The Beginning Of December

The night before last, I got out of work 22 minutes early. The moon was full. I put christmas carols on in the truck, and I sang on the way home.

When I got home, a woman popped out of the car, pointed a camera at me, and drove away. She couldn't have been taking a picture of me, could she? Perhaps she was transfixed by the gorgeous, glowing full moon over my shoulder? My holiday spirit was silently snuffed out. I reminded myself that the days of being followed by private investigators, aimed with the intent of finding fault and taking my children from me, are over. I forced myself into jolliness by loudly singing "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" as I climbed the stairs to the apartment. My home was filled with the smells of a good dinner and a loving family. My husband was vacuuming, and you know nothing turns me on like a man doing housework. I wondered what my ex comes home to at night. He wouldn't start that stuff again, would he? No matter. Years have passed and I have spent them building a solid foundation under me, I told myself. I am stronger, but even after years passing, the fear is still there.

My ex's sister in law showed up on my doorstep last weekend. I was a dishevelled mess, of course. She let me know that she is getting a divorce, and their house is being foreclosed upon. She has lost about one hundred pounds, and I would not have recognized her if I passed by on the street. I wished her all the best, but I felt terribly awkward. Those are the moments when I wish my hair was brushed, at least.

Last night we decorated the christmas tree. My mind was filled with work issues, and bills, and cleaning, and all the obligations of the holidays, yet all that melted away in watching the girls' glee. "Oh! Look at this one!" "I remember when I made this!" "This is my favorite one! No, this is my favorite one!" Many ornaments do come with attached memories. We unwrapped candles and light-up Santas, a ceramic centerpiece and a green and red tree skirt, and the girls' seemed enthralled with it all. Afterwards, we lit the tree and all the candles, drank hot chocolate, cut out paper snowflakes and watched The Polar Express. I wouldn't have done any of this if it weren't for them. I would have sat in my dark room surfing Facebook. Having a loving family is my biggest blessing.


I have torn the house apart. Since starting working full time in May, organizing the wedding, going away on my honeymoon, and my husband 110% focused on starting his business, the house did not clean its' self. I realized that I have never lived in one place long enough to need to steam clean the carpets, scrub the baseboards and launder the curtains. You have to WASH curtains? I didn't know.
I also didn't know how much satisfaction I could get from doing it. Don't be confused, it's not like, Yay! Housecleaning! but I am maturing into appreciating clean towels, folded and put away. I spent an afternoon underneath the folding table I use as a desk, going through papers and throwing things away. Then I went after the closet. Then I went after the girls' room (Goddess help me!). My girls aren't into toys. I know, it is weird. They are into projects. Knitting projects. Sticker projects. Sewing-painting-glitter projects which leave little paperbits-clothbits-glitterbits, sticky with glue, stuffed into every orafice of their bedroom. Beads are EVERYWHERE. Not just under the bed. IN the bed. Underneath the carpet that was supposed to be wall-to-wall. In the doll's shoes. In between the pages of Nancy Drew...beads! Who am I to stiffle their creativity? Never one myself for "tidyness", exactly...I may have found that even I have a limit. I have excavated about half of the apartment thus far.