The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Linger
It’s Christmas morning aftermath at our home. Scraps of wrapping paper thrown about. Dry nettles. Bits of ribbon and white tissue paper crunching under our socked feet. It’s a general mess, as it’s supposed to be.
Bing Crosby’s crooning a holiday hit on the stereo and the kids are milling about enjoying new toys. Brett’s off hunting for more batteries.
I pour my third cup of well-deserved strong coffee having stayed up till the wee hours helping Santa interspersed with my quarterly check-ins reminding our eight-year old to go to sleep.
“She wants to stay up for Santa,” I whispered worriedly at 12:45 a.m. to her Dad. He smiled back. “Of course she does. She’s a kid.” Duh. It’s Christmas after all.
By noon we bundle in warm jackets to walk the dog to the local park. The sky is gloriously clear, the air crisp. A winter sun beams down.
We pass a neighbor who has similar-aged children. Their tree is spread across their curb. Already?
“It was getting brittle,” its owner explains on his way back to the house. So is ours but it’s Christmas day! I imagine the ornaments wrapped in labeled boxes and counters cleared of festive decoration, while their children watch nearby.
What’s a few more brittle nettles?
The year’s full of schedules and rules. The build-up to Christmas can be a marathon all of its own. But on Christmas day we linger. We linger in all of its decadent, unstructured glory. Lounging about reading new books and exploring new games. Watching the “Rudolph” DVD with our two-year old for the hundredth time.
The alarm clock will soon wake us again and once again demands will mount. But for now we linger.
We return from our walk and retreat back into the afterglow that is our reminder of a joyful Christmas amid the wrapping paper scraps and empty boxes. And we linger.
By Maija Threlkeld
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Bing Crosby’s crooning a holiday hit on the stereo and the kids are milling about enjoying new toys. Brett’s off hunting for more batteries.
I pour my third cup of well-deserved strong coffee having stayed up till the wee hours helping Santa interspersed with my quarterly check-ins reminding our eight-year old to go to sleep.
“She wants to stay up for Santa,” I whispered worriedly at 12:45 a.m. to her Dad. He smiled back. “Of course she does. She’s a kid.” Duh. It’s Christmas after all.
By noon we bundle in warm jackets to walk the dog to the local park. The sky is gloriously clear, the air crisp. A winter sun beams down.
We pass a neighbor who has similar-aged children. Their tree is spread across their curb. Already?
“It was getting brittle,” its owner explains on his way back to the house. So is ours but it’s Christmas day! I imagine the ornaments wrapped in labeled boxes and counters cleared of festive decoration, while their children watch nearby.
What’s a few more brittle nettles?
The year’s full of schedules and rules. The build-up to Christmas can be a marathon all of its own. But on Christmas day we linger. We linger in all of its decadent, unstructured glory. Lounging about reading new books and exploring new games. Watching the “Rudolph” DVD with our two-year old for the hundredth time.
The alarm clock will soon wake us again and once again demands will mount. But for now we linger.
We return from our walk and retreat back into the afterglow that is our reminder of a joyful Christmas amid the wrapping paper scraps and empty boxes. And we linger.
By Maija Threlkeld
Labels: Maija Threlkeld
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