'Tis the season to lose your flippin' mind,--or not

I'm just going to go ahead and say it. These last few years I have not been feeling Christmas.  I would go  so far as to say, I find it oppressive. Maybe it's because the Christmas season now officially begins the day after Halloween.  This is particularly annoying because Halloween is my favorite holiday.  The opportunity for unbridled creativity, the lack of obligatory gift giving, now that's something to be celebrated.  The abrupt intrusion of Christmas leaves absolutely no time to bask in the glory that is Halloween, not to mention poor old Thanksgiving.  But I digress.  Maybe it's because I'm no longer a child, so rather than being the focus of all that "Christmas Magic", as a wife and mother I'm expected to be the origin of all said magic.  The decorations, the presents, the thank you notes, the food.   Oh and let's not forget all those friggin' cards.  I did not realize this would all fall on me when I said 'I do'.  To be fair, in recent years my husband has realized how I feel and has tried to help, with only a modicum of success.

I'm writing all of this not to vent, but rather to give you some idea what a welcome change this year has been.  I knew something good was afoot when my mother- in -law called to find out what my son wanted for Christmas.  This is not unusual, she usually checks in.  But this year as I struggled to think of what he might really want, (he's not really a toy-loving kid), she said she'd like to do something meaningful, not just give more stuff.  I could have hugged her through the phone.  What we came up with is one practical thing that my son had actually asked for, a soft new bathrobe, (what can I say he's a comfort junkie like me), and that she would chip in for the gymnastics classes that he will begin taking next month.  If any of you are homeschoolers you know what a true blessing it is to have help paying for classes.

Other things have fallen into place as well. My friend Jen, sent us a beautiful card with a montage of family photos.  I have long dreaded trying to choose the right Christmas cards for everyone.  Usually I end up buying one set of cards for our friends who are religious and another more secular set so as not to offend those of our friends who are not religious.  Neither one ever feels quite true to who we are as a family. Those who know me well know I am more spiritual than religious, so the manger scenes don't really represent, and the winter wonderland scenes seem a little ridiculous being sent from a place where the average temperature on Christmas is 65 degrees.  I've been considering a picture card as that is a trend that I really quite enjoy.  I know it sounds silly, but I really thought you had to choose just one picture.  The OCD part of me can never choose just one photo to represent a whole year.  Well, the one Jen sent had 9! Awesome, bless those geniuses at Shutterfly! I actually had fun putting together our card.   You can see it if you scroll down two entries.   They arrived just minutes ago, so there is actually a chance that some people will get theirs' by New Years. But in reality no worries because if we are commemorating Jesus' birthday for real, historians have figured that Joseph and Mary were probably traveling for the census somewhere closer to July than December, so I've got time.

Gift giving has been relatively painless, as well.  I didn't do a lot of shopping, and most of what I did do I did online.  Including a  fun trip to the Heifer Foundation site with my son, which I highly recommend.

The last thing that can make this time of year difficult, is trying to get together with family. If people live far away it's usually no small feat.  So imagine my delight at being able to see my sister who lives down south two days ago.

The whole thing was pretty magical.  On Friday I was in the parking lot at a grocery store that go to rather infrequently. I was just about to pull out of my spot when my sister called to ask me something about a package that she was about mail to us. We were chatting away about her recent wedding,( a charming, very private affair which she and husband pulled off quite seamlessly), when in the rear view mirror, I spotted her brother walking by. (Yes, I said her brother, it's an interesting story but other people tell it better than I could.) So I called him over to say hi to her, and she tells him she's going to be in town for work Monday.  So, when I get back on the phone we hatch a plan for both their families to come over for dinner when she finishes.  Now, mind you, her brother and I have been trying to get together for dinner for about 3 years now... Monday morning, at her request I called her dad who lives near by to invite him for dinner which by then I had figured would have to be potluck, since I am not Martha Stewart.  He's a very go with the flow kind of guy so he was totally up for it. Long story short, that night 11 of us gathered for an evening of laughter, love, and Indian food.

So my point is this, it's 4 days out from Christmas, I haven't written a single card, the only decorating I've done is to hang a wreath, and I have only a vague idea of what we will be eating.  In spite of all that, I am relaxed and having the best Christmas season I've had in years. Because rather than just get caught up in the madness, my family and I have communicated, figured out what we really want;  done it our way, made it ours.

Finding Your Tribe

In this day and age of instant easy access to everyone and everything, where staying "connected" is a buzzword, it would seem like making friends would be as easy as pie. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it really seems to be just the opposite.  I think with technology like texting and Facebook, we have come to take each other for granted.

Back in the day, you would go to summer camp and hangout with all these new fun kids for a week and then it was done.  On that last day the scraps of paper with scrawled addresses were exchanged in a flurry of hopeful sadness.  You knew that if you wanted a real friendship you would have to make an effort, letters would have to be written.  At that time long distance phone calls were not unlimited, they were a financial commitment reserved for grandparents and other close family.  So-- you wrote letters back and forth which you read and re-read, strengthening those bonds until the next summer when you would see each other. These days we can literally tap our phones together and exchange numbers.  Our pda's are full of contact info for wonderful people we will never talk to again.  I don't know whether it is fear of seeming too eager and not cool, or if we are just plain too busy. But it seems we have lost the art of making real friends.  Well, I say no more.   It is time to be bold, to be yourself and see what happens.  In recent years I have been handsomely rewarded for doing just that.

Up until a few years ago, I was living here in Oakland with my then boyfriend, who was just about my only friend. I went about my daily life, working as a receptionist and speaking to literally hundreds of people a week. But outside of work, I did not seem to find anyone to hang out with.  I'm a So-Cal native, and as such I'm really open and will talk to anyone.   When I lived down there I hung around with a couple of great groups of people and had several close friendships, mostly platonic ones with guys.  Somehow that aesthetic doesn't really translate here.  The guys all wanna get with you, and the girls can't be bothered for the most part.  Then, about 7 years ago, I had my son.  Why, in all the talk about the glories of motherhood, does no one tell you about how soul-suckingly lonely it can be? I was not prepared.   I figured I would go to the park and instantly bond with all those other mommies through talk about attachment parenting and cloth vs. disposable diapers.  Not so. What I found were nannies and mothers who looked at me with vague curiosity, (my son is bi-racial), but with very few exceptions they did not speak to me even when I tried to initiate casual conversation.  That is until I went to the local library's story time and met a woman who is now one of my closest friends.  She invited to me come to a playgroup, and at first I was skeptical 'cause  I'm not a joiner and the term play date had always kinda given me the creeps. I wasn't able to to make it right away but we eventually ran into each other again, she re-extended the offer, and I accepted. What I found was a group of creative, cool, women who were fun and still had personalities that extended past their roles as mothers and/or wives.  We bonded over a shared love of living lives that were true to our core values, laughter, and of course food.  Don't get me wrong,  we are not some kind of chocolate Stepford, nodding in slack-jawed agreement at each others' every word.  We are all races and religions-- doctors, stay-at-home moms, lawyers, dancers and entrepreneurs.  What we have in common is that we live life on our own terms.  At a recent child-free gathering, over a few glasses of wine, we came to the conclusion that we all were lone wolves, who found our pack.

More recently, I was exiting a performance of one of my all time favorite bands, Soundgarden. Now, as a life long lover of rock music, I am used to being the only girl of color banging her head. So imagine my delight when across the littered floor of the Civic Auditorium, I saw them--two African-American women about my age. Our eyes locked and we practically skipped over to meet each other. We talked as we walked of our love for all things rock and the tragic absence of others like us at the shows that we had attended over the years.  Long story short, I exchanged numbers with one of the women and went on my merry way home.  About a month ago, she texted me that Chris Cornell the superbly talented and handsome (that's a whole 'nother posting) frontman of Soundgarden was coming back to town on his current Songbook Tour and did I want to go? I briefly ponder whether it was wrong or overly indulgent to see the same performer  3 times in one year,(to be fair Chris twice, Soundgarden once), I decided to go with no, it was not, and yes, I did want to go.  That night was a first, she, I and two other fabulous self- confessed Black nerds went to one of the most enjoyable shows I have ever attended. It was so good to be there with my sisters who not only adored the performer, but also got where I was coming from. Again, I had found my tribe. Now in both cases, if I had just given the "what's up" nod, like we do, I would have missed out on so very much. So this is my advice to anyone out there who is feeling disconnected. Go where you love to go, do what you love to do, look people in the eye,  say hello,  and above all, don't be afraid to let your freak flag fly. Your tribe is looking for you.

Happy Chrismakwaanzakkuh

Hello

So this is my first foray into the blogging world. It's kind of like writing a letter to everyone and no one in particular all at once. I had the idea to do this, or rather, I was given the idea by a couple of my good friends who say I am a fountain of random useful knowledge. Emphasis on the random. It seems like whenever my one of my friends is in a quandary about something, I've either read something, seen something, or heard something that can help. I'm not a know- it -all, not by far. What I am is curious. I'm a seeker, always have been. When something piques my curiosity, I research it-- through books, the Internet, documentaries, questions to people who do the thing I'm interested in, and sometimes I try it out myself. And when I've satisfied my curiosity, I mentally file what I've learned away for future use. This blog is that future.

Rather than one general blog with occasional entries, I've hopefully made this site more fun and easier to navigate by breaking it up into various pages, making entries when the spirit moves. So feel free to tune in to what piques your curiosity and ignore what doesn't.

Happy Reading,
Mamma Jeanine