Mess Mahs

The final act in the holiday triptych is over. Like many families this year, we passed it all at various stages of illness - Bobby at the tail end, me right in the middle, and Theo just starting. Symptoms included fever, listlessness, aches, fatigue, runny nose, coughing. Bobby missed half his winter camp, Theo had to be retrieved from school early, and countless plans/projects had to be abandoned so I could malinger in bed. 

I did, however, rally just enough on Christmas Eve to create this, baked from scratch: 

The idea had been for the boys to join me in this venture, but the BF took them out to get them out of my hair and kept them out so long I ended up just doing it all myself. Honestly, after feeling like death warmed over while caring for sick, bored kids all week, an afternoon of an absorbing project while listening to true crime podcasts was just what the doctor ordered. 

Christmas was fine - a pleasant day at home with no visiting, traveling, cooking or entertaining. The boys were delighted with all their gifts, even the dumb ones. I’m dreading the day they start being bratty about getting things they don’t want. In anticipation of this, I drafted this list of Christmas Rules: 

The next day we went “sand sledding” at Venice beach. A Southern California tradition I was unaware of, apparently every winter vast sand dunes are created as storm breaks along various beaches, and kids sled down them. I had bought the kids saucers for an upcoming trip to the mountains, so we used those. Honestly, it didn’t work out so hot - we should have brought boogie boards - but it was a gorgeous day and we all had a nice day at the beach. 

Today I went to the funeral of an old dance friend - a woman just a few years older than me with a young son who died of an aneurysm when I was in Italy. She was the ex-girlfriend and dance partner of one of the guys I kicked out of my Hall of Fame a year ago. I had a lot of trepidation going there today - and the guy did not disappoint, making a dig at my event in his eulogy and being pretty foul to everyone who dared approach him (not me - I stayed a mile away at all times). It was just terrible watching her young son touch her casket for the last time. Like all mothers, my biggest fear in life is leaving my sons motherless. I know that I am their whole world, and that they are whole and happy and safe because I am here. It’s a huge weight, existing for the well being of little people. And not one I take lightly.