Christmas Cheer!

It's been raining in L.A. for days. Sean finished his finals last Thursday, and flew home on Monday for Christmas. I'm still in Los Angeles because I have to work through this coming Thursday. I have to confess that I was struggling with having a major pity party for myself about this week.

My husband gets to go home, and I have to stay here all alone and work four days in a row, and come home to an empty house infested with ants because of all the rain. And last year I got six weeks off for Christmas...Where's my Christmas break?????



These were some of the thoughts running through my head on Sunday evening as I prepared for work the next day, and Sean got ready to leave. I thought I was going to be miserable, but I temporarily forgot a couple things.

1. I forgot that it's pretty much hard for me to be miserable anywhere (except in Hollywood). Ever the optimist, I just LIKE enjoying myself, so I always try to have fun.

2. I forgot that the kids weren't going to be in school. This means that a ton of pressure is taken off both me and the kids, and better yet, it means that we get to relax and actually spend TIME together, which is wonderful because I love these kids!

And after only two days of working, I know that I wouldn't trade these days for anything in the world. There are special moments, hilarious situations, and inside jokes that make my whole 12 hour work day worth it in a split second. Like Monday morning, when Giuwels asked me if she had school that day. I told her no, and an enormous smile appeared on her face as she said...the good news slowly dawning on her..."That means we can PLAY!"

Yes, my dear, yes it does.

Giuwels has been so much more affectionate than usual, which is so sweet. She's always hugging me and wanting me to pick her up or hold her. Monday morning I told her that she needed to go get dressed for the day, and she said, "Ok, but first I want a hug!!!" and she wrapped her little arms around my neck and gave me the biggest hug ever.


Monday afternoon the four of us went to see Yogi Bear in 3-D...Haha, not my first choice of a movie, but hey, we got to get out of the house, walk around the festive mall, and relax in a movie theater for almost two hours. On the way to the mall, we were listening to Christmas music on the radio when Feliz Navidad came on...We listened for awhile, and then Vinny goes, "What the heck is he saying????" I told him that Feliz Navidad means Marry Christmas in Spanish, and he goes, "Ohhhh....I thought he was saying 'Release Naveda' like Naveda is a person who needs to be released." I'm not entirely sure why, but this sent all of us into gales of laughter--which only got louder when the next song "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town" came on the radio and Vinny said, "Santa Claus is coming to town to release Naveda!" So that's our big Christmas joke for this year, along with the fact that whenever one of us does something particularly clever we say, "You're smarter than the average bear!"

Another thing I find so precious is Giuwel's fear of flushing toilets. She hates the loud noise they make. Luckily, the toilets at their house are completely silent, so no problems there. But when we're out and about we can run into difficulties. Usually she goes to the bathroom then gets up, walks as far away as she can and covers her ears while I flush the toilet for her. Yesterday at the mall, Vinny and Giuwels both had to go to the bathroom. The nearest department store was Nordstroms so we ducked in there to use their restrooms. Giuwels and I walked into a handicap stall together, I'm just standing there, happy as a lark, waiting to help her with whatever she needs when she says in a serious tone, "It's an automatic." At first I didn't even know what she was talking about, and then I see that, yes, the toilet is one of those new-fangled gadgets that flush automatically. These are the worst kind because Giuwels has no control over when they flush, so they catch her off guard and scare her. This precious five year old toilet connoisseur looks at me and says, "I'll just go at home, Carolyn." And, bless her heart, that's what she did.

We spent today making sugar cookies. Lots and lots of sugar cookies. I told Giuwels' friend Georgia's mom the other day that I was looking forward to Christmas Break so I could make cookies and do other fun stuff with the kids. She was like, "Wow, I'm glad you think making cookies is fun, I think it's so stressful." I can understand that--if you try to keep everyone in order and have the kitchen stay clean and the cookies turn out perfectly, then yes, it will be stressful. For better or for worse, I expect the most chaotic events when cooking anything with children, so I'm generally not upset when flour flies everywhere, and six grubby hands land in the dough before I remind them to wash their hands. Yes, Michael and Vinny both had to shower after our baking experience, but why not? We had a blast, and the kids made some amazing cookies!

I'm looking forward to tomorrow and then Thursday, and Thursday night I'm catching a plane to the Bay! I cannot wait!

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!

Tonight after work I picked my husband up from Biola's graduation ceremony and I was HORRIFIED to discover that Sean wore his Dharma Initiative LOST T-shirt, his ratty old GYM SHORTS that he wears everywhere, gray socks and FLIP-FLOPS! I expressed my utter mortification over his fashion faux pas and what does he say in an attempt to comfort me? "But I didn't put the socks on until AFTER I sat down."

Oh, that makes me feel SO much better!

So I say, "Sean, you couldn't manage to put on a pair of jeans for your friend's graduation ceremony?" "Care, these are my favorite pants!" "Yeah, and my hot pink pajama pants are my favorite pants, but you don't see me wearing them to class, church, formal events, etc." He replies, "But my shorts aren't PJ's, and I already destroyed one pair of shorts for you!"

And this is true. A few months after we started dating, I broke the news to Sean that his somewhat tight-fitting denim shorts with (I am not kidding you) GOLD STITCHED PLEATS UP AND DOWN THE LEGS AND AROUND THE CROTCH were the worst shorts that ever existed in the entire world. Sean didn't believe me at first, but after I managed to convince him that he should really never wear those shorts in public again, he ripped them into rags and then tossed them from the window of his third floor dorm room.

Good riddance.

And whenever I remember those pleated jean shorts, I start to think that the grungy old gym shorts aren't THAT bad.

P.S. I just read Sean this blog, and he's now laying on our bed reflecting over those ill-fated denim shorts..."I thought those shorts were cool...but then they got a little small."

Family

I strongly believe that in most situations, in order to have quality time, you need to have a quantity of time as well. A lot of times "quality time" can't just be summoned whenever you want to have it--I realize there are some exceptions to this, because I live a long distance away from my dearest loved ones, so I know what it's like to cram a week or two with all the quality time you can. But still. Most of the time, quality time just happens while you're going through the normal, ordinary routines of spending day-in, and day-out with the same person or people. A lot of beautiful moments happen in the midst of daily routines--beautiful moments that we would miss if we didn't commit ourselves to things like: spouses, families, and jobs.

So, I spend 40 hours a week with these three kids that I nanny for, and I love them to death, but not every moment is "we adore each other and are having so much fun enjoying time together." We have regular days: I wake them up when they're not ready to get up, and there are disagreements, even an occasional tantrum, and lots of times we just ride in the car, listening to the radio and not saying much. But in the midst of our ordinary days, extraordinary moments arise.

Yesterday I picked Vinny up from school and he had a fistful of flowers in his hand. When I asked him what they were, he told me, "Sour flowers! And if you chew on the stems they taste really good!" Being the enthusiastic nanny that I am (as well as the eternal optimist, which insists that these plants won't kill me), I took the stem he offered me and began to chew. DELICIOUS! Cold, sour-slightly-sweet juice bursting into my mouth from a bright and crunchy green stalk. What a miracle! When we got home, Vinny immediately hopped on his bike and took off for the "store" at the corner of his block--which is really a big bush of sour flowers. He gathered a great bunch of the juicy stems and came home bearing them like gifts. By this time Giuwels had disappeared inside to play with her new Barbies, but Vinny asked me if we could stay outside. "Sure, what do you want to do?" I ask him, and he says, "I just want to sit and eat these with you." So, we pull down two beach chairs from where they hang in the garage, and we set them up at the opening of the garage. Then, with our chairs facing West--towards the nearby ocean and the coming sunset, we sit down side by side, putting the long green stems in a pile between us, and start munching away--with not a care in the world on a sunny December afternoon.

Later on, Vinny and I spend at least 20 minutes speaking our "special language" --which could be called the Opposite Language, because all you have to do to speak it is say the exact opposite of what you mean. This results in many silly phrases such as, "Vinny, I absolutely forbid you to do your homework! You must never, ever do it!" or, "I hate this--speaking this language isn't fun at all!" I love seeing the delight in his face while he works out what to say or silently translates what I've just said.

And--to the delight of my book loving heart--when I hand Vinny the next book in the Spyderwick series which he's been reading, a little with me, but a lot on his own, he says, "I can't wait to read this book with you!"

I've devoured every book on nannying that I can find, and none of the platitudes dripping with sweetness, the admonishments to maintain professional boundaries, or the Marxist interpretations of buying and selling love as a commodity can help me understand the paradoxical fact that my paid job is to love.

Also, none of it helps me to answer the question that comes late one afternoon at the kitchen table--while I am simultaneously helping Vinny with his homework and painting Giuwels' toenails, and she asks, "Are you part of our family?" I fumble around with my answer, tripping over words as I somehow try to explain the paradox that not even I understand.

But if the question ever comes again, I will somehow try to tell her that there are two kinds of families--family can be a group of people who are related by blood, or a group of people who share life, and are connected by shared love and experiences--who spend a lot of time with each other, know each other deeply, and care and work for the well-being of the other people in the group. Thankfully, a lot of families aren't just one or the other--most families, I believe, are both. But yes, for better or for worse, and somehow in spite of (or is it because of?) the paycheck I receive at the end of every week, and whatever the consequences or implications of it might be: Yes, in some strange way that I still haven't figured out yet, I am a part of their family.