Inspirations from cheese in a can. joey, kelly, danny, and charlie

Lately I’m noticing that this time of year causes people to lose their minds a little bit.  Our already ridiculous to-do lists escalate to preposterous to-do lists.  When I hear the statistics that get dragged out every year about increased rates of depression, suicide, heart attack, and other dreadful things during the holiday season, I’m not even surprised anymore.  It makes sense.  I already feel like life is screaming by me anyway, but around Halloween, everything starts going so much faster.  Everyone starts adding to their lists of events, chores, parties, outings, decorations, gifts, etc.  There are lists of lists, for crying out loud.

Well, I don’t want to play anymore.  My list of things that I have to do this year is much shorter.  I’ll record it for you and posterity right here:

TO DO:
1.  Put my family first.
2.  Be where I am, at all times (not in my head, working on my lists).
3.  Be kind to everyone.

TO DO NOT:
1.  Do not take on so much that I am overwhelmed.
2.  Do not take it out on the people I love when I ignore #1.

If you look carefully, you’ll note that nowhere on my lists is there any mention of Christmas cards, gifts, or cookies.  No parties, decorations, or Santa photos.   Because I don’t have to do any of that stuff.  It’s supposed to be fun, not obligatory.  So I’ll do however much of the fun stuff that seems manageable, realizing that with two children under four, it may be less than in previous years.  Like maybe waaaay less.  And that’s fine.  But I won’t be screamed by this year.  And I won’t be miserable 90% of the time, trying desperately to look Rockwellianly peaceful when I see a camera.

And hey, speaking of Rockwellian peace and cameras, as soon as I figure out what the problem is with this blog and/or gallery and/or blahblahblah, I’m going to post some pictures from Thanksgiving.

My beloved Nana died on this past Sunday, November 15.  Yesterday we went to the funeral.  I was afraid that it would be so awkward and difficult, exhausting and painful.  It really wasn’t any of those things.  I thought that it would be hard to be around my Papa, a painfully recent widower, as he said goodbye to his wife of 52 years.  It wasn’t hard at all.  I’ve never seen him so open, so present, so available.  He accepted every hug, every touch, every kind word.  He cried generously and often.  It hadn’t occurred to me that of course he would want to make this a perfect day for her, which he absolutely did.

My Aunt Kelly  (we recycle names a lot in my family) put together a collection of photos of Nana that was displayed at the service.  I had not seen the majority of these photos.  I only knew my grandmother as just that….my grandmother.  I had no idea that she used to be young and gorgeous, carefree and vivacious.  She was Charlene Jennings, young bride and mother.  I didn’t know that my grandparents had had so much fun together.

After the service, back at my Papa’s house, I was talking to him about how beautiful she was, and how I just had never known.  He nodded and teared up and whispered, “Yeah, she was beautiful.  I have a picture of her in my medicine cabinet, that I see every morning.  She borrowed your mother’s bikini one day [fortysomething years ago] and tried it on and I took a picture.  She was beautiful.”  Of course I wasted no time sneaking into his bathroom to see my grandmother’s pin-up.  He was right; she was very beautiful.  She had a thousand-watt smile, and she looked good in a bikini.  But what was so touching was not the picture as much as the fact that he still saw her that way. That was the woman he fell in love with; that was the woman he still loved.  What I saw in him yesterday, more than sadness, more than anything else, was pride.  He was so proud to have had her as his wife.  He was so proud to show her off, one last time.