On December 18, I was telling all my friends how excited I was that, as of noon on the 19th, my girls would be out of school for two whole weeks!  Visions of crafts and Christmas danced through my head. We’d lay in bed together and read, make cookies, hug a lot, and even dance to “Get Jiggy With It” about once a day. (Hey, we all have our traditions.)

And we HAVE done all of those things!  It’s been beautiful!

But I’d forgotten (or repressed) the fact that there are the “in-between” times when I need to fold laundry, clean, make dinner and wrap presents. During those times, the girls are on their own to entertain each other. Thus, yesterday, they came up with a new game while I was… well, ok, I was checking my Facebook wall. So?

And what was this game they made up?  It simply involves chasing one another around the house and, upon ‘tagging’ the other person, you scream at them.  Scream at the top of your chipmunk voice.  Scream until you have no more breath. And then both start running again, only it’s the other chipmunk’s turn to tag and scream.

The Screaming Game.

And it’s only December 24th.  We have until January 5. What’s next?

I believe in magic.

I believe the world is more than simply a sum of its parts, that those things unseen are just as possible as what can be held and quantified.  I believe in the spirit of bedtime stories, myths and legends.  I believe the core of all we dream goes back to some things just as real as they are unknown. 

I believe in the wonderful awe of my children as they impatiently wait for a holiday of marvel and enchantment: from the birth of a special child lit by the glow of an impossible star to, against all hope, eight days and nights of blessed light. 

I believe that the lights on a tree can freeze time in the embrace of one perfect moment and in a fabled old man bringing gifts to all the children of the world as they sleep.  I spent my youth in Narnia talking with trees and dancing with water sprites.  I searched, ever hopeful, for doors that opened onto brighter things than dusty boxes and old coats.  Every time I closed my eyes I knew, with unshakable faith, that when I opened them the world would be full of wonders untold, waiting to be discovered.  I see that same brightness in my children’s eyes now.

My belief is like the flexing of a muscle rarely used in daily life.  But I exercise it, regardless, so that it will be strong when its time comes.  The older I get, the more I have to concentrate, to focus and lose focus at the same time in order to find the right place deep inside of me.  I do this for my own children, for the future and all it could be if given a chance and a leap of faith… with all my hope, I believe.

1. May they wait until AT LEAST 10:30 before asking when lunch is.

2. May AT LEAST one room in the house be completely free of forts (made with your favorite throws and held together with your favorite breakable dustables), spilled drinks (which they don’t tell you about and use your favorite throws to try to clean up themselves), and green army men (hiding out from the enemy inside the one Pottery Barn Voluminous Vase that hasn’t yet been shattered by indoor football games.

3. May they AT LEAST consider all the past and present “had to have” Christmas presents of legos, marble sets, K-Nex build-it-yourself roller coasters, and yes, even Wii games, before they announce to you that “there’s nothing to do” and they are bored (at 8:30 in the morning).

4. May there be AT LEAST one neighborhood buddy that does not go visit Grandma or Aunt Sally or Cousin George for the next 10 or so days.

and last but not LEAST…

5. May you get to go to Target just one time without the kids in tow (which, with kids following so closely at your heels that you actually have blisters,  can and will result in $100 being spent on useless junk that you don’t need and $0 being spent on things you really do.)

Okay, I know we’ve been trying to stress the simple things lately – less fancy toys, less TV, more creativity and reading and family time- but this is getting ridiculous. 

Anna’s letter to Santa, as dictated to her preschool teacher:

“Dear Santa,

For Christmas this year please bring me a stick. And one marshmallow.

Love, Anna”

It wasn’t so long ago, that I would crawl out of bed only 20 minutes before it was time to leave the house. All I needed to do was throw on my clothes, brush my hair, wash up real quick, and hit the road. I was never rushing, I was never late, and I was never watching the clock. Oh how I miss those days!! 

These days, my mornings are hectic at best. From the time my feet hit the floor, I am rushing and running, watching the clock, and shouting orders to tiny little people who couldn’t care less.

Sure, there are things that could be done the night before, but that would make too much sense. Instead of thinking ahead, I chose to pick out clothing based on what is at the top of the laundry basket; I make bottles and sippy cups of milk while they pace back and forth waiting and whining. I iron my clothes one handed, with the baby on my hip. Before I know it, it’s 8 o’clock and we aren’t even close to meeting my goal of walking out the door by 8:15.

This morning, I felt the time slipping away. We woke up 30 minutes early, but still were running behind. I was in the bathroom trying to get ready, when I realized that I had no clue what time it was. I yelled down the hall…

Me: Is “Blue” still on?

S&S in unison: YES!!

Me: How many clues did he find?

Saniya: Just one!

Me: Did he get a letter yet?

Saadia: YES!

Me: CRAP!! We’re late!! COME BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!!

My how times have changed…