get my melancholy over the fact that our plans had fallen through and that we were on our own for the day. Holidays were never a bit deal for him, but it was all about family for me.  I can remember running wild with my cousins while the women cooked as they gossiped in the kitchen and the men did Manly Things like set up a table system that would seat at least twenty people.  It was a few days of chaos and pandemonium.  It was..simply wonderful. 

For this lonesome holiday I had planned on making  just a few simple dishes instead of the Great Feast.  That, of course, was before everyone started putting their request in.  As I set about preparing our dishes, I started to remember…to really think…about  where each of these special recipes had originated and who I assoiciated with each of them. 

My Aunt Aleta first brought the 7-Up Jello Salad to one of our gatherings. (Although I’m not sure how one can call a strange mixture of Jello, cream cheese, pineapple and 7-Up a salad)  We all loved it and it was immediately added it to our Must-Have list.  I had to grin as I chopped the sweet potatoes up and thought of our friend Stephen and how much he detests them.  As I watched my fingers cut maraschino cherries into small bits for Glorified Rice,  I suddenly saw my grandma’s gnarled hands doing the same exact thing.  As I formed small balls of dough and covered them to rise, I thought of the traditional  Brown N’ Serve rolls that were nearly always forgotten and someone had to run to the store for.  On and on it went…the memories started flowing over me.  From the year the pilot light on the oven went out leaving us with a raw turkey to the olives that we kids stuck to the ends of our fingers thinking we were so clever. 

As the morning wore on, my lightened and I started, just as the blogger I had visited earlier,  to feel the gratitude for all that I have.  It may not have been the huge gathering of my youth that I longed to recreate, but I did have my immediate family with me all day long.  I also had the memories of each Thanksgiving that I have celebrated through the years.  They are all special days and I’m glad to have them.  

I can only hope that we have made enough wonderful memories with our girls to sustain them if they ever need a little help remembering how much they have to be thankful for…