We’ve completely caved. Stick on earrings, nail polish, glamour shades and a princess crown.
We can’t even pretend to be trying to avoid girly stuff this year – we went all in.
Christmas is a time to celebrate a lot of things. Family, friends, good health…embracing old traditions, incorporating new ones…reflecting on the year past and looking forward to the next.
And a pinch of indulgence can’t hurt – especially for a four year old.
Last night these little hands pulled crisp carrots from the frozen ground.
We harvested a total of 5, and they were gone within minutes of being rinsed.
They were extra sweet.
The frosty weather spurs carrots to convert their stored starches into sugars, to protect their cells from the freezing temperatures.
The silver lining of winter, so to speak.
Viv: “Mom, elephants are from Africa.”
Me: “Yep!”
Viv: “You know what they call the people that bring them from Africa to America? Snugglers!”
These days, we spend a lot of time in our playroom. A lot of time doing art. A lot of time playing make believe.
The light in our playroom is some of the best in our house – so it’s a treat to spend lazy Sunday’s lounging here.
It is a transitional room – it used to be our dining room, right off the kitchen. But with small kids around it begged to be reimagined. A seperate space to congregate toys, books, art supplies.
It’s also the perfect spot for a visiting canine to nap in the sun.
Or for the 1-year-old-in-residence to “read” a book.
This room won’t always be a play room – at times I find myself anticipating the day that we can reclaim it as an adult space. Perhaps with leather club chairs, bookshelves, and a game table for poker and 1000 piece puzzles.
Yet in the same instant, I feel the panic of time slipping past. I know with utmost certainty that the moment I sink into that future leather club chair, I will mourn the playroom that it had been, and everything it signified: The messy, chaotic, perfectly imperfect years of raising our babies.
I remember arriving for Thanksgiving at my aunt and uncle’s house as a child. The tables were set with family china and an assortment of silver. Nothing matched – there were too many people joining to use only one set – but everything was special.
Did I know how much that meant to me at the time? These special details? Did I appreciate it? Not instantly – I just knew I looked forward to seeing my cousins. Playing Spoons on the living room rug, all generations at once. Eating shrimp cocktail from my grandparents, artichoke dip from my second cousins, creamed onions from my uncle, cornbread pudding from my aunt.
Did I know how much thought, and care went into the planning and execution of such a big event? Not when I was 8, or 10, or 12. Not consciously at least.
But I felt it. The love of family, the tradition of coming together, from near and far, every year. Watching time pass in slow motion.
And these tables, these beautifully set tables, pulled us in, set the mood, gave us a physical place to come together. To talk, to laugh, to tell stories heard again and again, gaining meaning with each additional telling. They gave us a place to linger, and we did.
As I set the table this year, taking time to polish each fork, lay out each plate and glass, iron the napkins and place the candles, I think back on these memories and hope to create a space for family and friends to linger. Our lives are busy, for better or worse, and Thanksgiving is a day to remember to slow down, be thankful, reflect. These special details help jolt us out of our every day routine, and are a reminder to do just that.
plainly mundane 