Stay. Curious.

Yesterday, I had the absolute privilege to get a call from a close friend that does not live close to me at all.  And you should read that with all of the bitterness that I can muster in those words because I am really quite insulted that she is not my next door neighbor, but instead, lives 7 hours away from me. Rude.

We chatted about the wonderful and heart wrenching, rewarding and worrisome,  blessed and overwhelming, gig that is being a Mom. She once told me that Moms are only as happy as their unhappiest child. That is God’s Honest Truth. This Motherhood job is the Jerry McGuire version of “up at dawn, pride-swallowing siege that I will never fully tell you about, ok?!” And still, we carry on. 

This morning, I received a text from this same sweet friend that said, “I also want to say that I really just wanted you to know what is going on in my life. Yes, give me all the advice and wisdom, but also, I’m just grateful for you to be a part of my life.” Swoon. 

You should know that this friend of mine is special and I won’t ever ever give her up. We met in the 2nd grade and became instant friends when we discovered that we lived in the same neighborhood. Ahem. Mrs. Dixon was calling out our names and checking our addresses and the criteria for becoming best friends at the time could be a very short list, like just living within bike riding distance.  (hint hint)  Of course, I was not allowed to ride my bike past the stop sign at the time and she lived on just one more block and one left turn, so it took some Moms interventions to make this friendship happen. And, 40 plus years later, it seemed to work. 

All that to say, this girl gets me and we will go too long between talking and connecting because see above and life. Still she can channel her inner C+C Music Factory from Myrtle Beach Senior Week circa 1990 and can say things that make me go, hmmmm….

“I just want you to know what is going on in my life.” What a powerful thing to be a part of another person’s life. To make sure that the people you love and know you know you, actually know what is happening. We are busy. Plates are overflowing-ly full. And even though we have access to all of this social media and technology designed to help us connect with near and far, really getting to really know what is really happening with each other, is hard.  

Note: I am not ready for this to turn into some kind of condemnation of social media and technology because heaven knows, my weekly screen time report is nothing to be proud of and I don’t use any of it well. I’m good at other things. Thanks for teaching me that, Jen Hatmaker. . 

But I do feel less and less of a connection to some people because I don’t know what is happening in their lives. And they don’t know what is happening in mine. And part of that is the fact that what is shared a lot of the time, is heavily curated good news on facebook or pretty sunset pics and clever captions on Insta. For the record, I enjoy these two things. I like sharing good news and celebrations. I want to share how pretty the lake is. 

But that brag about my kiddo’s sports team accomplishments and that lake picture does not tell you anything about what is happening in my life. All it does is tell you where I am sitting a few hours out of the day. Either in bleachers. Or on the dock. And explains why I have a pretty decent tan still. 

But that does not tell anyone that I’m really feeling every bit of 50 these days and that I’m struggling with changes that need to happen. Those pictures don’t share that I’m excited for the next steps that my kids are getting ready to take, but I can’t actually believe that one is in college. There’s no way anyone would know that I really want to feel like I am having a positive impact in my work and also think I might like to start a flower cart and make corsages and boutineres for high school dances for fun. 

Here’s the thing: we all deserve to have friends like mine and I’m so thankful that she wants to make sure I know what is happening in her life. Like I want her to know what is happening in mine. And I guess I want us all to have a friend like that. I want us all to remember that the posts, and pictures, and things we think we know about one another, are likely full of gaps. I hope we all find those people, the ones who don’t let us fill in the blanks by ourselves, the ones who take the time and make the effort to connect and share, and the ones who remind us, like Ted Lasso, to stay a little more open and curious, and a little less judgmental. 

Come on, y’all. Let’s win! Go, make good things happen. 

Place. My Anxiety with Old Stories in Plastic

As I mentioned yesterday, I’ve just started searching for all of my old blog posts. I know when I moved from wordpress over to my own hosted domain, that I backed everything up. I think I’ve found that file, but I have no idea how to import old posts or what that could/would/should look like. I JUST found that many of the posts I remember are still here, which I’m so over the moon about!

This is such an odd feeling. But I feel like I’ve just found a chest of old love letters that had been forgotten about. Words and stories that I once poured over 10 years ago, when my kids were Littles. I keep finding files that are filled with pictures of these tiny humans that I adore sitting on an old park bench behind a funny thing they used to say or do.

I’m so very thankful that these exist or they might have been forgotten forever. But I’m sad that I left them all like I did. Shouldn’t they have been protected? Placed in a special spot, wrapped in plastic like my Grandmother’s couch or the little runway paths she had to cover high traffic carpet areas?

I’m feeling a bit melancholy (pronounced like Will Ferrell says it in MegaMind though, with the emphasis on the wrong syllables–that’s the only way I can ever hear that word, ever.) I miss those stories. I miss those times to capture those strings of words. I miss all of the stories that I didn’t write down. I stopped writing and share some because the kids got older and I didn’t think it was fair to them to share my thoughts on their stories without getting their permission first.

I think most of all, I just miss those tiny humans. The ones that loved their momma so big and had to be tucked in at night and didn’t have phones and wanted to cuddle with me on the couch. Now they are big, busy, distracted, and while I’m sure they still love their Momma, it might not feel quite as big at the moment. One is away at school and calls me to tell me all the ways that her world is hard and complicated. Trust me, I’m here for every single bit of it, with an empathetic ear and little tragic optimism. And the other one tesll me when he needs some lunch money and who is coming to pick him up to take him to practice and can he please practice drive to the mall? And again, I’m here for that and just happy that I get more than one word in a text.

I’m also worried about the missing stories. The ones I haven’t found yet. The ones that are maybe lost in the ether somewhere when that domain went away and I stopped paying for the hosting. Where are those stories? What if I forget them forever?

I need to do something with the found ones. Save them. Print them. Publish them as a book of short stories. Maybe a cautionary tale to other Mommas to remind them to tell their stories, write them down. Put them in a safe place.

Maybe even In plastic.

(And thanks Peppers for the sweet Welcome Backs that I’ve gotten! Y’all are sweet!)

Wait. Write Again? Are we doing this?

Honestly. I didn’t think this site still existed. Is it still even connected to WordPress at all? Once upon a time, many years ago when I still referred to my kiddos as littles, I wrote and published almost everyday. And then one day, I decided to move things to my own domain and site. And I wrote there for a while and posted and published. And then one day, it all got complicated and complex and it suddenly wasn’t much fun anymore. So I stopped. Well, I stopped posting and publishing, but didn’t stop writing. I just wasn’t sharing it anymore.

But recently, I’ve decided to make a few changes and in that process, I’m feeling called to write and post and publish again. I’m working on a new idea and started seeking out my old words. I’m finding them all over the place. Tucked into folders on old hard drives, hidden in corners with names that make no sense at all. I’ve started collecting them. Trying to put them all back together, like a class reunion or getting the band back together.

Then. Today. November 1st. I stumbled upon a post made by an ‘old’ blogging wordpress friend who mentioned NaNoWriMo and then immediately and quite randomly, but clearly on purpose, crashed into some ‘old’ NanoPoblano pepper friends. And before I knew it, I was typing the made up word, MommyVerbs, into my search bar. And lo, and behold, my ‘old’, once abandoned, trapped in time, collection of words was still there. With an old design and many tags that I don’t remember, but still somewhat strangely familiar.

And I thought…maybe it is time to dust it off. Just to write. Hit publish. See what happens. Get connected. Read and catch up with a community. So, here I am. I have no plan. I don’t even really remember how to do all the things that I once knew how to do.

But here I am. Are we really doing this?

Track. Back On It.

Recently, I started taking a hot yoga class. I love all things beach and sauna and hot and sweaty like that, so this is so up my alley. The poses are challenging for me at times, but I love the spirit of the room. Everything about it feels encouraging. The space. The music. The too adorable yogi instructor. Even if I can’t hold my pigeon or tree pose, I still feel motivated to keep trying.

Every now and then I check my reflection in the mirror and I’m kind of surprised. I feel like I look much different than I actually do. In my mind, I’m all lean and tall and willowy and flowy, because that’s how yoga seems to make me feel. But my reflection gives off a different vibe. It looks short and full and stiff and struggle-y. So, I choose not to look at the mirror very often…because I love the way I feel in my mind’s eye yoga.

The times that I do look in the mirror, I am always drawn to a woman near the front of the room. She wears a purple headband and she is always smiling. Smiling. Like her resting face expression is just this simple pleasant little grin. I don’t know how she does that through the pigeon but she does. Smiling. Like she knows a secret but she’s not telling. And I think I love her and her face. I’ve decided. I want to be like the purple hot yoga lady when I grow up.

Once upon a time, I started my own blog. It was a simple thing. Full of verbs and action stories, documenting my simple life with its big stories and reflections. It was a big leap of vulnerability but I was embraced by a community of other writers doing their thing, with their words, on their pages. And it was a good thing.

Somewhere along the way, I got distracted. And the blog became something else and I got lured in by numbers and awards and thoughts of hey, maybe this can be something else, something bigger. And maybe it could have been, but along that path, it got complicated. And I found myself in a land of overthinking and trying to understand hosting and domain registrations. Words like Google ads and monetizing would keep me up at night, make my stomach hurt and kept me from the verbs and the nouns that I had come to love so much. And more importantly, I lost the connection to the one thing that had drawn me in here: connection.

So. Thanks to one of my wanna be BFFs, Danielle LaPorte, I recently made my way back to her Desire Map book and reconnected with my core desired feelings: Connection. Purpose. Presence. (Thanks Danielle–anytime you want to meet for some coffee or tea, I’m so there for you, babe.)

And I realized that I just miss writing. I miss stringing words together and seeing how they land on the page. I miss reading other people’s writing and being able to comment and say Hello and connect with their stories and lives. I miss writing for the sheer act of writing. To tell a story. To document a fleeting thought. To question. To reflect. I lost my purpose for MommyVerbs, which is so silly, because it was always right there in the tagline. Engage each day with action words, to make good things happen. Purpose.

So, I’m trying to make my way back. Back to MommyVerbs. Back to writing. Back to Connection. Purpose. And being Present in the act of putting words to paper/screen.

The other site still lives over at MommyVerbs.com because I do seem to own that internet real estate space until 2019. Even though it overwhelms me and has never really felt like home. There are words stored there and I can’t quite pack them up just yet. But for now, I’m going to dust off these shelves and pull in a chair and a comfy fuzzy blanket and settle in for a bit. See what happens. See who still lives in the neighborhood. Invite them over for some cookies and a glass of wine. And Reconnect. Repurpose. Re-presence. (That’s not a word, I used to do that all the time in this space…play and make up new words. It’s what I do here, clearly.)

756 words to say very little other than to make a declaration of sorts. I’m going to be the equivalent of the purple hot yoga lady on a blog. I’m just going to smile through it all. I don’t even remember completely how this all works. So, I will apologize if some of you receive an email or your readers ding you to check in. Just imagine me smiling though my pigeon pose, which they tell me opens up my hips–I’ll take their word for it.

Just over here smiling, seeking connection. Writing for a more authentic purpose. And trying to be present, here, now, to make good things happen.

Let’s all Go, Do that.

 

Doodle. — Treasures Found.

I used to get so anxious when people messed with my lists and To Do notebooks.

I needed them to be pretty close to uncluttery.

But as usual, having kiddos has made me let that little obsession for perfection go.

(Just like Felix had to let go of the whole “no spots on the faucet’ thing he used to fuss about several years ago.)

Now,  every so often, I will flip through my To Do list notebook and find little treasures.

Little treasures left as doodles by the boy child.

Now, I’m so glad when I find these.

They are like snapshots of  his five year old thinking. Right now.

Yes. Yes, you are smart. Always believe this. But never ever begin to think that you are too smart to learn.

You have an awesome imagination. I hope you will always make time for play. And dream up penguins named “Bacon”. (Actually, the teacher in me thinks you are spelling “Penguin” there at the top…But as your Momma, I just think it is pretty ironic that it also looks a lot like “Bacon”.)

      

Holidays are magical. And I get the message, you are not a fan of turkey or … mashed potatoes, maybe? At least right now. I am betting that will change as you get older. But I think we both agree that Santa is awesome and should always be in color!

Always know this. You will always be in my heart, too, Buddy. (That is X and Me! Just in case you couldn’t tell!)

You. You are a treasure.

And so are your random doodles.

Gasp. — Then Get Up and Try It Again.

I remember when my kiddos were just learning to walk.

For a short time, they both did the Frankenstein walk, taking a few unsteady steps with both hands either out in front of them or above their heads for balance.

And inevitably, they would stumble and fall.  Y was always pretty good about getting her hands down in front of her to cushion the landing. But the boy child. Oy. The boy child was always a little top heavy it seems and while he got his hands down, he still ended up falling forward until his little forehead touched the ground. I swear in slow motion sometimes.

Fortunately, we haven’t had any super major injuries (KNOCK ON WOOD!) except for that one unfortunate collision that X had with the corner of the kitchen counter a few years ago that left his father and I making that decision about heading to the Emergency Room. Felix googled and made some phone calls, while I stood there looking at the hole in his little forehead, saying, “Yeah, that is not going to close up on its own.” while realizing that the loudest cries where coming not from the injured boy but from the hysterical girl child, sobbing on the couch a few feet away. But I digress…

Being a connoisseur of all things parenting magazines and books back then, I recall articles from random people who are experts on … well, themselves … about how I should react when my kiddos fall down. I remember reading about how I shouldn’t OVERreact, how I shouldn’t run over to them and make a big deal about things, but instead I should encourage them to get back up and do it again.

Easier said that done when it is your kid hitting the pavement.

But I have to say that I have developed my own personal response style when it comes to my kiddos falling down and/or getting hurt.

I gasp.

I don’t mean to, but I have come to realize that when they are doing those things that could cause major injuries and more trips to the Emergency Room…like jumping off of high things or swerving on bikes and doing tricks off of the diving board or throwing balls at each other’s heads or … you know, the stuff of being kids… I gasp.

I suck in air and make a noise like the world is ending in front of my eyes. Probably in reaction to my heart skipping a beat and my mind’s eye seeing all the ways that this could go terribly wrong, terribly quickly.

But then I will say that I do recover quickly and tend to respond in a fairly calm manner to each of these scenarios:

*** If it was a ‘kid-stoopid’ thing to do but no one is hurt: “GASP!!!!! OMG, Do NOT do that again!”

OR

***If it was a ‘kid-stoopid’ thing to do but there is a minor injury: “GASP!!!!! Are you ok? OMG, Do NOT do that again!”

OR

***If it wasn’t a ‘kid-stoopid’ thing, but was a true accident with a minor injury: “GASP!!!!! Are you ok? Let me see it. Let’s get you fixed up. Ok. Get up and and try it again!”

Depending on the situation, there might be a kiss and a cuddle or an extended time spent just holding in my lap, but then it is usually, “Get up and try it again.”

It is just hard to watch them fall down. It is. There is nothing easy about seeing your child get hurt or seeing the potential for injury which abounds in kidland. Mommas are masters at the silent prayer, “Please don’t let them get hurt. Please don’t let them get hurt.”

But isn’t it true … that making mistakes and getting hurt sometimes is part of the learning process. A part of the process where we learn how to make better choices. And we learn how to do things better. Because if we don’t fall down. If we don’t mess up. If we don’t get messy. If we don’t try. If we don’t take a risk sometimes. We never learn what we can do. We live in fear and miss some of the magic that comes from these experiences.

And as parents, as hard as it is, we have to let them try. We have to let them know that …

We fall down. We get back up. And we learn.

We learn to keep our balance better.

We learn to land with both feet.

We learn to protect ourselves.

We learn to think ahead and have a plan.

We learn not to make too-sharp turns.

We learn to watch where we are going.

We learn how to try something new. And then try again.

We learn that it is not the end of the world if we do fall down.

And we learn that someone we love will be there to pick us up when we do.

Even if your Momma does make that horrible GASPing noise in the process.

We still learn how to get back up, dust ourselves off …

and try it again.

Let’s all, Go. Do that.

Just for fun, here are a few video examples of my kiddos falling down. 

While ice skating. 

My GASPS are not audible, (however my southern drawl seems to be working overtime) but trust me, there were LOTS of GASPS!  Lots of them! And for the entire three hours that we were all on the ice, my silent prayer was: “Please don’t break anything. Please don’t break anything.” 

This is my hockey player, for sure. Look at that style of run, glide, run, crash. At least he followed my directions when I said, “Don’t hit your head!”

Yeah. I know. Ouch. This is when I remembered how serious I was about NOT falling down myself! I don’t bounce like that anymore.

Y’s my cautious glider. She got the hang of it so fast and I think she is really good considering this is her second time on ice in three years. (Third if you count that weird outside plastic ice rink we went to that time. But that was just weird, skating on white plastic and made me paranoid about the plastic shavings all over us…and even though it was on ice skates, I don’t think it should count.)

And then the race. Figure skater vs. hockey player. Y would like it duly noted that X crashed immediately after he passed by the camera. That’s true.

And the sibling love continues on.

Nourish. — Green Smoothies and Big Dreams

This morning, I opened the fridge and pulled out the spinach, an avocado, a lime and a banana to make my favorite green smoothie.

It is the prettiest of greens and although it might not sound good to you, it really does taste great.

I love to pour it into X’s Avenger tumbler and head off to work with it in hand. It is like my very own Incredible Hulk smoothie and I like to think I look cooler carrying this young, hip cup into the office.

But more than the perceived hip factor, I also love what this green drink  does for me.

It provides nourishment.

This is good for me. This greenness in a superhero cup feeds me well. It gives my body energy…good, whole foods energy. There is nothing fake. Nothing processed. Nothing phony baloney in it. Just a serving of fruit and a serving of vegetables that I can enjoy before 9 a.m.

In a superhero cup no less.

And this is what I want 2014 to be about. This is the verb.

Nourish. To provide with food or other substances necessary for life and growth.

As Mommas, we work hard everyday to make sure we are providing our families with the “food and other substances necessary for life and growth.”  We stock the fridge and pantry with good foods.  We make sure people are fed and clothed and as clean as humanly possible in kidland. We take note that the jackets are zipped up and the shoe strings are tied before they head out the door. We’ve read with them and checked their homework. We’ve tucked them in and sang the 17 required songs and supplied the hugs and kisses needed for sweet dreams. We plan for their events and schedule the games and practices into our lives. We encourage their BIG dreams and applaud their triumphs and confidence. We cuddle them through disappointments that teach life lessons along the way. We say prayers at night for their health and safety.

We remind. We teach. We fuss. We laugh. We cry. We play. We feed. We zip and tie. We love.

All in the name of providing them with the nourishment that they need to grow and live life.

And we get up the next day and do it all over again.

In 2014, I want us Mommas to remember that we also need to make sure we are just as focused on nourishing ourselves just as much as we think about how we provide nourishment to our families.

Sometimes I think that it is selfish of me to still have BIG dreams. To still want to do ‘other’ things with my life. Sometimes I think, I had my chance. I should have done it then. I should have traveled there before. I should have pursued this goal a long time ago. Sometimes I think that my time has passed. That this should be their time. That my focus should be on them now.

But I always think of a few years ago, when the girl child was just one and I had a chance to go to NYC on a business trip. Travel is a rarity in my work world and I took the opportunity to go and be a part of this conference. While I was there, I started feeling those twangs of Mommy Guilt. Oh, my poor baby, at home with her very capable, very caring father. What have I done? Why did I think I could come to the Big Apple and be among esteemed colleagues and learn more about my profession? Why did I think I could travel and sleep, uninterrupted, in a soft bed with clean sheets and a venture down to a continental breakfast prepared for me? (And on and on and … on…)

Until my friend traveling with me, stopped me from my own self-imposed downward spiral of guilt and regret by saying this:

“By being away on this trip, you are teaching Y a powerful lesson. You are showing her that she can do it all. She can have a family when she grows up. She can have a career. She can always continue to learn, no matter her age. What a gift to show her the power that comes from pursuing a dream.”

Nourishment.

We can still be the Mommas. We can provide and love and care and comfort. And we can also learn and grow and dream and try.

And we should. We should make sure that our bodies, minds and souls are nourished. Everyday.

Eat the food. Get the rest. Write in the journal. Read the books. Listen to the music. Take the class. Be with friends. Be still sometimes.

And go after those BIG dreams, whatever they are, while you encourage your kiddos to pursue their own.

That is how a good teacher teachers. By modeling. By showing. By engaging each day with action words.

We should practice what we preach. We should walk our talk.

Eat well. Play more. Choose happy.

Dream Bigger. Make it happen.

Create the time to really nourish your body, mind and soul in 2014.

(And drink a few green smoothies, too. They are good for you. Trust me.) 

Let’s all, Go. Do that.

Review. — 2013 Report Prepared By Those Lil’ Monkeys Again.

Many thanks to the WordPress.com stats helper monkeys who put this 2013 annual report together for MommyVerbs.

They are the best lil’ flying monkeys around. Not at all scary like in the Wizard of Oz. Because they add fireworks. I do love me some fireworks.

MommyVerbs has really begun to grow into its own this year. What started out as a little therapy on the cheap, a few fun stories and a couple of reflections, has now turned into a good friend. A place to come and be. A place to question. A place to share. MommyVerbs has a few official fans now. Beyond my Mom and my Nonnie, even.  MommyVerbs is getting a reputation, and I’ve even heard from a few folks that I didn’t know were connected to it, share that they enjoy reading it. That always makes me smile.  I hope those who like it will continue to share it with others who may enjoy it, too.

And for me,  MommyVerbs continues to make me be intentional … to be real about engaging each day with action words.

2013 also included a few MommyVerbs pieces showing up on The Huffington Post. A highlight for sure. AND MommyVerbs was also Freshly Pressed this year, a goal since this blog began in 2012. I’ve met a lot of good bloggy friends and I appreciate what they add to the conversation, how their writing challenges me, how they help me with my bloggy questions and beyond.

MommyVerbs has much in store for 2014. Maybe a few guest posts. Maybe a new format or design. Maybe even a MommyVerbs t-shirt … or two. You’ll have to stick around to see what happens.

Which is exactly why New Year’s Eve is my favorite holiday. It is a new calendar. A blank page. A fresh start.

And to quote my high school graduation speech (which was really quoting “Remington Steele” and “Say Anything”:

“Just think of the possibilities. And…Get ready for greatness, Lloyd.”

Happy New Year! Welcome 2014! 

If you are interested, here is a full report of MommyVerb actions this year.  It’s kind of fun and worth the tiny effort of the click. Besides, those ‘lil monkeys worked hard on this. 

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 15,000 times in 2013. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 6 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Pace. — Yourself. You Have 365 of These Days.

The 2013 calendar on the wall knows its days are numbered. For real.

The 2014 calendar is sitting right there below it; staring, just waiting to take its rightful place under the pushpin on the kitchen wall.

I can’t say that this has been my best wrap up to a year though.

The last few days have been filled with a little random illness that kept me sidelined or at least subdued just a little.

I muscled on and faked the smiles and made sure the familial obligatory activities and traditions were all taken care of. But I didn’t have much else to give. I was done. I was exhausted.

All of the ‘getting ready for the holidays’ activities wore me out for the actual holiday activities.

We do that sometimes, us Mommas.

Sometimes we push too hard.

Our lists are long and we busy ourselves taking care of everyone and everything.

The MommyVerbs of our days are many:

Plan. Shop. Wrap. Bake. Create. Paint. Mail. Write. Thank. Invite. Pack. Travel. Clean.

And sometimes we just get tired and our bodies say…Enough.

Our bodies say…Time to take a break.

And we get stubborn and argue and say things like…Not now. There is still so much to do.

Our bodies respond with a sarcastic…No time to slow down, huh? Here. Enjoy this fever. That should do it.

Trumped again. Fever wins.

So. We slow down. We sleep in. We take naps.

Until we start feeling better.

Until we start making those lists again.

Until we start the fevered pace all over again.

Forgetting where this got us in the first place.

And even now, feeling better, I just created a vision board of my 2014 intentions.

It is beautiful, full of to do and to go and to learn and to make happen.

And as I was admiring it, trying to decide where I should start first, what I should do right now…

that overwhelming, exhausting feeling started to creep back in.

Until, I realized and said this out loud:

I don’t have to do it all in one day.

These are intentions for an entire year.

Enough to fill three hundred sixty-five of these days. One day at a time.

So, let’s all slow down a little.

Sleep in a little more sometimes.

Take a nap here and there.

Repeat after me.

I don’t have to do it all in one day.

Pace yourself, Tired Working Mommas, Everywhere.

You have 365 days to get it done in 2014.

Pace yourself.

Let’s All, Go. Do that.

Continue. — Random Holiday Traditions NOT To Be Monkeyed With.

I believe in tradition.

Growing up with some family traditions gives you a strong foundation. Because you know what to expect. You get excited about little things. You look forward to these little things happening. And as you grow up, you share these traditions, these ways of doing things with others.

Sure, you adjust. You are flexible as you need to be based on events and people and time.

Traditions are a guide. Traditions give you a place to start.

And I believe with all of my heart…that you don’t … “monkey with tradition.”

A line I stole from the movie, ‘Mystic Pizza’, and made it one of my life’s ambitions.

I am the glue. I am the memory. I am the keeper of the tradition.

I feel a responsibility to keep them going. To keep them alive. Even if no one notices or is even paying attention, it is important to me that we keep doing these things.

So here is a list of our random family holiday traditions.

That should never ever be monkeyed with.

Ever.

Christmas:

1. We open all of the family presents on Christmas Eve.

2. Santa brings unwrapped presents on Christmas morning.

3. Our elf on the shelf is named, Holly. I know, he has a girl name, but he’s a boy. Elf’s do that sometimes. Apparently. Especially when they are named by 5 year old girls.

4. Holly shows up on the first night that the Christmas tree lights go on. That’s how he knows to come.

5. The tree always goes up after Thanksgiving and usually comes down after New Year’s Day.

6. On Christmas Eve, the kiddos get to hug and kiss Holly goodbye. But he must be on the tree before bedtime so Santa can find him and take him home.

7. You may not go downstairs on Christmas morning before Momma. She must get the picture of the kiddos at the top of the stairs in full excitement mode.  It’s a Momma Rule. And Momma Rules can’t be broken.

8. We will have Monkey Bread for breakfast on Christmas morning. And we eat our Monkey Bread off of little blue Snowman plates. That is the only action those plates see all year.

9. We drive about 45 minutes to see Santa each year. We meet family friends for lunch and listen to THE Santa sing songs, play guitar and tell stories. It is pure Christmas magic. We believe.

10. We will always give our friends an ornament of some sort as a Christmas present.

11. We will always give a photo calendar to our Nanas, Maws and PawPaws.

12. There will always be 3 new ornaments added to the tree each year: one with a picture of X, one with a picture of Y and one with a picture of me and Felix together. Each with the current year engraved on it.

13. At Maw Betty’s house, we will always hang the “Horton Balls”, handmade ornaments with each person’s name on one.  New additions of babies or unions are added each year.

14. We open presents one at a time. Sometimes we clap for each present. But not always.

15. We watch the TBS 24 hours of A Christmas Story for … well, almost 24 hours. I’m actually sad when it is over.

New Year’s Eve (My favorite holiday):

16. We bring the neighbors some oranges.

17. We eat 12 grapes at midnight.

18. We make our Family Mind Map of Goals for the new year.

Valentine’s Day:

19. Is always Family Fondue Night! A night for us to stay in and enjoy each our family, while dipping random food into chocolate.

Fourth of July aka Y’s Birthday:

20. Fireworks. No matter where we are. Fireworks.

Halloween:

21. We use the classic plastic pumpkins to go trick or treating. No bags or pillow cases for us.

Thanksgiving;

22. We go to an indoor water park on or around this holiday.

Birthdays:

23. You can have Monkey Bread for Breakfast if you would like. You always get to choose the food for the day.

24. There will be a sunrise walk and photo shoot on the beach and I will make you hold up your fingers to show your age. Guaranteed.

25. There will be number candles on your cakes. Not just the number of individual candles, but candles (and sometimes even the cakes) in the shape of numbers. Because they are cool.

And because it is … tradition.

And…say it with me…“You don’t monkey with tradition.” 

You just keep making new ones.

Merry Christmas, Action Worders!