Juggling Christmas Fat and Happy 2006

December 16, 2006 at 5:50am Wishing you a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays “She’s making a list, and checking it twice,” Oh no, she’s not. It’s a week before Christmas and all through the house everything’s still, just as still as a mouse. I get the feeling that my annual attempt to minimize the commercial Christmas is futile. This year, I’ve ignored it completely and I have an eerie foreboding that I’ve only succeeded in postponing the panic until the end. Stress seems to be a customary side-effect of Christmas and I worry that I’m only prolonging the inevitable. So, I’m sending holiday greetings… correction, I’m writing holiday greetings. If the words holiday greetings are marked out and changed to New Years Greetings, I’m sure you’ll understand. It’s probably time to get serious about reporting on the children since they are just about out of the house. Ian is fourteen and topping out at six feet. I’ve not yet become accustomed to yelling at him, neck kinked skyward. He is just as laid-back as ever and strolls around the house bellowing Christmas tunes in a bass that rattles the windows and I wonder at times if a hydrallic lowrider is rumbling by. He’s earned his double black belt in Taekwando and if I ever venture down a dark alley with him and his voice, I’ll feel so safe. My life is more sedentary since I left off being the primary driver, but the new job as family air traffic controller, is equally difficult. The eldest not only drives me nuts, but drives into nuts. How does one shatter a windshield driving under a walnut tree? Ian acts as co-pilot and reports back first-hand on the most recent hair-raising near-miss and the occasional fender-bender. Thus far, all four traffic incidents have been good learning experiences and non-insurance related, so we can’t complain. Dia. spends her every waking moment juggling. As a junior in high school she has so many balls in the air (we counted twenty the other day), that all she needs is the big red, plastic nose. It’s a daily toss-up with school, volunteering and boys, so any day now I expect her to fling the balls wildly and run away screaming to join the circus. Aidan, our little inventor has turned his attention to cub scouts and plans to pass off the entire book before the next pack meeting. We’re enjoying the good-turn daily thing and strangely enough, look forward to rejoining the pine-wood derby demographic. His passions mirror his intense focus on Ian. The two of them live for each other and war—weapons, battles and skirmishes of every kind. Any straight object is a sword and every rope, an integral part of some bludgeoning accoutrement. With all three of them in piano and choir, the cash we once flung out to entice them to practice we’re now flinging in an attempt to convince them to stop practicing—cease and desist and for heaven sake, "Leave me in peace!" I expect that in the not-too-distant years to come, my holiday letters will be themed more with regret and castigation. Dave and I are well, fat and happy and loving Tulsa. Oops, I take it back, David is not fat and now, not very happy and Tulsa … well, Tulsa is fine. We’re enjoying the capricious ambiance of a seventy-degree day today and the thirty-degree threat tomorrow. We actually had a lady-bug hatch flitting about today. Dave’s job is good, and it seems that he likes it enough to continue doing it for a while longer. We hope that you and your family are finding moments to enjoy the season and the blessings for remembering the reason for this sweet Holiday. I’m off to go somewhere and put something on a list. Terina, Dave, Dia, Ian and Aidan