Disfunctional Family Christmas

There is a lot of pressure at this time of year. Between shopping for the perfect gift, numerous family gatherings, Christmas Concerts, decorating the house, baking cookies, wrapping gifts and regular household duties, there lies the pressure to create the "perfect" Christmas. You know the one; full of happy faces, perfect meals, peaceful interactions-straight from the Hollywood movies. Somehow we assume that just because its Christmas, family interactions will somehow change, our finances will miraculously be fixed, people will cooperate, and the house will be decorated without any complaints or arguments. But often there is a chasm between our dreams and reality.
I remember for so many years, I dreamed of having that perfect family Christmas. But my reality was that my dad would watch TV until my mom told him firmly that it was time to start opening presents. This would begin the annual Christmas Eve argument, until one of them finally won out. Then, in a tension filled room, we would open our gifts and disperse as quickly as possible, only meeting in the kitchen to fill our plates with appetizers before heading to our own separate directions.
Then, our family dynamics changed when my parents separated. The second year after their divorce, I was working at the youth center, being somewhat bah hum bug about the upcoming holiday festivities when Al McLean, my supervisor advised the volunteers during our pre-meeting and prayer time that this time of year was often difficult for the youth. It wasn't always a happy time of year due to family difficulties or financial troubles. Dysfunctional families were often MORE problematic due to the stresses and pressure of the holiday season.
Somehow, knowing this, freed me from the dream of the perfect Christmas. That year, I decided I was going to enjoy my dysfunctional family Christmas. Here is an excerpt from my journal that year:
"Here's the scene: Owen is screaming and crying, ready to puke up anything that comes his way. Sarah is frustrated with Owen's crying and looks so dead monkey and ready to fall over at any time because she has the flu. Jon begs anyone with legs to get him shrimp and croquettes. Grandma babbles on and on about who knows what, and Mom rolls her eyes frustrated. Rachel is half naked, trying on every new outfit she got, including her princess attire. James has his paws clinging to my box of chocolates and we have a tug of war until I finally let him win, only to distract him with a toy and steal them back a few seconds later. Dan is sitting back, laughing at the hilarity of the situation and enjoying his first Christmas with my family. Aside from fighting with James for my chocolates, I just laugh. And Smile. I like dysfunctional family Christmas. Its everyone's personalities shining through. When we are dysfunctional, we get to be ourselves. No pretending to be nice, or acting perfect. Just being who we are and accepting each other for their quirks. That's dysfunctional family Christmas, and a perfect one at that." (2005)

Every year since I changed my perspective about Christmas, has been interesting. They all have had something go wrong (goodness knows, we have the 12 days of Christmas to celebrate, something is bound to go wrong). But along with changing my perspective, I've also changed my focus. Now Jesus has become focal, and all the rest can be what it may.

When I first started dating Dan (almost 4 years ago), I made him a deal that I would get to be bah hum bug one year and I would try my best to be happy the next. But he has been lucky. He has yet to suffer a bah hum bug year, except maybe that first year. We choose to celebrate Christmas, with all its dysfunctionalities, and let it be what it is: Christmas.

April did a sermon this week about discouragement. As she introduced her sermon, she relayed how she had been asked to talk about discouragement way back in September, but saved it for this week. She found it fitting to start the Advent season with a sermon on discouragement, as that is often a part of people's mindset at this time of year. While I was listening, I relayed it back to my dysfunctional family Christmas. Then I went a step further and realized that the whole Christmas story isn't all about peace and happiness. Its about struggling and feeling discouraged. I think Joseph found it a struggle to find a place to stay and discouraged when all he was offered was a stable. Didn't all those people know his wife was about to give birth to the Chosen One? And I'm sure Mary didn't find it peaceful giving birth to Jesus (just ask any woman about childbirth!) I find the entire story saturated with dysfunctionalities, lack of peace, frustrations and discouragement. Perhaps, we've injected our need for peace and happiness into the story (don't get me wrong, I know its there), but we have forgotten that its also full of dysfunctionalities.

This Christmas season, lets just enjoy the craziness. Forget that impossible dream of the "perfect" Christmas. Let's trust God and embrace the dysfunctionalities.

Something to make you giggle

While at church on Sunday, I saw a man (okay, it was Anthony), wearing a shirt that caused me to giggle. Instead of describing it, I googled it. So much better. Enjoy!

Some things are best left in the past

We all have those favorite childhood memories, you know playing in the park, eating a favorite meal, general tomfoolery and those things that just made you a kid. This month, we decided to relive some of those favorite meals, inspired mostly by Amanda's cravings (although only one meal was actually eaten by her as a child).
Meal #1: Flipper on a raft (aka homemade Tuna Helper on bread). For those of you who are wondering what this culinary delight might be, its basically homemade white sauce with tuna thrown in, spread over sliced bread and topped with cheese. Mmmmm! Or not. This was a favorite of Amanda's mother growing up, and sometimes was placed over cooked Mr. Noodles (dubbed Flipper in seaweed). Sounds great in theory, however when it came to actually consuming said meal, neither one of us thought too highly of the recipe. Dan detested it so much, he actually called Amanda's mother and proceeded to inquire where the recipe came from and why she would actually serve this to a child. I do believe I overheard the words "medieval torture devise" within the conversation.
Meal #2: Mac N Cheese...Whiz. (Dan's favorite growing up). Okay, seriously, Mac N Cheese Whiz is not good. Especially since Dan seems to think that mixing cheese whiz with milk somehow makes it better. Well, it doesn't. Traditionally Dan served this meal with a breaded chicken patty (we left it out) or with hot dogs (which may have added some much needed flavour).
The point of all this has been to show that some childhood memories are best left in the past. Especially the childhood culinary ones. When its got a name like Flipper on a raft or a main ingredient like cheese whiz, you should back away quickly. Do not make such meal. Nostalgia is not worth all the dry heaves and nauseousness, or questions like "Why did I just do this to myself?" Some things are just best to leave in the past.

So this is what being a parent is like...

Dan and I agreed (what are we insane??!?!) to keep the kids overnight last night. Their parents went to a concert and we had Bible study. The kids were fairly good, only coming out a few times to see what was going on. I had to go in a few times to break up fights, but what can you expect? They are little. They finally went to bed at about 10:30/11ish, which is not abnormal for them. (although, they were bouncing off the walls, and my eyes were drooping...) I had a good nights sleep, until....
5:45am. River wakes up screaming and crying. Something about his leg hurting. I never did find out what the problem was. I just tried to calm him down and keep him from waking up Cypress who is in the same room (probably a cardinal mistake on my part, but I'm still learning)
6am. Cypress wakes up crying, complaining that something hurts. I assume she wants some sympathy after hearing me with Rivs. Then the coughing starts. I pick her up to take her out of the room, so that River can sleep. As I'm picking her up, I feel this gross heave extirpating vomit onto my shoulders, back and hair. By this time, I know what's happening and make a run for the bathroom. I stand her in front of the toilet and instruct her to barf in it. Meanwhile, I'm peeling off my shirt to keep the vomit from dripping all over the place (needless to say, there is a nice trail from her room to the bathroom). She vomits again...but instead of her aiming for the toilet, she turns her head at the last minute and it ends up all over the floor and the bath mat. Gross! We clean her up, change her shirt and put her to bed. Dan and I spend the next 15 minutes removing barf from our floor and bedsheets. We go back to bed, tired yet very awake. We are just about asleep when at
6:30am I hear Cypress complaining that her tummy hurts. I run to her room, just in time to grab a blanket to catch her vomit. I yell at Dan to run and grab a bucket. (he walks) It's dripping through the blanket (which is still wrapped around her), and into my hands. Finally, Dan gets the bucket to me and we yet again clean up. I instruct Cypress to vomit into the bowl if she needs to barf again. I ask Dan to get a towel to put under the bowl (see, I'm getting smart), while I settle her down. We both head back to bed. We are just about asleep when at
7 am I hear her start to gag. Up it all comes, this time in the bucket. But she is screaming. When I finally calm her down to understand her, I realize that she is upset, because the vomit is on her chin. I wipe that up and head back to bed. I'm just about asleep (do you sense a pattern here?) when at
7:30am. She does it again. A quick run to help and an equally quick cleanup and we all head to bed. I'm just about asleep and at
8am. She's gagging again. No barf, thankfully. Just not feeling good. Then River wakes up. He's doing fine until he starts to cough. I grab the bucket and in the barf goes....well at least most of it. It kinda splashed everywhere. Another bed spread into the laundry. It doesn't help that his diaper was all out of place and he wet through the bed. Yippee!

Needless to say, that's the last barf we've had so far. It's currently 10:30am. I'm on my third load of laundry (and there are at least 2 more). Oh the joys. I think at about 6am this morning Dan and I had a conversation that went something like this:

Amanda: So, this is what having kids is like.
Dan: We are NEVER having kids.
Amanda: Nope, never.
Dan leans in to snuggle up next to Amanda.
Amanda: Are you kidding me? Get away from me! No kids! EVER!

I think our sleep loss led to this but, needless to say. If' you're going to practise, you may as well have a bad experience. If you can make it out alive, I think you're ready to go forth and multiply....but maybe not until this experience is forgotten.

A cop a day, keeps the criminal away

Or should we say, a cop a minute keeps the criminal away.
We went to return a video to the video store tonight, an eight minute return trip. We literally counted eight cop cars passing by us in that eight minute trip. It doesn't really make the neighbourhood feel any safer. In fact, in this town, it makes you wonder if there is a Bacon Brother running loose. Lets just hope that the cops catch who they are looking for, and that no one gets caught in the crossfire.

H1N1 and the line from Hell

Generally, I have found that there are three different ways that people have responded to the H1N1 flu shot.
1. The "I want the flu shot and I want it now. And I will do whatever it takes to get it" person
2. The "I'm not afraid of the flu, and I'm not sure about the safety of the vaccine, so I'm not going to get it" person
3. The "I'm only getting the shot, because.....I have kids, I have a pre-existing condition etc...." type person

Unfortunately, the type that you meet in the H1N1 line are the number one, aggressive type person. Last week, I took both kids (age 2 and 3) to get the flu shot as their parents requested. Let me say that taking two kids to stand in line for 2.5 hours is not my cup of tea. But then, the line from HELL made it that much worse. I took the kids to Mission, since there was no clinic in Abbotsford that the kids would qualify for (their clinic happened a week earlier, when the kids didn't qualify). People in line, were getting angry and aggressive. They kept saying, "This line is for Mission residents ONLY! People should stay in their own city and get the shot." Unfortunately, not every city had a place for a flu shot, so others would retaliate in angry outbursts. The Health Nurse came around to answer questions, and remove people from line who didn't qualify. Only, she didn't come alone. She came with a body guard. On top of that, there were times in the 2.5 hours that I waited in line, in which I needed to leave the line to gather the children to keep them safe from a delivery truck that was driving by. When I would return to my place in line, people would get angry and refuse to let me back in line. They would force me to the back of the line. I would play oblivious, since there was no way I was going to wait one extra minute in that line. By the time the kids actually got their shot, I was done. We ran out of snacks about an hour into the line, and we were hungry. And tired. Let's put it this way, I felt like going crazy. I laughed when Cypress got the shot, cuz I was DONE!
Needless to say, the next day Cypress got a high fever....a reaction to the shot. Two days later, River came down with a high fever. Now, we all have colds. Probably got them from standing in line with hundreds of other people. (so much for avoiding "close contact" with people who are sick..a slight oversight on the organizers part).

Walking and the Weather

Walking in this weather can be fun. Dan and I were walking home in the pitch black since the power went out around town. It was fun to walk with the wind screeching by and the rain dumping down. Dangerous at times.....some people still don't understand four way stops or that some people are crazy enough to walk in the wind and rain.....but fun.
On Saturday afternoon, I went to the mall to quickly pick something up before returning home. It was pouring and my umbrella broke on the way to the mall. (the handle came off and it refused to open). I decided to take the bus home, since the heavens decided to open up and dump rain like the world was ending. I ran to the bus, only to have an elderly gentleman take his sweet time to close his umbrella and get on the bus. So, needless to say, I was drenched. Happy (since I found the whole rain dumping on me quite humorous), but drenched. Anyway, as the bus starts to drive, I notice that there are fish tails about 10 feet tall coming straight out from the wheels of the bus. I haven't seen any fish tails that huge since I've been in a large boat. I actually joked that I didn't know if we were on a boat or a bus. Then, we passed this man in a bus shelter. The rain dumping on his head and then, to add insult to injury, a 10 foot wave of water splashed on him from either wheel of the bus. The man, was wet. Sorry to the man, but it was hilarious. From the front of the bus, I hear the driver giggling. He said, "I moved over as far as I could, but there was nothing I could do." (I must interject and say that this driver has a good sense of humour, as earlier this week he drove right past me at the bus stop, only to stop about 200 meters away with the comment, "I've always wanted to do that!") The driver continued to giggle and so did a few others (including me) on the bus. It was like a bunch of elementary school kids after someone farted. Giggles followed by controlled silence, and then bursts of laughter. I eventually got off at my stop and noticed a HUGE puddle that the bus needed to drive through. I know that after laughing at the man who got drenched, I probably deserved to be soaked as well. But I'm a smart cookie and waited a great distance from the puddle, so as not to get wet. I even had to run half a block (or the length of the puddle) so that a passing car wouldn't give me the same fate as the drenched man.
I love this weather. Sometimes though, it doesn't love me.

Yep! I'm one of those...

Nancy, the lady I nanny for, gave me a new Little People Schoolhouse toy this week, as a gift for me and for her children to enjoy while at my house. On Monday, I brought it into the house and had Dan take it out of the box. While Dan was taking it out of the box, he also removed the batteries (since everything on the toy, also served as a button that made some sort of annoying noise.) Yep, I'm one of those. I have the "no toys with noise" rule in our house. There is something that makes my nerves cringe every time I hear a fake sounding "vroom" coming from truck, rather than a child. I hate listening to the alphabet song-you know the one. A-B-C-D. A-B. A-A-A-A-A. I don't think I have ever heard the song all the way through, since the children keep pressing the button repeatedly. (perhaps, that's just one reason why I hate toys that make noise!) Nancy tells me that she believes that the toys educate the children. My response is threefold. Yes. It does educate them. At pressing buttons. (not really, what I think she was going for). Secondly, isn't that my job to educate them as their nanny? And perhaps her job as their mother? Thirdly, my personal observation. Nancy's house is full of toys with noise. When we are at their house, all I hear is the toys making noise. The children aren't talking. While at my silent toyed house, I hear the children. They are talking, and using their imagination to tell stories and make the noises that animals/cars etc. make.
It's just a personal choice. If others choose to have a household full of toys that make noise, then so be it. I have no qualms about that. But personally, I prefer that batteries are never included. Okay, that's not entirely true. There are a "few" toys that make noise that I wouldn't mind owning in the future (such as the word whammer or the fridge phonics from Leapfrog, and perhaps a nice ocean wonders aquarium that sings the baby to sleep) But I guess my biggest "rule" is that I don't the toy to make a noise that the child should be able to make (like a truck that goes vroom). I don't really want the toy to interfere with the child's imaginative play.
I was talking with some other people my age that grew up without noisy toys. The one mentioned that her parents finally broke down and bought her a baby doll that 'drank milk and peed.' She said it was fun for a while, but then that doll got tossed aside because it didn't fit in with her imaginative play. She couldn't make the baby do what she wanted it to, because it was only useful for one thing (okay two: drinking and peeing).
Most of us grew up in the age where toys didn't include batteries or made noise of any sort. And I do believe that most of us turned out fine. I hope to raise my children in an atmosphere where toys don't need to make noise to be fun. Or need batteries. Do you know how hard it is to find toys like that? Dan and I went looking for a car for a seven year old boy (his brother) that didn't require a remote control. We found one. Just one. (this may have something to do with the fact that Abbotsford seems to lack toy stores and the fact that almost every toy requires batteries). It was rather disappointing. Perhaps a good baby shower gift would be a large pack of batteries in varying sizes.
I may be "one of those." But I'm proud of that. And I love the children's voices as they use their imagination to make up stories as they play. Perhaps that's why Nancy is taking back her gift and exchanging it for one that doesn't make any noise. For that, I am extremely grateful.

A simple thought (or two)

I was thinking the other day. If men did what their wives asked, we wouldn't need to nag them. Therefore, its the men's fault that we wives nag. They should have just done what we asked them to do in the first place and then wouldn't the nagging stop?
(side note: we don't really have this problem in our marriage, since Dan is a good listener! And, since I told him this thought. He agrees that I wouldn't have to nag him if he listened the first time.)

Second thought: Am I the only person in the entire world who doesn't know how to make KD without reading the directions? I made the kids Kraft Dinner today and the little girl (who is 3)got mad at me. Don't you know how to make it? No! I don't. The first time I ever had KD, I was a teenager. And to be honest...it was gross! In fact, it still is gross (especially when smothered in Ketchup). It was interesting that i didn't even know macaroni came in a box until I was a teen. My mother always made it from scratch. And now, I make it from scratch (you know, real ingredients like flour, margarine and hark! real cheese) So, sorry I don't know how to make it.

Sunday Community

Yesterday in church, I saw something that made me smile. Actually, I think it made a lot of people smile. About half way through April's sermon, an elderly East Indian gentlemen walked into the sanctuary and sat down in one of the pews in the middle of the church. He listened intently as April talked about poetry, the arts and Christianity. (at least I think that's what she talked about. Sorry April, but this event kind of made me lose my focus and therefore forget what you talked about). At the end of the sermon, which had a slight focus on giving (as it was Thanksgiving), so we were asked to bring up our offerings of money, food for the food bank and items we had brought from home that we are thankful for (eg. baskets of nuts, quilts, sketch pads). April talked about how in the African tradition, if someone didn't have anything to bring forward, someone would give the empty handed something that they brought. Everyone would then be able to bring an offering forward. She asked us to do the same and share with those who didn't bring anything or forgot to bring something. The little children came and sang a song that goes something like this, "There's enough for all, if we would learn to share it. There's more than enough for you and me..." As the children sang, the entire congregation got up and came forward bringing their money, food and items of thankfulness. I personally saw many people share what they brought with others who didn't have any. But the thing that warmed my heart the most, was seeing this elderly East Indian gentleman get up and bring forth his offering. I saw him take his money and throw wads of bills into the basket. I couldn't believe that this visiting man would take part in this part of the service (as this isn't mandatory among visitors). After the service, I sought out this man. I wanted to know his story and what brought him to church this Sunday morning. I overheard him talking about how this couple invited him into church. He left the church quickly before I had a chance to talk with him, as the couple who invited him whisked him away. But I love how the Indo-Canadian community is mixing with the community at Emmanuel. (I even found out that a bench was erected outside the church for the elderly East Indians who sit outside the church every day.) I think it would be fantastic to mix the two cultures. It would also be a challenge as we figure out how to integrate a new culture into the church, without making them feel unwelcome. We have been talking a lot about community at Emmanuel and what makes a community. Perhaps this should be a part of the discussion. It's an exciting journey we have begun!