Christmas 2019

One of my favorite blessings of this time of year is the chance to connect with you, my friends and family.  I hope all is well or that you are at the very least surviving, like us:

Avery (12) has entered middle school and laid claim to her first iPhone,thus giving her unlimited access to me.  Now, she can disturb me wherever she may be in the world.  Modern technology.  Hearing snippets of her day at school has led me to believe she is actually attending a psychiatric ward.  “He just stole my pencil and stuck it up his nose.”  In reality, there is probably little difference between middle school and a mental institution.  Only two and a half more years…. The benefits to having an up close, at times suffocating, front row seat to the crazy have not escaped me though, as I continue to be a proud mama watching in awe of the strong capable young woman she is becoming.

Caleb (10) has designated himself my deputy, always willing to give citations to his brother and sister for complete disregard of his unspoken rules, like garnishing their chili with too much cheese.  Jerks.   We regularly debate important issues like proper hygiene.   I stand by my assessment that bath bombs do not clean cracks.  Fortunately, we don’t always disagree.   We have nearly identical taste in children’s fiction books, which he reads to me nightly.  His sweet, tender heart is a gift his whole family realizes.

Enzo (8) should be given an Oscar for his role as baby in the family.  It is an act he knows well and a card he plays often.  If it wasn’t for his siblings’keen eye for fairness and impeccable memory of every time I’ve told them “no”, our house would be a zoo full of exotic pets that Enzo really did need.  Am I seriously not supposed to have a favorite?  He is the peacemaker of the family, quietly observing, teaching us all we would do well to listen more and talk less.

As for me, 2019 has been the year of ‘work hard, play hard’ with little in between.  I believe myself to be akin to the winner of Willy Wonka’s golden ticket, as I have found the perfect partner in both work and play.  His name is Troy and despite my eccentricities he seems to adore me and my three-ring circus.  He has taught me the art of flipping in real estate.  It has become common knowledge that our contractors prefer to negotiate price with me.  Originally, I thought it was because I’m likable but Troy thinks I am not at all likable to our bottom line and insists he deal with them.  In order to settle this dispute and to ensure a swift, fair end to the vote, I’ve asked Ukraine to look for corruption in Troy’s past.  On the play front, Troy has done his best educating me in the art of travel.  As I watched him spoon bone marrow out of a carcass while at a brasserie in France, I realized how poorly apt he was for the task.  If we were really going to enjoy authentic French cuisine, we would need to focus our efforts in finding the perfect French fry.  It was a typical missing the forest for the trees situation. 

This Christmas I dream of an increase in consumption of soap and cleaner cracks for my boys and less reliable 4G cell coverage for my daughter.  I dream of reclaiming the master bath from my heathens, ensuring a cap on my toothpaste, a bathtub without a ring of bath bomb fizz, and my make-up found exactly where I left it.  May all your holiday dreams come true!

Sarah

Christmas 2018

Friends and Family,

Happy Holidays.  As I reflect back on all the changes 2018 has brought, it’s all but impossible not to feel like a failure.  What once seemed impossible became actuality as I realized the end of my marriage.  I failed.  We both did.  But in the same moment, I can’t help but remember Clarence’s words to George in It’s a Wonderful Life, “No man is a failure who has friends.”  And so this year, it is for YOU that I am grateful; in friends I am truly rich.  Well, you, and all the money I saved on postage this year when I cut the Christmas card list in half.

Avery, my feisty eleven-year-old, sped right past being a tween and entered post-menopausal, bitter, retiree state.  She constantly is complaining about the temperature in the house and is obsessed with the weather.  My nest thermostat has two settings, 63 or 87.  Despite her eccentricities, Aves continues to do exceptionally well in school, far exceeding the genetic capabilities her parents gave her at birth.

Caleb, my oblivious nine-year-old, is more confused than he already was.  His appreciation for the female form has begun, yet he has no idea why he is being drawn to play with the little blond-haired beauty down the street.  Of course, his older sister is quick to tell him ‘you like her!’ and everything else he doesn’t want to hear or discuss.  His innocence and sweetness towards his family remains constant and I’m just happy that my reign as the Most Beautiful Woman in Caleb’s eyes is safe for at least another year, though the competition from the eight-year-old who can’t even reach the microwave is fierce.

Enzo, my darling seven-year-old, is constantly barraged and bombarded with love notes from 1st graders with loose morals.  Little do they know that behind closed doors, all he does is rattle off endless facts about the feeding habits of the Dilophosaurus, beg for a seventeenth match at UNO, and eats more food than a redhead uses sunscreen.  However, any amount of annoyance felt is greatly overshadowed by Lorenzo’s loving heart as he continues to be the peacemaker, pouring out hugs, kisses, and appreciation for all.  

As for me, the reality of entering the work force to earn a living for the first time as a 33-year-old mother of three is in full bloom. Now that everyone knows that I am a Realtor, their immediate response to even a “Good morning” is no longer a pleasant “How are you” but rather a hasty “No, I’m not interested in selling!” or “My house is already listed with my second cousin’s florist’s brother’s uncle”.  In addition to selling homes, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to buy my first apartment building with very unique tenants, two of whom I was able to irritate within the first week of ownership.  Who knew that the broken garden gnome out front was not an abandoned piece of trash but rather a family heirloom the tenant in Unit 1 has owned since he was four and continues to play with as a twenty-four-year-old man-baby?  However, anyone could have mistaken Unit 3’s neglected herb garden as an overgrown patch of weeds, which I promptly eradicated with a gallon of RoundUp. Oops. I hope he enjoys the AeroGardenSanta left on his steps. I’m sure he will only grow thyme and rosemary in that thing… right?

Phenomenally, in spite of my cotton headed ninny muggin-ness, God continues to love and bless me.  All of us.  How grateful I am for His watchful eye and the gift of our Savior.  

Merry Christmas to you and yours,

Sarah