It's That Time of Year

A lot of people (including myself, sometimes), lament the seasonal rushing that comes this time of year. Early in the fall, or even late summer, just as we're trying to drag on those last days of languorous sunlight, jack o' lanterns and witches and ghosts begin to appear on store shelves along with massive backs of orange and black candies. It's hard to believe there will be a time for such things when it's still warm enough to swim and you can't quite tell when to bring the cooler weather clothes down from the attic. But just as soon, just as mysteriously, those witches and ghosts disappear from the shelves (even before their counterparts have had a chance to walk the streets with ghoulish delight) and are replaced with shiny gold and red baubles, green tinsel, and images of the jolliest of men. The leaves are still falling from the trees, pumpkins still line steps, and nary a turkey has graced the table, but be damned if you do not immediately start thinking of snow and humming "Jingle Bells."

I am of two minds this time of year. First there is the thought, What on earth is the rush? If we spend two months celebrating the coming of Jesus, Santa and his elves, peace on earth and goodwill toward men, and the Elf on the Shelf, then by December 25th, aren't we going to be thoroughly sick of it all? I do believe there is an Elmo Christmas special from way back that makes this almost exact point: Elmo wishes it could be Christmas every day and, through the magic of a Muppet reindeer, is able to make that wish come true. As it turns out, spending an extended amount of time celebrating Christmas drains everyone of the excitement of the season, making it as thoroughly unspecial as a Tuesday in March. 

I say all this, and I am sure many who read this will agree with my sentiments, but as I type I can just see the cover of Truth in the Tinsel PDF hiding behind this open window on my computer screen. I have already checked Amazon and Etsy to track my orders of Christmas gifts twice this morning. And I have (I say this with a hung head) already played Christmas music (Granted! My mom and I are currently writing a children's Christmas story - more on that another time - and playing a little bit of Bing Crosby gets the creative juices flowing). As much as I want to put the breaks on all things Christmas, I can't help but feel a tiny bit of glee in the bottom of my stomach as I spot Christmas stockings for sale in local stores.

With Halloween coming at the end of this week, I'm finding myself feeling slightly bereft of sprightly Halloweeny spirit. I'm afraid my hankering for red and green lights and Christmas tunes has gotten in the way of enjoying the other two holidays that come before that most wonderful time of the year. I don't want it to be like that! I want to be excited to don my spider web earring and take E. and M. trick or treating. I want to sit down and feel thoroughly enchanted by Sparkle Stories sweet and only slightly spooky stories (we just listened to the Switch Witch this weekend and loved it). I want to think beyond all the wonderful handfuls of candy I know I'm going to eat Friday night (especially if the Switch Witch does make an appearance at our house...she may have to, depending on how much my husband and I eat).

The question I end up asking myself is how in sync do I want to be with the rhythm of the seasons and with my family? Thankfully, my littles are still thoroughly engrossed with what's just ahead of them that real thoughts about Christmas haven't entered their heads. I want to be where they are, excited about what's just ahead and instead of spending all my time looking just down the road. I do that naturally, it's in my temperament (and makes me completely Pisces), but with small children, when everything moves so damn fast to begin with, it does me little good to stretch my neck out and stare down the road ahead of me in this part of my life. So, I'm taking a step back from Christmas and asking myself the same question I have silently asked others - What *is* the rush?

Waving the Checkered Flag

I don't suppose the word "busy" sufficiently describes my life right now. It's something like driving a race car (or, at least that's how I imagine it to be, having never actually driven a race car before). We're going terribly fast, with lots to look out for, but somehow, we're going about it all quite smoothly - and keeping our fingers crossed we don't crash.

The last few weeks have finally given themselves over to something resembling a rhythm. I didn't quite realize we were in the midst of it until sometime early last week as I was doing the dishes that were sitting in my sink after breakfast. M. was playing over by the big double doors as he's wont to do, E. had only recently been dropped off at school, and I felt peaceful. And I was doing the dishes...by hand!

I hate doing dishes and usually avoid it at all costs, yet here I was with the hot water pouring over my hands and scrubbed a bit of breakfast off a plate. I was relaxed in a way I hadn't been in months. And while things certainly aren't perfect - we have a few things on the horizon that need a bit of tackling and untangling - everything feels good.

Popping in with Half a Thought

Did you know being a mom is exhausting? It is so, so tiring?! Where are these bloggy ladies getting all this time to write beautiful blog posts and take perfectly composed pictures and make all this delicious stuff? (It should be noted that I take a lot of time late at night reading other really awesome blogs.) Clearly their priorities are different than mine. (I watched two hours' worth of Scandal today.) Or maybe their sweet babies have regular (read: "normal") eating habits and, actually, I don't know...sleep. (I nursed M. for about two hours' worth of those Scandal episodes today. He slept for maybe half of one.)

While I've been trying to find a rhythm that fits nicely with our family, I've been trying to carve out time for me to write within that rhythm. It's part of that whole idea that Mama needs something for herself on top of everything else she does.

But, damn, I do a whole lot.

The Last of the Bounty

The last week has been a bit of an up and down, weather wise. Monday, when I brought E. to school, I had M. in a fleece hat and and snuggled in the carrier. Today? Baby and I sweat it out in the dance studio - and we weren't the ones dancing!

Rhythmically, this week has been a lot like the weather. We've had our pretty incredible share of car issues, I started my new job, E. started ballet and tap lessons, the mister was home an extra day, we're getting ready to go away for the weekend, and E. is still adjusting to going to school. I'm exhausted just thinking about all if it and whatever footing we gained last week completely went out the window.

But today we tried to bring back some of that soothing quiet back into our lives. Between nasty rain and thunder storms, M. and I got outside and picked what little was left of our blackberries.

At this point in the year, they're really not that tasty. The berries are a bit shrivelled and more bitter than sweet. Gone are those addictive bursts of juicy-sweet tartness. But now it's not so much about the berries themselves, but the act of harvesting - the soothing rocking back and forth with the occasional pause to kiss a baby's head.

The blackberries are just about gone (though I have loads waiting in the freezer for a Michaelmas feast), the leaves are just starting to let the color start at their tips, and I can imagine that after this week is done, the humid days of 90 degree weather are, for the most part (I hope!!) behind us. The last of the summer bounty, for my home at least, has come in, and I can feel that desperate need to slow down so our bones can settle in for the winter