I don’t drink coffee or tea. So I don’t have much need for the ubiquitous Starbucks experience. I go maybe once a year to be social and have a pastry.
It was insanely cold this week. I know, no one cares about Yuma cold, but it felt freezing nonetheless. So I was the nice mom and took the boys to get hot chocolate at the Starbucks after school Monday.
Here’s my question: how can anyone afford to buy this crap everyday? It was so expensive and I got the smallest size and only two of them. Holy cow.
Also, I feel like an idiot at Starbucks. So many choices, so many words that aren’t in my language. It is like a trip over the border.
I think there must be crack in everything they sell to keep ya’ll coming back. If I start drinking Starbucks coffee I’ll be broke within six months. I know that Diet Coke is ruining my bones, but at least it only costs 79 cents for a giant drink. So I’ll be able to use my pennies to buy a nicer coffin.
Fabulous song. Nice juxtaposition too. Watch. Share. Take over the universe. You’re welcome.
Sandra Boynton books have saved my life as a mom more times than I can count. Pajama Time isn’t classic literature, but any time you can ‘pajama to the left, pajama to the right, jamma jamma jamma jamma p j’ then life is pretty good.
Owen’s preschool had a service project collecting pajamas for the Safe House family shelter. Scholastic donates a book for every pair, so a child gets a cozy evening with jammies and something to read. We’re always on the look out for a project that can have relevance to the kids. As I explained the concept of the Safe House, Cole kept reminding me that there can be bad moms too, not just bad dads. This is true, I told him, but often dads are the ones who are so mean that a mom will need to take her kids somewhere else. In Cole’s universe, this makes no sense: if anyone is going to be a bad guy who gets angry, it would be the mom. Finally we agreed to let the issue go.
My deal was that if Cole and Owen spent their money buying one set of pajamas, I would buy 10 sets. I figured that was equally uncomfortable financially for each of us. So we did it. You may notice that there are only 9 sets in this picture. I briefly lost some very cute Baby Gap footies but they were under some magazines. Which brings us to ten. Because I forgot that I said I would do ten and just did a total of ten. If the kids bring it up I will fix it. Otherwise I’ve bought enough nightwear for a while.
We took our giant bag over to school yesterday and all felt pretty satisfied about doing a good deed. I know my sister is sending a pair in our Christmas box to pass along too. If anyone else is so inclined, we’d love you to participate with us. We have till December 18.
I don’t like Christmas. This is not Mr. Caufield’s fault per se, but his dislike of phoniness is a big part of why the holiday makes me crazy.
Sometimes I say that I hate Christmas. That would be an exaggeration. I love Christmas music (Wintersong by Sarah McLachlan is the best album ever), I enjoy baked goods and people being nice.
When it comes down to it, I’ve figured out the three things that make me feel Grinchy.
1. Christmas is a winter holiday. I hate to be cold. I don’t like feeling cold or doing cold weather things. I don’t like hot chocolate. I like fires but so do pagans. It is virtually impossible for me to feel festive in the darkest time of the year.
2. Christmas presents. This is weird because I adore giving gifts. I wish it could be my job. But when I receive a gift from someone that isn’t just right, it makes me feel sad. Alone. Like the giver doesn’t know me at all. And how depressing is that? You sit around the tree and open something and think, wow, the people I thought knew and loved me really have no clue about what I like, I really am a loser with no one who understands me. This may sound slightly dramatic but it is how I feel.
3. Christmas as a religious holiday. I believe in Jesus. Celebrating his birth is a good idea. Like one of the best ideas. Kind of a big deal. Kind of not a reindeer thing. I don’t understand why Christians of any depth are not horrified about how we do Christmas. Seriously, if this is how you remember the coming to Earth of the Son of God, maybe it is more solemn. Still happy sure, but way less gaudy and tacky and BIG. I don’t know how best to explain it. The whole thing just seems weird.
Even though the above statements are true, I enjoy some of the traditions of Christmas because they are attached to fun memories. Christmas was very ritualized in my childhood home. I don’t do all the things, but I think of them fondly. My kids will have different memories. Not making them wierd, I hope, but it is definitely simpler and more about hanging out as a family and doing kindnesses for others. Which will segue nicely into tomorrow’s post.
Goodreads tells me that I have reached my goal of 100 books for calendar year 2013. This is more than usual. I have blogged previously about several fabulous reads earlier this year, so I won’t rehash.
Six books that I haven’t written about that I very much enjoyed:
The Visionist by Rachel Urquhart
The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion
The Dog Stars by Peter Heller
Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry by Rachel Joyce
Far From the Tree by Andrew Solomon
This last book deserves a whole giant post. One of the most interesting things I have ever read. EVER. I wish I could make people read it so that I could talk to you all about it. Full disclosure: 900 plus pages. But…keep reading here…the last 200 or so are notes and an annotated bibliography. So really we’re talking about 700 ish. The book is about families dealing with children who have differences, ranging from deafness to prodigies. So so interesting. So much to think about. Fascinating.
Going through my notes, I realized how many lovely books I have read this year. More just plain nice ones than I usually read. Fewer books about India. A few major disappointments, as happens in life. If you are looking for a specific recommendation in a genre or even weirdly narrow like “books about troubled immigrants and their return to their homeland” I can totally hook you up (that last category has a couple good ones in it).
He didn’t want to take piano lessons, but by week two Cole was hooked. He loves order and patterns so the math element of music seems perfect for him. He practices every day, sometimes twice, and is moving along nicely. Nice job little buddy!
I have been having pain in a few joints for the last couple years, nothing big but still noticeable. Namely my right big toe and my left thumb and forefinger. I’m pretty sure it is the start of arthritis.
But, in my weird sub brain, I’m pretty sure it is bone cancer in my toe.
“Eliana, that’s quite a leap, why would you think such a thing?”
Thanks for asking. When I worked at Vista Alternative High School for three years, I read countless reports about Bob Marley, icon of the stoner student. And do you know what did Mr. Marley in? He cut his toe and they discovered that he had cancer. And then he died shortly thereafter.
Which leads to the second part of this story.
Yesterday I got offered a job at Vista. I moved to Yuma to teach at that school. It is my favorite, though imperfect, place. This is the perfect job.
The problem is, over the past month I have felt very strongly that I should not get a full time job. This has been a weird feeling because I wasn’t looking for one or even praying if it would be a good move. I think of it as an Answer Before the Question. Because I almost started laughing yesterday when I had this job offer conversation. If I hadn’t had this feeling before, I would have said yes immediately. It would work out, I could make it happen with rides and kids and whatnot. But I didn’t, because I had this answer in the back of my mind.
So I’m thankful this December day for a Heavenly Father who has greater vision than I, even if it is confusing. And I’m trying to not be sad about passing up an opportunity that I would really like.