Today

Today is my birthday. My four year old has it all planned out. Me, him, the three year old and the baby are doing the following things (not necessarily in order):

1. Visiting Chuck E. Cheese.*

2. Going bowling.

3. Eating a cake that is purple and looks like something I like, like maybe a raccoon.

4. Eating ice cream.

5. Going to the dinosaur museum.

6. Eating another cake that could be a tiger or a shark.

7. Watching How to Train Your Dragon.

8. Going to Pirate Island (even though it burned down).

9. Going to Provo Beach for more bowling.

10. Buying candy at the candy counter at BYU

11. Eating at a restaurant like old McDonald

12. And anything else I want to do.

You are invited.

I told Cam that all I wanted for my birthday and Christmas was to finish a book. I emailed the request to him and I even wrote that it would make me “shine” inside. After I sent it I thought, why did I write that? Shine inside? So cheesy.

But, it would be nice.

And I might shine.

I also might not shine.

In any case, if I wanted to finish a book today or in the next few days, I’d need to be by myself, in a room for a lot of hours. This would be nice. It would also be not nice. I have the hardest time figuring out how to manage three beautiful loud chuckthingsatme boys, a wonderful husband, a house, parents, exercising, living, and then of course writing. I know some women do it and do it well. Me? Not so much.

Maybe tomorrow/today I will finish a book. A picture book about how it’s not a good idea to eat three lofthouse cookies in a row. Or maybe I’ll get closer to finishing a novel. Or develop the idea I’ve been mulling around for the past few weeks. Or maybe I won’t. And I think I’ll be okay because look at all the other wonderful birthday things I get to do. Come with us to Chuck E. Cheese. You know you want to.

*What does the E stand for? Anyone?

There’s Always a Turn. Always.

I Didn’t Sleep Last Night

But I wrote a post, marking the minutes as they passed.
It’s too down. Too depressing to put up here.
After all, this is the best time of year, right?
And I shouldn’t feel this way.

Once, when I was very young, my little sister and I heard Santa on the roof.
It was Christmas Eve.
We heard his sleigh bells.
We heard the scuffling of feet above us.
We were at my grandmother’s house.
We lay in bed then closed our eyes but knew right then and there that Santa did come to little girls’ homes when they were awake.

I love that memory.

In first grade I defended Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy and some cartoon characters and the guy with the pot o’ gold and vampires almost to blows.
Second and third grade, too.
And fourth.

It’s embarrassing to find out in fourth grade none of those good things are what they seem for everyone else and so we have to fight
–for the right
–to par-tay.

And to believe.

So I taught my girls that we give because we love and that Santa was a great guy who lived a long time ago and gave to those he saw who had nothing.

Every year, no matter our own circumstances, we try to give to those who have nothing because, damn it, we have a lot.

Here’s what I know–a character who believes in Santa is different than one who doesn’t.
Make your character an individual.
One who hears the sleigh bells and punches the snotty dark brown-haired girl in the nose.
Or, make her the snotty brown-haired girl.
Either way, make her real.

Here’s an aside story.
When Kyra was just over two, a well-meaning friend got face-to-face with her (a big mistake in Kyra’s book) and said, “What’s Santa bringing you for Christmas?”
We were in a busy store. Lots of people milling about.
“Santa’s dead.” Kyra said this in a loud voice and with authority–the way she still says stuff.

Kinda the same voice she used when she asked me if we were in Satan’s church when we went to visit someone else’s place of worship.

Hmmm. Satan and Santa are spelled sorta the same.
And I believe in both those guys.
No matter–it was Santa on the roof that night.

Merry Christmas.