Holidays Traditions, Part I - New Year's Eve Fancy

Our family has a New Year's Eve tradition of going to a restaurant that is not called Noodles, Chipotle or Noodles or Chipotle. (Appropriately, this happens just once a year.) So today, our adventure took us a few blocks away via a wagon-ride in single digit weather.

Dinner was frantic. June's piercing voice seemed only more so due to our surroundings. Clara "supervised" John, who dropped plates, flirted with neighbors, and tried the entire meal to climb on the table. Will brought his new prized possession - a calligraphy pen - and played family secretary to record our resolutions. We didn't get very far.

I love New Year's Eve. I am very susceptible to cheap inspiration. I love new beginnings. I love making resolutions. I have many. I just haven't had the chance to flesh them out. In fact, that's one of my resolutions: live with clarity, and finish things!

But even without a neat list of goals, I can count many, many blessings with complete clarity as 2011 begins.

Spiral Garden

We seem to be juggling so many projects and plans this month, it is hard to focus and write. But to zero in on just one event, Clara's first grade class last week held a spiral garden in the courtyard outside her classroom that was pretty special.

As it got dark, the parents gathered around a spiral of lights, while the kids sang and one by one walked the spiral and brought a candle to the center. A few people got nervous when the kids flocked, or rather stormed, the table full of candles towards the end. I guess after chanting "Peace to You" for about 45 minutes, we forgot about the potential dangers of mixing first graders and fire. Still, it was beautiful and touching, and at least for me (with miraculously only one child in tow) it succeeded in carrying the message of Peace.

Consumption Part II: Coffee Shops

I must be honest. I take my kids to coffee shops. More thank I'd like to admit. Once a week, probably more. I am not proud. It seems so indulgent. So frivolous.

Some places have become rituals: the tea shop where we walk after June's gymnastics; the coffee store by the playground on days we bike to school; the coffee shop on Pearl St. on weekends.

Although I sometimes cringe at the feeling of spoiled kids when they pitch a fit over whipped cream or not enough zucchini bread crumbs, the kids' comfort there cracks me up. Here is just one picture to show it.

Consumption Part I: Toy Stores

The holidays are here, and my to do list is long. Along with millions of parents, I am consumed with thoughts of gift-giving -- for my children, their teachers, our families, our neighbors.

Ironic really, since the Christmas wish of 1/3 of my household is to have LESS stuff, not more. For one, it is his ONLY Christmas wish.

I'd like to spend more of our resources on experiences, rather than the consumption of things. But honestly, consumerism can feel like an experience in and of itself. Going to a toy store is just that. There's really no need to bring anything home.

Since I am currently in between cameras, I am relying on old pictures here, but many of them capture the thrill of the toy store, enough even to leave all the "stuff" there.

Holiday Parade

We attended a memorable holiday parade on Saturday. This particular year it was memorable not so much for the fire trucks, the Chinese dragon, the happy bikers and the cub scout groups as for Jeff's restaurant comedy routine. A free man, he stood behind us, on the other side of a glass window, and dined on ribs with a front row seat to view his candy-driven children. Here and there, Clara or June would run in and grab a bite before coming back out to see the guide dogs-in-training or the dancers. John couldn't decide. He cried with me wanting inside, then cried with Jeff wanting out. Mostly he stood wearing his party beads at the restaurant door.

It never works to have a picture-perfect idea of these events anyway - our family cuddled together in a neat row, holding hands, loving glances. So, instead, I'll take the funny: my husband kicking back, drinking a beer, enjoying the food and the family, from afar!

Thank You

Today, I told June thank you for helping me with something. Not to be one-upped, she thanked me for helping her by being her teacher. My mind flipped to potential elaborations, such as:

• Thank you for teaching me to say "like" 5 times in 1 sentence;
• Thank you for teaching me how to make a major mess;
• Thank you for teaching me how to get stressed out;
• Thank you for teaching me how to overcommit;
• Thank you for teaching me how to talk on the phone.

Instead, she said, "Like thank you for like teaching me like stuff like how the earth like goes around." I know she didn't mean it in any profound sense, but I allow myself such liberties. It's actually a decent summary of my motherly goal.