The Week After Christmas

It's become one of my favorite times of year - the week after Christmas. The craze of the holidays has died down, and it feels as though countless days remain before school begins again.

There's this luscious, lazy cadence to the hours. We do laundry and play with new toys, watch movies and listen to Christmas music. My car sits out front, cold and unused. Mister's backpack hasn't moved since he threw it in the corner on the last day of school. I live in yoga pants and hoodies, and I haven't rushed to do anything since Christmas Eve. It's divine.

It's also a recharge period. To kick back and relax. To think about the year ahead. To slough off the trappings of Christmas and find peace in the stillness and solitude of deep winter.

And so, tonight, I find myself with a baby who can't sleep. My littlest one has a runny nose and I don't think he's feeling his best. He needs me to rock him for a little while, and I am more than happy to oblige. I am more than happy to snuggle with him in the rocking chair, our bodies wrapped in a blanket, and the bite of frost at the window. This is exactly what the week after Christmas is all about, and I have loved every minute.

Mac, having finally fallen asleep.

Perfect

Everyone has their favorite season. The Russian loves summer. Mister loves winter. Me? I love 'em all. Seriously. There's not a single time of year that I dislike, not as a whole, anyway. But, I will admit that Autumn and early winter make me smile more than, say, March. (March does kind of suck).

I love it all - the start of school, changing leaves, ghosties and ghoulies, apple cider, jack-o-lanterns, craft fairs, roasted turkey, family gatherings, freshly baked cookies and pies, holiday crafts, decked halls, gift wrapping, eggnog, carols, and candles in windows. Those days and moments warm my heart, and they make me strive to go the extra mile - to create the memories that will fill the minds of my children for years to come.

Of course that's what we all want, but what do we usually get? Life. Sh*t happens, as they say, even during the holidays. And the expectation of the perfect costume, the perfect party, the perfect dinner, the perfect anything is mind-numbing. And it's so not my style. Who wants perfect, anyway? Perfect makes for a boring story, trust me:

• Their costumes may be adorable, but that won't negate the fact that your children are mentally scarred. This unfortunate turn of events is due, in part, to your unwise assumption that elementary school haunted houses are cutsie and G-rated. As it turns out, they are not. Clarification: they could scare the crap out of convicts. But, while you're shaking in your boots and pondering the downfall of society, the kids like it. Go figure.
• The tree looks great - beautifully trimmed and lit, even if it is crazy-crooked (and God help the person that mentions that fact).
• In high spirits, you head out with your kiddos to brave the holiday shopping scene. Instead, you get a flat tire while merging onto the freeway. Tears, tow trucks, and hundreds of dollars later, you sit on your couch and buy gifts online. And even after the day from hell, it still feels good to find a deal.
• Your children look like angels, and they're so ready to see Santa. You stand in line for a half hour, only to discover that you're in the sign-up line. Which is then followed by an estimated two-hour wait. So, of course, you ditch out (screaming angels in tow), and order pizza. Because pizza fixes everything.

Now, that's more like it. The good and the bad, they go together like eggnog and bourbon (which, BTW, makes those bad moments a little more festive). So, I'd love to share some of our better moments this holiday season, and you can know with absolute certainty that not a single one of them was perfect!

On the heels of a horrid, sickly week,
we found a day to throw rocks and gather leaves.

The katsura tree at my parents' house. Amazing.

Zoo Lights. REALLY expensive,even with a membership.
Magical? Yes. But I'm still bitter about the cost.

Christmas Day cure for the overstimulated child?
A walk before dinner.

Christmas Day cure for the overstimulated adult?
Sauced eggnog - never fails.

The More the Merrier

Anyone with children has heard of the Elf On the Shelf. Personally, I thought the whole idea was creepy until last year. That's when my mom bought a couple of handmade elves from a woman at her church. All Nordic-looking, and detailed with tiny stitches and adorable braids and beards, I fell in love with them. My mom took notes, and a year later, we now house a veritable troupe of Christmas elves.

The odds are looking good for Axel and Hans.

It's been fun, having this large group of tiny, elvish creatures join our family for a month. But honestly, the creepy feeling has returned. Just a little. Okay, more than a little.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that the kids keep moving them throughout the day, and I'll find them staring at me from the inside of a cupboard. Or lounging on a pillow in our bedroom. Or straddling the faucet in the bathroom. They get around, these guys. And, when they do return to their traditional roost, the tree looks more like an overbooked, Norwegian ski chalet than a nordman fir.

All that aside, I still love them. And let's get real here - blaming the crazy-level of our home life on six felt Christmas elves is certainly a case of the pot calling the kettle black. We lead a raucous life as it is, and guess what? That's the way we like it. So, the more elves, the merrier, I say. All I ask is that they stay the hell out of my underwear drawer.

The Sweet Spot and Much More

I almost named this blog Dappled Grey. Not after the horse, though I do think they're lovely. Nope, I was thinking of this place I call home. The great Pacific Northwest.

Sure, it's a little wet for eight or nine months of the year. Yes, we all own clunky, rubber-soled shoes and/or boots and super high-tech rain coats. And, it's likely that our obsession with coffee (and microbreweries) is rooted in the fact that we're all just trying to keep warm around here. But, believe me when I tell you that this is also one of those magical places in the world. You know the kind - jagged mountains, craggy islands, deep forests, countless waterways, rolling farm land, amazing cities. Not too shabby.

Despite the rumors, we have some brilliantly sunny days, but we also have a lot of grey ones, too. When the clouds come, rolling in from the Pacific and settling down snug and low between our two mountain ranges, each minute of the day has its own greyish tone. My three favorites? The periwinkle haze at dusk, the soft, blueish-grey of the sea blending into the sky, and the dappled grey of a day overwrought with indecision, the sun burning holes where it can.

In the end, it came down to the fact that Dappled Grey was already taken, and I wanted to talk about much more than this sweet spot my relatives settled in eons ago. Family, writing, mom-fail moments, adventures, mundane happenings...never having been too organized of a person, we'll have to see where things go!