Christmas.

I don't know what it is about Christmas that turns me in to such a Grinch. Christmas used to be so much fun. It was three days of eating, and playing with my cousins, and visits with Santa, and getting presents and singing carols. As I got older, it all stayed the same, but the addition of alcohol around the 7th or 8th grade, and a new tradition of flaming Sambuca shots every Xmas Eve, just made it all even better than before.

I guess things change. My dad died, and my mom sold the farm and that changed our immediate family's Christmas traditions immensely. My cousins started getting married and having kids and moving away. I worked with mentally challenged people...they don't stop being handicapped just because it's Christmas, and their families don't always invite them home just because they're family. The group home girls and I have spent a few Christmases together, eating and laughing and snuggling on the couch, and eating some more.  I will miss that this year, just as much as I will miss seeing my cousins and aunts and uncles on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day at the same old places they always are.

After I got married, my mom told me that it was time for Smyrish and I to start our own traditions. She knew that we wouldn't always be able to be with her, or his dad, or his mom, all at the same time. She told me that things will keep changing, especially if we decide to have kids. Whenever I feel bad about missing out, I think of what she said. Smyrish and I haven't really had a chance to start our own holiday traditions yet, but we will, and all I can hope is that they are just as much fun as the ones I grew up with. I hope that if I am ever a mother, Santa will come to visit on Xmas Eve, and on Xmas Day, we will still all get a little tipsy and drunk dial relatives to sing them Christmas carols. I hope that I can be the one to make the big meal one day, just to try it out, and see how stressful it really is to feed your entire extended family.

Until then, Christmas will most likely remain the most stressful, guilt-ridden time of year for me. If I'm not rushing around visiting everyone and spending all my money on things people may or may not appreciate or want, I am away from them, and feeling guilty that I didn't put in enough effort to be together. Oy vey.




**BTW, I'm having another Etsy sale, just for the holidays.  Check out all the details here http://abigailroaddesigns.blogspot.com

Grace in Small Things #43 - Thank You Edition

Thank you, Mom and Dad for knowing that a degree in university isn't everything, and that the world needs plumbers, computer gurus, truck drivers, retail workers, cooks and nurses, as well as writers, artists, musicians and politicians.

Thank you, for never paying me for "A's" in school.

Thank you, for never making me feel stupid if I got a bad grade, when I tried my best, and thank you, for giving me shit and/or encouragement, to make me try harder, when you knew I was slacking.

Thank you, for supporting all of my extracurricular activities, and for finding the money to support me, even though I knew you didn't always have much extra to give.

Thank you, for being proud of me, and the work I do now, even though it didn't take any "education" to get here. Some parents would not approve, as I didn't have to take a class in Greek Mythology, Women's Studies, Basket Weaving or fail Logic 101 four times, to put myself $40, 000 in debt to get where I am.

Thank you, for being willing to help out, if your child's education did cost that much.

Thank you, for teaching me from birth, that it doesn't matter how much money a person makes, they can either be a nice guy, or an asshole.

Thank you, for moving back to Small Town, and raising us on our acreage, and teaching us, ( although we weren't always grateful), that you have to work hard to survive sometimes.

Oh Jebus, Xmas is Coming

You can tell Christmas is coming, when everyone is stressed out, cranky and complaining about a lack of money.

I am trying to be all "zen" about Christmas this year. I have realized that there is no way in hell I can please everyone, and with the short amount of time I have off from work, I can't even really please myself, and do exactly what I wanted to do, which would be having at least a few days to see everyone, and go everywhere. From what I understand, that's just the way it goes, once you're a married adult who has a job.

This year I will not be able to go to Small Town for Christmas, and instead we will be going to Smyrish's dad's place on Christmas Day, and his mom's on Boxing Day, so we're still getting good meals, and time to visit relatives before I have to get back to work. We even get to throw a Boxing Day brunch in there with a couple friends who do not have family here, and for that, I am grateful. To me, my friends are family too. I am also grateful that I have a mother that understands that regular everyday life doesn't stop just because it's a holiday. She understands that I have to work, and that I only have a day and a half to do the Xmas thing, and we can always get together another time. It's too bad my brother GQ isn't as understanding, because it would make this year much easier on me. I've missed out on Christmas before due to work, weather or car troubles, and the world didn't end. It just sucks a little, not to be involved in the Christmas traditions we become so accustomed to, after years of doing those same things, and seeing the same people.

The first Christmas after my dad died, was when I learned that life changes, and things don't always stay the way you want them to stay. Christmas morning was strange and awkward for me, even though our routine didn't change much. He wasn't sitting on the couch in his robe, watching us as we opened our presents, giving us lame advice on what we should do with our new things. We didn't have to beg him to hurry up and open his presents, and I couldn't laugh and roll my eyes at his "surprised" look when he opened the day planner that he got from us every single year. We made Xmas brunch ourselves, instead of eating his greasy, but yummy, mess of eggs and bacon.

Things just kept changing even more after that. Relatives and friends that I was used to seeing every year, got married or moved away, had babies, or started new jobs. Now I am married, and have an even bigger family to include in Christmas plans, and possibly one day we will have our own children, and we will start our own Christmas traditions, and people will just have to roll with it.

That's life.

Grace in Small Things #15

1. I am incredibly grateful for the fact that I was raised in a family where we were taught that family and friends come before anything else.

2. If I hadn't been raised that way, I may not have had so much fun on a road trip the past couple days, wrecking hotel headboards with Carla, playing cribbage, eating an insane amount of disgusting food, and singing oldies at the top of our lungs on the way home (in which I did a five hour drive in three hours!)

3. I love that I have people in my life, who will drop what they are doing, and leave town, so that we can check and see how a friend is doing....and have fun doing it.

4. I am extremely grateful that I had the chance to meet Wilf, and make some wonderful memories of him, and his children, before he passed on last week.

5. It makes me happy and comforted to know that his children have adopted my brothers and I into their family, and that we have done the same to them.

6. After a week of birthday's, night shifts, drinking with the ladies, and a funeral, I finally just let myself take the time to have a huge cry over the loss of a man, who I am ever so grateful to have had in my life.

Grace in Small Things #11

It is days like today, when I find it really hard to think of the little things that are making today okay. Today is a day of exhaustion, depression, paranoia, laziness, cramps and extreme loneliness, and my only hope is that the wine kicks in soon, and I forget all about everything and everyone.

1. Patches. This dog is the cat's pajamas, and he is way more lovable than the evil fish, although I do really enjoy their insanity. It is quite entertaining.

2. An out of the blue email from a friend I see only on occasion and by accident it seems these days, that said only "I love you Abigail. I really do."

3. Smyrish taking the dog for a walk this afternoon, because even though I wanted to get out of the house, I had just woken up after my last night shift, and felt like a zombie.

4. My brother is leaving The Pub, and his friends, to come and play Super Scrabble with Smyrish and I.

5. He is the only person that asked to hang out with me this weekend and I predict some good conversation tonight...as well as many drinks.

6. After looking at pictures from karaoke on Monday, I just couldn't help but giggle. It was a really good time.

7. I have half a box of red wine, and a bottle of white wine leftover from Christmas parties. Since I have no money, and the urge to drink, this made my day!

8. My old friend Jen. She sat and talked with me for an hour last night when I got to work. I love her stories and living vicariously through her crazy single life!

9. I have taken time each day this week to do something crafty and creative and my brain is ever so thankful.

It's a Bit Early, but I was Just Thinking of You...

I will never forget the day Kurt Cobain died.

I was walking out of the house, to see what my dad was doing in the yard. It must have been really warm, I was only wearing grubby jeans and my Jesus and Mary Chain t-shirt. I do remember the sun shining, and the snow was almost gone. I couldn't see dad, but CBC radio was blaring from the radio in the garage, so he had to be within ear shot.

"Smells Like Teen Spirit" started to play, and I heard the DJ say, "Stay tuned to CBC news on the hour for more information on Kurt Cobain's tragic death".

A few seconds later, the on-the-hour CBC "beep, beeeeep, BEEEEEP" came, and I don't remember much after that, other than standing in the middle of the garage, dumbfounded, trying not to drop to my knees.

I cried a lot the next couple days, alone in my room. I still cry at times, when I think of how sad I was at that time, and how music made me feel like I wasn't alone.

A couple years later, I watched my brother become a fan of Nirvana, and I watched him feel the way I had felt. People worried about the sad Kurt Cobain posters on his bedroom wall, and worried that he was just as sad. I'm sure he was.

One night, as my parents were busy worrying about him, and the cops were worrying about his Nirvana posters, I locked my bedroom door, and pretended that nothing was going on. I smoked a few cigarettes, had a hoot, and cranked up some John Lennon on my stereo.

I was hoping to send a subtle message. I don't think it got through.

But music saved him too.

Our artists suffer, so we don't have to.

I'm Not Ready.

So, last night, I am sitting on the couch, with my feet in my foot spa, drinking a cup of tea, and the phone rings. I look at the call display, and see that is my aunt from Small Town. I stared at the phone, wondering if I should even bother answering. I was having a good day, and I figured a long distance call from someone who has never called me before, would never be a good thing. I mustered my courage, and answered anyways.

"Hello?"

"Abigail, it's Auntie. Now, I have some news, and it's not good news, but it's not that bad either. It just sucks. Please don't get upset, I already scared your uncle when I called him."

"Um, okay, what's up?"

"Your mom is in the hospital. She had a fall, and broke her right wrist, and had a reaction to the pain meds they gave her, and she needs to come to The City for surgery."

She continued to tell me the rest of the story, what had to be done, who I had to call, and what I had to do and expect. We chatted for awhile, then I hung up the phone and called the brothers to let them know what happened.

Now, my first instinct was to drive home. But, I stopped myself. I knew I could help by picking her up when she needed me to, and looking after her once she was here, and if she needs me, I can go and stay with her in Small Town for awhile until her arm is better.

As I was sorting out this mess in my head, I thought of a passage from an Erma Bombeck book I stole from my mom's book shelf about ten years ago. (Sorry, mom.) She is contemplating the transition of power between mother and daughter, and why and when she became the mother, and her mother became the child. She needs to take care of her mother, but they both rebel against it. She still wants to be a kid, and her mother is not ready to step down yet.

I remember the first time I witnessed this between my mom and her mother. We had to stop at Nana's house, on the way home, and mom sent me inside. When I got in the house, Nana looked stoned, and was smiling and laughing as she told me she had been throwing up all afternoon. She said she was fine, and didn't need anything and rushed me out the door. I ran to the car.

"Mom, there's something wrong with Nan. She's actin' funny." I will never forget the look of fear on my mom's face, or how calm and cool she was while dealing with the situation.

My own transition has been slowly evolving since my dad died. The very first time I ever felt like an adult, was the day we went to the funeral home, and planned the funeral. I got to have a say in the arrangements, what urn we would buy, etc. Mom asked me my opinion on things, and let me take hold of the reigns a bit, even though I wasn't really sure that I wanted to, deep down.

The transition started to speed up this past summer, when my mom found out she had Bueger's Disease. I never really worried about her before this. Even after my dad died, I knew that my mom was strong, and could look after herself, and although I wasn't as close as I wanted to be to her, she had a great support system of friends and family in Small Town, if she needed anything. Then, all of a sudden, I was taking her to appointment after appointment. It was me that was sitting in the hospital, annoying doctor's and nurses, waiting for results and tests and worrying about my mother, just as she had done when I was in the hospital. I started wishing that I could just be a kid again, and mom could just go back to being strong and healthy and looking after me. I realized, that if something bad ever happened, I would be put in her place, take on that position of power. It would be me that would look after her, or the boys, and all the other things in between. I was a bit angry with the world, and wanted my mom to stop aging, because she was just dragging me along with her, and I wasn't ready to grow up and worry about these things.

The truth is, I can handle anything that's thrown at me. I get that from my mom. I am strong and independent, just like she is, and a broken arm, isn't the end of the world, it just sucks. But today, I am feeling old, and just wish that we could go back twenty-five years, when our roles were more clear, and mom was the one who had to take care of my scrapes and bruises and wipe away my tears, and I could just go through life knowing that no matter what, I was being taken care of, by the strongest woman in the world.

How to Truly Enjoy a Three and a Half Day Weekend, Part Deux

14. When unable to show everyone what a fantastic bowler you are, impress them with your "victory" dance instead.

15. Go home with your man, and laugh while watching "The Darwin Awards".

16. Stay up way too late, pissing around on the Internet and drinking beer.

17. Spend Sunday cooking a lovely, fart-inducing Ukrainian meal for your family. Make a mental note that sauerkraut just may have the power to end relationships, and should only be used when absolutely necessary.

18. Drag out the board games after supper. Lose at Trivial Pursuit. Consider taking Grade Four over again.

19. Hang out in Smyrish's kitchen, drinking water, and talking, before heading to bed to have a good....sleep.

Needing a Nap.

I blew it. I did not rock this thing. Close, but no cigar. I just couldn't keep up with the NaBloPoMo. Well, I could have, but life got in the way. I sat down to write an entry last night, but the only thing I could come up with was,"Made supper for the whole family. So tired. So full. G'night." Even that was a bit too much for me. I chose to just not blog at all, and hit the hay, since I had to be up early to take my mom to the bus station. I think I made the right decision. Laying in bed next to Smyrish, is always better than staring at this here computer screen.

Yesterday was nice though. Mom had to come in for a doctor's appointment, and was spending the night, so I invited the whole brood, GQ, his Hot Italian Girlfriend, her little guy, Juke Box Hero, Knuckle Toes, and of course Smyrish over for a family supper. We ate and ate and ate, drank many beers, and had a nice visit. It was nice to cook for everyone, instead of our usual "Are we ordering pizza or Chinese?" supper that we usually have when mom comes to town.

I think I'm still full, which could be one reason why I am so darn tired today. If I didn't have to go to work, I think I would just put on my pj's and crawl back into bed and watch trashy television for the next 12 hours.

Daddy Dearest

I've been thinking about my dad quite a bit lately. More than usual, which is a lot, because he enters my thoughts every single day. Everyday, something catches my eye, or my ear, and makes me think of him. The last few weeks, it has been just more obvious to me.

I was watching "All in the Family" the other day, the episode where Gloria finds out that she is pregnant, and Meat Head freaks out and runs away. She's sitting there in the middle of the night, talking to Edith, when Archie comes down, and tells Edith to beat it. He makes Gloria get out of 'his chair', so he can sit and talk to her. (Soooo, like my dad.) He tells her the story of the day she was born, again, and in his own awkward way, makes her feel like everything will be okay. My dad used to call me on my birthday, every year, and tell me the story of the day I was born. I would roll my eyes, and sigh, and say " Not again!", but I would listen, and by the end of it, my eyes would be full of tears. We would tell each other "I love you", and he'd either hang up abruptly, or quickly pass the phone to my mom.

It hit me, that I don't get one of those moments. My dad will never see my kids, if I ever have any. He may not always have been the best dad, but I bet he would have been one hell of a grandpa.

After that, it seemed that my days became flooded with reminders.

I saw a documentary about the Galapagos Islands, and remembered the time he told me that when he was a little boy, he read about them, and ever since, he wanted to go there.

Listening to Smyrish talk about his dumpster finds, always reminds me of the crap that my dad would proudly bring home after a day of "shopping" at the dump.

Whenever I play Scrabble, I think about my mom and dad when they were young. My mom once told me the story of how they were playing Scrabble and drinking tea, and realized they were out of smokes. My dad had remembered dropping some under the house, and crawled down there to get them. It may sound strange, as I see that as quite romantic.

When I see GQ, his hot Italian girlfriend and her little guy together, I just wish that Dad could see how far GQ has come in the past couple years. He's no longer an Eeyore, he's a man, and a dad himself. He reminds me so much of Bob, in some good ways and some bad.

Every time I think of running away, which I do a lot this time of year, I remember the conversation we had before I left for Scotland. He told me, that I was the most like him, and I inherited some traits that he wished I hadn't, but he was happy that I inherited his fearlessness. He told me to never settle for " it'll do", and to always seek adventure in life, even if I knew I might fuck up.

The older I get, the more my memories of him change. All of the not-so-good memories are pushed to the back burner, and all the good moments become clearer. Which is just the way I want it to be.

Family Values.

I have a huge family. Unlike some people, I have been raised to be close to not just my immediate family, but the whole lot of them, from aunts and uncles, to third cousins, friends and neighbors of said family, and all the wonderful people that have married into (and gotten out of) our clan over the years. Both my mom and dad's families are quite large, and are friends with one another, and have been for many, many years. This has always made for huge family gatherings, and as well has taught me to welcome and love everyone I meet into my heart and my home. It has also taught me to always have booze and food and extra pillows on hand, because you never know when someone is going to need a place to stay, a shoulder to cry on, or a good laugh.

Over the past few years, when family was not so close at hand, I learned to lean on my friends. Instead of calling on mom and dad, or calling a cousin, I called on my homies. We partied, we laughed, we cried, we learned to look out for each other. In the past year or so, the number of people I consider close friends has sky-rocketed. Our little group of regulars at The Pub has blossomed to the size of a Ukrainian wedding. When in need of a night out, or a shoulder to lean on, each one of us has 45 people we can count on to be there in a flash. Some of us are closer to each other than others, some only come out to play once in awhile, but we're all there for each other, no matter what. These people are now my extended family, and it just keeps on growing. New sisters, mothers, brothers, drunken uncles, ex-husbands, what have you, they all have their role in my life.

When you have so many people in your life that you love, it can get tiring. Lately, I have been tired from all the fun, and have not really had the energy to entertain, or be out and about. I needed a break from the social scene. It's been one crazy summer.

But then, on the same day, I heard the news that one of the extended family of friends is expecting another, and shortly after heard the sad news from my mother, who is also not doing so well at the moment, that I had lost a very dear cousin, and after a one day pity party for myself, I crawled out of bed this morning and I snapped myself out of it. I need to be on my game, in case anyone needs me. I want to be that person that people know they can count on to be there for them. I have family that needs me right now, and I'm going to do whatever I can to be there for them, make them comfortable, and give them a laugh.

There is no reason for solo pity parties, when I can lean on everyone around me, and count on them to give me the strength to get through a really tough week.