Sunday, December 9, 2012


A perfect night's sleep.

pancakes for the family and then a morning to myself at home in quiet, pandora's 'Nutcracker' station as I do laundry and wrap gifts.

A Jewish friend of ours has a party every year to help decorate her family's Christmas tree.  Yes, there is contradiction there.  But not really.

This year the party was a loud one with toddlers, preschoolers, and big kids all equally destroying the playroom. 

Jars of home-made jam with hand-sewn labels given out as gifts.  Soup, cheese spread, latkas and rukla made by Jewish mothers who fret over the sour cream not being set next to the apple sauce.  I love Jewish mothers.  They make elaborate rainbow jello desserts for Christmas tree decorating parties. 

Noise, noise, noise.  Fancy wing-tip shoes by one of the eight lesbians at the party.  I asked to instagram them, and she obliged.  She teased me later when I pulled out my phone, as an addict does.  So many nice people.  This world is chock full of such really nice people.

Packed up food for my husband who had to miss the party due to teaching class.  We meet five minutes early at our Sunday night church, and he devours the food.  Our eldest goes in to do Bible drills and songs while our youngest stays with us for punishment for back-talk at the party.  He squirrels around but settles in to my lap during the sermon, and I turn a blind eye to the thumb-sucking which his dentist says must stop.  For this sermon, it keeps him still.

I lean down and whisper to him that I love him.  He says he loves me too.  He sniffs my hand the way he's done since infancy, a way he lulls himself to sleep.  He says I always smell the same, like mom.  He's been difficult lately but my heart melts.

A spoken-word poem by a congregant with piano and drums to back her up.  I was feeling it.  I was amazed. 

Introverted us make ourselves talk to people and are rewarded by warmth and love and hugs.  It's only been two months, but this church feels like home.

Apples on sale for 99cents a pound.  Satsumas for a little more.  A bottle of wine while I'm at it.  Meet at home.  Pack the lunches for Monday.  Eldest astounds us with her reading skills in our Christmas storybook from my mom.  To bed. 

To bed.

This was Sunday, two weeks before Christmas.

1 comment:

  1. I love this. There is something happy, peaceful, silly, reflective, fun about this post that totally and completely appeals to me. It made me smile, and tonight that smile feels like a gift. So, thank you. Keep writing. I am liking the blog, a lot.