Mid-October

One would think that by now, a sense of peace and tranquility would set in, just before the craziness that is the holiday season. The kids have been in school for a couple of months now, and I purposely lowered my schedule at David's school this year since I am the PTA President again this year, but I still find myself doing a million things and am unable to finish them all.

So I think to myself, Why am I doing a million things? Why do I think I need to finish them all? Where did I get the idea that all these things are vital to the existence of my family, to my personal happiness, to the forging of world peace in these trying times? To be sure, the media (both television and print) has a large part of blame here. But so do my memories, the ones I'm absolutely sure of and the ones I think I'm absolutely sure of -- my grandmother with food on the stove at all hours of the day, ready for anyone who might drop by unannounced; my Mom who never ever bought either of her children a store bought costume for Halloween (a particularly hard one for me this time of year); my aunt's Nativity scene, comprised of seven stunningly beautiful pieces (Mary, Joseph, Baby Jesus, Three Wise Men, and an Angel) and what can best be described as a hodgepodge of birthday cake figures, Hot Wheel cars, animals from an assortment of zoo sets, errant Lego people, enough aluminum foil to conduct the electricity in her house for the entire month of December, rejected Christmas lights, the "smoke houses" from fireworks on the Fourth of July, and on and on, all lovingly contained in no less than 157 shoeboxes and which would form the most magnificent Nativity display, covering two full walls in her home, made almost entirely of kids plastic and visually breathtaking in its simplicity.

I'm lucky to get chocolate chip cookies baked in the oven (half the time they're from scratch; half the time, I'm slicing from the refrigerated roll), so my memories of her green baked macaroni (better than it sounds) or cinnamon bread are still just memories. I made Mackenzie's mummy costume last year (no size 3 mummy costumes anywhere) and it came out great, but I started in early September and barely had it finished in time for Halloween. David was a homemade robot the year before and that was easier -- a box, silver paint, some CD's, duct tape, some battery operated lights, and a handful of other things I found perusing the aisles at Home Depot, but still, a three week job. I never had a store bought costume, even though my Mom worked full time, and I've been, among other things, a butterfly with wings that moved as I walked (courtesy of a three day migraine Mom had), a ladybug, Joan of Arc (although some said I looked closer to the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz), Puss in Boots, and an Indian dressed in a beautiful silk sari (OK, she borrowed that one from a friend, but it still counts). And while I can only remember two of his costumes from childhood (one year he was the Jolly Green Giant, the next he was a green martian), my brother never had a store bought costume either (well, he was Spiderman one year, but it was purchased at the thrift store, not new off the rack). My Nativity set is from Fontaninni, I purchase one new piece each year and to me it's beautiful. But it doesn't have the feel of my aunt's Nativity, the one where my cousins and I would rip off the figures from our birthday cakes, be they Pooh or Spiderman, as quickly as the candles were blown out and go running to my aunt with the words "For the Nacimiento". She would wrap them in a napkin and they would disappear into her purse, not to be seen again until December. She would use everything we offered her and neither Pooh or Spiderman would look out of place among the other 5 cent pieces in the Nativity set, and we all had a sense of pride at seeing our little contributions used in her yearly masterpiece.

In mid-October, I've already done planning for the next three months. We'll be home for both major holidays this year, a first for our family, and I'm excited that there isn't an airport in my immediate future. There will be holiday concerts and decorations and cookie baskets for neighbors. But those small things, the ones that keep adults sane when they remember their childhoods, I'm not sure if I'll have enough for my kids. I have mine, Keith has his. As I fold laundry or vaccuum, Mackenzie will happily put the princesses through their daily soap opera in the Cinderella castle. Will that be enough for her? Or should we run outside right now and collect the leaves as they change colors? Can I fabricate the memories I think she should have or do I trust that she will have enough to sustain her?

Rantings of a mad woman, watching sunny, colorful days turn into grey colorless ones.