follow this way to happiness.

Be kind to the one person you find it hardest to like.

Stop yelling at your kids, at your dog, and at yourself for yelling.

Pray before you eat, pray before you gather, pray before you sleep, pray so you can find your way.

Give away everything that clutters your house, your car, your mind and your soul.

Speak less often. Listen much more.

Save your dog's life even if it costs $1800 and buys him only a few more months. It could also buy you peace, love, and even a miracle.

Clean your sinks and toilets. Make your bed. Put away your shoes. Do the rest later.

Drink water.

Stop wanting what you can't have. Stop wanting what you can have but don't need.

Pay attention to your children. They are good teachers.

Find God and love God, whatever that means to you.

he's the king

"Why, don't you know? He's the King. He's the Lord of the whole wood, but not often here, you understand. Never in my time or my father's time. But the word has reached us that he has come back." - Mr. Beaver, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

these are a few of my favorite things...

• The snow and icicles outside my window.
• Sewing doll clothes for Christmas presents. 
• Singing at the 11:00 evening service Christmas Eve. 
• Singing the Bare Naked Ladies version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.
• Watching my favorite holiday movies: White Christmas, The Chronicles of Narnia, and The Family Stone. 
• Pumpkin-cranberry bread. 
• Wrapping all the special gifts I got for my three children. 
• Christmas songs on the radio. 
• Nantucket.
• Last minute shopping trip for an extra something. 
• A clean house. 
• Drinks with friends. 
• Lots of white christmas lights. 
• Pine scented candles.
• Vacuuming up pine needles.
• A warm scarf. 
• Staying inside all day. 
• A winter walk. 
• Giving, not receiving. 
• Going to bed with a quiet house. 
• Waking up Christmas morning. 
• Believing in all that Christmas stands for. 

the blustery cold

I love the blustery cold this time of year. I'm sorry, it's just what Christmas does to me. This morning, Julia and I huddled in the car waiting for the bus. Then I bundled up Elise, and wrapped my warm scarf around my neck and tucked my favorite hat over my head feeling the icy chill as we waited for the heat of the car to really warm us. Then, once we arrived at school, we dashed across the parking lot with the wind chapping our faces.

Still I love the blustery cold. I love how it makes us run inside so thankful for the warm and how it makes us want to stay inside. I love how, today, it inspired me take down my sewing machine that has been on haitus since summer and work on costumes, and then once I was finished, how it made me feel so thankful for my mom teaching me how to sew. Then I daydreamed about new projects to begin with my girls this winter. How lucky that I get to be at home with them and do these things. Is it possible, I finally love not just being a mother, but also love the act of mothering?

I also love how the cold makes us hunker down and wait--wait for what's to come: the Christmas Pageant, a few days in Nantucket celebrating with my brother and his wife, Christmas Eve church service with beautiful carols and readings, and finally midnight, when He comes again and there is so much to be happy for. Even the bad news that Nelson might work on Christmas and our original plans are now all messed up can't ruin the joy of it.

I love too how when you look up on a cold night with a clear sky and you imagine what it was like that night long ago. How a tiny baby was born and changed everything--and the miracle of that and all it signifies. I love when you breath the artic air and look up at an immense sky full of stars and instead of feeling small and insignificant, you feel connected to the Universe and alive with gratitude and hope knowing that everything you have at this moment could go away and you would still have God and love. So even though it's so very cold outside, consider that. What else do we really need but God and love to keep us warm on a blustery winter day?

gifts

We did the costume fitting for our church Christmas pageant last night. Julia and Elise dressed in Angel wings and halos (and crowns too) and ran around in character as the grown-ups rummaged through the costume closet to find robes and accessories for each child. We outfitted Mary and Joseph, The Three Wise Men, a shepherd, an innkeeper, and Gabriel, among others. Later we left with an armful of halos to repair and two animal costumes to sew. Our simple pageant, with the standard cast of characters and traditional carols, isn't particularly original or different or spectacular, and yet, it filled me with a great sense of purpose to come together with parents and church staff to help our young kids prepare this telling of the Christmas story. It's spectacular because it's not.

This morning, I drove over to an older couple's home to shop at their little barn full of handmade doll clothes. I looked through racks of outfits and picked out one for each of my girls. The nice lady and I chatted about the various dresses and accessories and then she carefully packed my purchase with silver tissue paper and wished me a Merry Christmas. And I did feel so merry at that moment.

Just an hour ago, I was at my mother's while she helped Elise bake a batch of sugar cookies. I sat on the couch thinking of my Dad and I asked my mom if she still had his wedding ring. She fetched it from her jewelry box. The simple gold band is etched with a worn inscription: SLD to RRL 8-31-1963. I called my brother, and asked him if I could give the ring to Nelson since he lost his last year. "Of course," he said. The perfect gift found. And so there have been many gifts to count before even a roll of wrapping paper has been turn out.

things my one-year old son did today

• Ate french toast with blueberries, looked at me, and said, "mmmm."
• Climbed in a laundry basket.
• Put my makeup brushes in a poopy toilet (thanks to my daughter who didn't flush or close the bathroom door). 
• Smeared lipstick on his face, dropped the used tube down the shower drain, looked at me and said, "uh, oh." 
• Flung a box of goldfish crackers across Macy's department store in a toddler rage. 
• Watched me frantically gather goldfish that skidded far and wide across shiny tile floors-just waxed for the holidays. 
• Had another tantrum in CVS.
• Cried my name all day. "Mama, mama, mama."
• Cried more when we ran across the parking lot through a sheet of wind driven rain in just above freezing temperatures. 
• Slapped his sister and then burst out crying (again) when she scolded him with a firm "no!"
• Tried to escape off the changing table with a nasty butt. 
• Kissed me on the lips with a runny nose and a mouth full of bagel. 
• Went to sleep with same runny nose. Woke up crying two hours later.
•  Let me rock him back to sleep. 
• Made me tired and happy. 

I so hate when I'm that mother

The cold weather has snuck up on me. This morning I rushed around searching for a pair of mittens for Elise. I dug through rubbermaid bins in the attic looking for Julia's winter gear from last year, but instead insulation kept falling on my head, and all I found were old blankets, summer clothes, and a pair of Cinderella feet pajamas.

Elise cried when she saw the two new pair of gloves I had gotten for Julia. I explained that I couldn't find her size (which was true). Still she cried until the Cinderella pajamas consoled her.

When it was time to leave for school, I stepped out into the frigid air and knew I had to give Elise something for her hands. The teachers constantly remind us that "if the sun is shining, they go out on the playground." I ran in to get her Julia's second pair of gloves. She clapped in delight, but Julia burst into tears shrieking, "she'll get them dirty." Then the bus pulled up and Julia climbed onto the bus crying. I waved goodbye but she wouldn't look at me.

Nelson slipped the gloves on Elise's tiny hands. Her fingers didn't reach. They barely stayed on put. But we buckled her into the car seat and drove her to school with gigantic gloves. They would have to do.

It's only Nelson's third day home, but I felt as though he was wondering why I didn't plan for the cold weather better. To make matters worse, he found a pair of wet pants in Elise's backpack from last week that the teachers sent home after a messy encounter with a mud puddle. I had forgot to bring them in from the car and wash them.

I so hate when I'm the mother who doesn't have it together. I hate it when I'm the mother who sends her kid to school without proper gloves. I hate it when I'm the mother who leaves wet pants in the car. I really hate it when my child gets on the bus crying. Most of all, I hate it when I let these insignificant failures make me feel crappy.

The perfect mother. I'm so glad she doesn't exist. So why do I keep revering her?

this is it

A while back, with spit-up on my shirt, hair in a greasy ponytail, and after completing my fifteenth diaper change of the day, I remember thinking "is this is as good as it gets?" Will my life ever be exciting again? Or is this it for me?

On Tuesday, I took Julia and Elise to rehearse for our church's Christmas pageant. Each of the girls wowed me with their individual maturity and talent. Julia didn't know all the words to the pieces we've been practicing, but she sang loudly and with enthusiasm. Among such a small group I was proud of her daring. And Elise, sang quietly but knew most of the words and the actual melody of the song. A big accomplishment for a three-year old (the youngest of the group). It was a turning point for me. I felt like I was finally seeing the manifestation of my influence on my girls. Seeing them doing such a good job make me realize, I too, am doing a good job. And there is no other job on the face of this earth that I'm more honored to do--despite how hard I struggle some days.

So yes, I realize, this is as good as it gets. This is life: wonderful, messy, ordinary, everyday life. "This is it," as John Kabat-Zinn writes in Wherever You Go There You Are. This is it and he continues, "this may actually be the best season, the best moment of your life...If that was so, what would it mean for you?" For me it means, quit simply, life couldn't be better. What does it mean for you?