I was pretty sure I had done a good job this year balancing the two; making sure that the boys took part in the gift selection for family members, emphasizing the importance of buying local and putting thought into gifts, making lots of homemade treats and delivering them to neighbors, friends, and local good Samaritans, and making the boys earn money to purchase gifts for each other. In addition, I had us test our own beliefs of goodwill and love by spending time baking and delivering goodies to the local Occupiers. After hearing this group of people called lazy and useless, I decided to take the boys to go meet them and decide if that were the case after talking with them. It was an amazing experience and lesson in tolerance, rationality, and stereotypes. I was so very proud of how much both the boys took away from the experience,  which resulted in a repeat trip to deliver more goodies, high-fives, and loads of smiles.

We were doing pretty good until this morning, upon waking up with the excitement and magic of Christmas in the air, I was horrified to see my two sons, ages ten and seven, comparing the gifts they ripped open, questioning how much money was spent, and counting up the dollars in cash and gift cards accumulated like it was some contest. I was, quite frankly, disgusted by the display which represented values I don’t want for my children, and grateful that few were present to witness it.

Later in the day I was not as fortunate to avoid the public display of greediness when my youngest son announced to a large group of family that, despite receiving more toys than he can even fit in his room, he didn’t receive the one thing he really wanted; a particular video game. I found myself on the defensive, citing all the video games he already has both at our home and at his grandparent’s. In addition to the obscene number of games they have for their two gaming systems, I reminded him of his iPod Touch and his brother’s iPhone, both loaded with game Apps…did I mention they are ten and seven?! To have a room full of brand new toys and games, two video game systems, AND trendy smart phones to boot at their age and not feel satisfied? Two incidents in one day of selfish behavior and I could no longer place my disappointment in them. They weren’t the ones who allowed the accumulation of so many possessions at the expense of their sense of gratitude and selflessness. No, that blame belongs to the parents, and as I am the only one, I accept full responsibility and shame.

On the drive home from the aforementioned gathering, ready to wind down for bed, I asked the boys to tell me what they thought about this Christmas. The quiet pause in the backseat was uncharacteristically long and thick with disappointment and sadness, and seemed to spark the frustration inside me that had subsided over the previous two incidents from the day. That spark was quickly and completely extinguished with the reply that it was only OK, because this Christmas was the first Christmas, which their father, who passed away last April, not only wasn’t with them, but couldn’t be…couldn’t talk to them, write them a letter, talk to them on the phone. The stuff that could be wrapped and placed under a tree or slipped in a stocking immediately had zero significance to any of us.

Immediately switching into crisis/nurturing mode, I had them get in cozies and devised a plan to focus on the positive. I grabbed a fresh Composition book and declared it our Happy Memory Christmas Book. Our new Christmas tradition would be to write at the end of every Christmas Day the experience that was most special to us this year. Then we would pack the book away and do the same thing while being able to read previous memories. I started the first entry, citing the funny outburst of Shawn’s during Christmas Eve mass this year and the drive up Horse Mountain with grandpa. As the boys wrote their entries, the smiles on their faces piqued my curiosity. Wrestling with their cousin? Opening presents? Playing their new games or building their new Lego sets? Getting all the pumpkin pie and cheesecake their little bellies could take? Anxious to remove their minds from negative thoughts of loss and sadness, I told myself not to express any signs of disappointment if the words those little hands scribbled told of cash or gift cards.

But no…

No, these entries were not preceded by values lessons or lectures.  Yes, I may have misted up a bit.

The knowledge that they truly value the time and love we share together was the greatest gift they could possibly ever give me.  I am truly, truly blessed this Christmas.  When lost, lonely, sad, or disappointed, if the focus is changed, perhaps find a new tradition as Will, Shawn, and I did tonight, and joy, peace, and happiness will find you too.

Merry Christmas!!

Some of the truths my boys have helped me realize:

the most truthful sounds from our mouths aren’t promises but laughter,

the most powerful way to touch another person’s heart is to touch them with a sincere squeeze of the hand, a hug, or a kiss,

everyone will let us down or hurt us at some point, but there are people that are worth that pain,

those who love you can recognize your hurt before you say a word,

often people put up emotional walls to find out who cares enough to knock them down,

and above all, the greatest joys are always found in the simplest things.

Wishing everyone a happy fall filled with teaching and learning, and above all, love.

“My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard.  Mother would come out and say, ‘You’re tearing up the grass,’ ‘We’re not raising grass,’Dad would reply. ‘We’re raising boys’.    -Harmon Killebrew

With Father’s Day around the corner, I have been thinking a lot about the role fathers play in the lives of their children. We don’t need to refer to the countless studies that indicate children are better off with fathers providing guidance and love.  The difference a positive male role model makes is obvious, but can’t always be a biological father for one reason or another.  These men who step up and fulfill a need that sometimes even biological parents fail to do deserve just as much to be honored on Father’s Day.  My own two sons are blessed with many positive role models that are not their biological fathers, and I especially appreciate these men, men who provide them guidance and love in the way that a father does, men who have the kind of relationship with my sons that I can’t ever have, no matter how hard I try.  Two of these such men are my own father and grandfather.  They take my sons into the mountains and are teaching them to cut firewood.  They are teaching them how to be ‘tough’.  How baseball and football are played.  How to shoot a gun.  Much more than I am capable of sharing alone.

Recognizing the importance of these men, I decided I wanted to have photographs of them together to formally acknowledge the importance of their relationship, and serve as a reminder for my boys as they grow:

I also have been thinking about the men who are in the same role as I am, trying to be both mother and father to their children.  Does our society, which readily labels men ‘deadbeats’ provide acknowledgement for these men that defy that stereotype?  I don’t know, but I decided this year to take a little time and do so myself in the one way I can, with a few pictures.  First my longtime friend Andy, who has been a kick-butt father to his two young children, Ivie and Hunter.  Then my friend Curt, who is likewise a kick-butt father to his son Bradley.  These are the kinds of dads that men should try to be.

A big thank you to all the men out there who step up to the role of being a father, a daddy, a friend.  We all love you!

It brings me joy to watch them learn

It brings me joy to watch them focused and hard at work

It brings me joy to see them laugh

It even brings me joy to see them get a little hurt…when it’s not too bad.  Battle wounds = bragging rights!

Here are the boys showing off their new dogs:

I was a little sneaky with this first day.  I explained that we would be making cookies for our neighbors as gifts that we would go around and pass out together.  This isn’t a new adventure for us, it used to be something we would do frequently.  But nevertheless, they were very much excited since it had been so long.

Things started out as they normally would, the boys happily taking turns cutting out the sugar cookies.  They were so involved in what they were doing, they didn’t see me grab the fistful of flour.  By the time they realized where it was coming from, the two of them were covered in it.  Then it was on.  Their grandpa, hearing the screams of laughter came out to investigate.  ’She started it!’ was the instant cry from the boys as they saw the horrified look on his face.

Judging by the big smiles and heartfelt hugs and kisses I got tonight after our first ever food fight, this plan may just be a success.

It started out innocent enough:

Unfortunately I didn’t get too many of the actual fight…I value my camera too much, and had to defend myself, but here is one I managed to get when the boys took about two seconds to turn on each other:

But she started it!!!

Another ‘first’ for the boys tonight.  They each got to take a turn using mommy’s camera to take a picture.  Will took this one of Shawn and I, and I am impressed!  He composed this one on his own, and I didn’t have to crop it at all!  Way to go Will!!

And here is the one that Shawn took.  I may have two future photographers on my hands!

But tonight at Thanksgiving dinner, I was reminded that while I changed, the place I came from is still exactly the same, and while I have been trying to change that reality, it isn’t all bad. While not perfect, it is still the place that nurtured me as a child and created the strong, independent woman that I am.  There is a comfort in that knowledge and the familiarity of all the people and things I saw, felt, smelled, and tasted tonight.  It was truly rejuvenating.  The realization of how good it felt to be in such comforting, familiar surroundings made me realize that perhaps I have been looking at my stay in my hometown the wrong way.  I used to see it as merely an undesirable but necessary stepping stone to get back to my old life exactly as it was before, only in a more fulfilling career, but I am starting to think that there is more to it.   I am a strong believer that everything happens for a reason, and maybe another reason I need to be here is to strengthen my roots. Right here in this little town are the people who nurtured and sustained me as a child.  They loved me and continue to love me.  The surroundings and things here have a familiar comfort that warms me inside, and perhaps that can give me the strength to do even more than ever before.  By nurturing my roots, maybe I can reach higher, be stronger.

Regardless of our relationship with our past, is it possible to move and grow without acknowledging that it did in fact form us into whom we are, and that there is something to be thankful for in that? This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my longtime friends and family that remind me of my roots, the familiar traditions and food that make me feel at home, the ability to allow my children to experience the holidays exactly as I did as a child, and my love for photography, which as been a gift that allows me to see the beauty and connections in these magical moments.  It all nourishes my soul, my roots, gives me strength that has helped me through this tough year, without which I would truly be lost.  And here it is:

My grandma, an AMAZING cook and all around rock-star hostess.  I love when she gets frustrated and starts speaking Swedish.  One of my favorite sounds of the holidays.

My grandpa helping in the kitchen.  He has two jobs, carving the turkey and keeping the champagne glasses full.  That’s the way it’s been as long as I can remember.

Another tradition is that the wine flows so freely before dinner that the adults are usually not in a hurry to eat.  The kids on the other hand…

The good feeling of working together to make a moment special:

And of course there is the love between generations!

My boys and I, our first Thanksgiving together in Eureka: