20 December 2012
More importantly than Santa, we've been talking a lot about Jesus' upcoming birthday. I think I made it a little too confusing at first, as Georgiana was under the impression that Jesus would be showing up physically to blow out candles Christmas morning. Simple honest questions, like where is Jesus? are common occurrences in our house, and the most simple ones are usually the ones that make me think the most.
December has been a wonderful month in prep for the 25th, but it has been a far cry from what I pictured. Monday, Kelly wrapped up working 11 days straight. Complete with early mornings and late nights. He had two days off and then this morning he went in for knee surgery. Tired pretty much sums up the Smith household. Tired and thankful. Thankful for modern medicine, healthy babies, Christmas cards, Jesus' birthday, sleep when it comes, baked goodies, online shopping, and the relief that comes when I reside that I am okay with Christmas (and my house) not being 'perfect.' Not this year amidst the craziness that is our life, and not any year regardless of the amount of time and sleep I have. I literally pray that we will enjoy Christmas as a family, that we will truly be celebrating the birth of our Saviour!! I love the decorations, songs, festivities, food, presents, I love making Christmas a big deal because it is a big deal, huge, the biggest!
And, remembering that it is a big deal keeps me motivated to wrap until the wee hours of the night, and remembering that Jesus is the big deal lets me be okay with baking disasters and things not being as I mentioned, 'perfect.' It's pretty amazing how focusing on Christ makes Christmas both a day to anticipate, prepare, celebrate, go crazy for, and also a day to (TRY) not to stress over. Once again, simple and complicated.
Oh, and the baking disaster...
Stay up late to make Turtle Bark. Burn the chocolate on two batches.
Attempt to make Macaroons, baked with Georgiana, so fun and lots of work :) Wondered why the egg whites smelled funny... wasn't the egg whites, was the rancid vanilla that expired September 2011!!! There went 12 eggs, literally down the drain. Contemplated (for an embarrassing length of time) passing them out anyway, they were so beautiful, perfect texture shape color. Don't worry I tossed them. Returned to store (thank you Kelly and Georgiana) for more real vanilla. Drank a Starbucks caramel apple cider (yes, I am a stress eater/drinker (thankfully drinker as in non-alcoholic beverages)). Attempted macaroons again. Followed recipe to a 't,' used fresh ingredients. Cookies came out almost flattened looking, dry and not appetizing looking. Ahhh... oh well.
I am still craving my third cookie I wanted to bake, double chocolate chip cookies dipped in white chocolate and sprinkled with crushed candy canes. Yep, I'm thinking that is not going to happen this year. It's okay.
And, boy am I thankful I didn't go for the gingerbread. It's just not going to happen this year, and I think that the show will still go on, and everything will be totally okay.
Random but cute, we were singing a song about "Jesus Christ" the other day and Georgie was very concerned why Jesus was crying? Not crying sweet girl, Christ.
On another note, I usually do not write about my Papa, and how my whole family misses him. A deep suffocating type of miss him. But, I feel like that is so much apart of my life right now that if I leave it out, it just seems like I am glossing over life. Not that I think every single thing needs to be shared on the blog world, but as much as it will hurt when I re read posts like this down the road, I think it would hurt more if I just completely left our journey of grief off the blog. I am sure a psychologist or two would have some words for me, Georgiana has reverted to talking about Papa in the present tense, and I don't have the heart or desire to correct her. One sentence she will say "Papa is..." and the next she is praying (as if out of the blue), "please God, let Papa not be gone anymore..."
I don't coach her to talk or think a certain way, I just let her talk, and I am always shocked at how much my little Peanut is thinking and processing things.
There's a lot more, a lot, but basically I just feel like my family and I are walking around with ginormous wounds, with just band aids on them. The band aids pop off, we gush, and then we put them back on. Over time I think the band aids will come off less frequently, history has taught me that much, but around the holidays those band aids are quite slippery. In my mind that analogy is so clear, but I am not articulating my thoughts very well, probably because they are jumbled and I want to be sensitive to others who are reading this. I don't want to assume grief is the same for everyone else, as I know everyone processes things differently. It's hard watching those you love hurt. It's hard to hurt. And, even when I know in my heart and my mind, in the depths of my soul, that I will see my Papa again, it still hurts. I think that is part of being human.
I want to record how Georgiana says "Papa" she really draws out the a's and it melts me because I have so many memories of her saying his name to him.
My two little ones and my patient (Kelly) are sleeping and recovering. I bunked Georgiana with Kelly because she was having a tiny bit of a rough time with Daddy not feeling well, she told Kelly, "I'll sit here (next to him in bed) in case you need anything Daddy." We explained she could just rest her head and go to sleep, and as I turned out the light she said "I'll take care of you daddy." I teared up.
Levi is sleeping and swaddled in his crib and I am going to retire to Georgiana's (thankfully comfy) twin bed. It is astonishing how much room she can take up in mommy and daddy's bed. I will hopefully get some rest as I listen to all three of them on the monitors.
Before I go to bed I am going to stare at those pictures at the top of this post, and remember how in the midst of this busy busy emotional month, I am spoiled with blessings.
In all things give thanks. Simple and, you guessed it, complicated.