SAHM I am (13 page)

It’s almost 10 a.m. and I’ve been in shock for the past two hours! Guess who showed up on my doorstep at 8 this morning? TOM!

I open the door and there he is, in the snow I haven’t shoveled off the front stoop yet, holding out three long-stem roses. Okay, so they’re the kind you get from a gas station for a buck a piece, but still…

“Happy Thanksgiving,” he says with that lopsided naughty-boy grin of his. Mmm…

“You’re not supposed to be here until Wednesday night,” is all I can manage, because I am truly brilliant sometimes.

“You know I like to be early. You’ll let me in anyway, won’t you?”

I try to tell myself I am still mad at him for the weekend, but you know, it IS a new week. Can’t hold on to grudges forever. And besides, he looks soooo good. I just throw myself into his arms, and the roses drop onto the porch beside us. We kiss while he opens the screen door, we kiss while we stumble over the threshold, kiss our way into the living room, and while he takes off his coat. And just as we are getting to the couch, we hear a little mousy voice.

“Daddy?” says McKenzie, looking cute in her fleecy blanket sleeper. She’s interrupting the first romantic interlude I’ve had in weeks, but…cute. “Why you trying to eat my mommy?”

I bury my face in the cushions and squeal, but Tom answers, as smooth as chocolate, “’Cause I didn’t have breakfast yet. Can I eat you?”

He drops to his hands and knees on the floor and starts toward her, so she shrieks and runs around the room, him chasing her. When he catches her, he tickles her. Hearing both of them laughing brings tears to my eyes. Why can’t it always be this way? :)

Turns out, he felt so bad about not coming home over the weekend that he decided to actually take the next THREE days off, and he left at five this morning to come home. He’ll be home all week! Thing is, I have no idea what I’m going to do with him. I’m not used to having him around that much, and I got most of the housecleaning done without him. But it is GOOD to have him home!

Dulcie

Uh, Dulcie, babe…WAY too much information! :) But I’m glad he’s home. Have a great holiday!

Z

Dear friends,

Please pray for us. We just found out from our doctor that our son, Tyler, who is 8 years old, has juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, which explains why he has been having so many aches and pains lately. It’s not life-threatening, but it will probably continue to be painful for quite a while, and he may have to have medication and therapy for several years or more.

I just reread what I’ve written and it sounds so clinical, so calm. But I’m really not calm at all. I’m completely overwhelmed! This is my little boy! The one who thrives on tae kwon do and soccer. He won’t be able to continue sports at all, I don’t think. And I have a stack of pamphlets about the disorder, medication, physical therapy and other companion
disorders. I can’t even comprehend that something like this is happening, much less act like the adult in the situation. I want to sit down and cry, but I’m afraid of how that would make Tyler feel. He’s already a little scared, and I want to help him be brave. But how can I when I’m scared, too? And Shane isn’t willing to talk about it yet. He’s in shock, just like the rest of us, but I need him.

We’re supposed to be hosting Thanksgiving for Shane’s family this year. I don’t feel very thankful. This is going to change Tyler’s life forever, and it’s never going to go away. I should be glad it isn’t worse—Tyler will still be able to live a fairly “normal” life. But I just can’t stand the thought of him facing years and years of chronic pain. My goodness, how am I supposed to be thankful for this?

Jocelyn

Just when you think the Thanksgiving family celebration is going to proceed without a hitch…I mean it—things were going great. With Tom home, I got the house decorated, the baking done, kept my mom and Tom’s mom from swaggering too much and generally was feeling great about how the whole thing was progressing.

We all sat down at the dining table—Becky, Jordan, and kids, my brothers and their families, Grandma, the mothers, even Morris (who turns out to be a pretty decent guy, actually). The candles were lit, the turkey looked great, the bread smelled heavenly. We always take turns before the prayer to
tell what we are thankful for. Tom even said he was thankful that I’m such a great wife!

Then it was my turn. I got as far as “This year, I’m most thankful for—”

And that’s when I heard the sound that is every mother’s nightmare. I looked over and saw McKenzie helplessly puking all over the table! Everyone gasped, but they didn’t move.

“You suppose somebody could get me a towel or something!” I shouted.

My brother Kevin jumped up and dashed to the kitchen. He returned with a tiny dish cloth! His wife was, like, “Oh good grief!” I ran to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of bath towels. While everyone else made inane comments about my “poor little kiddo,” I single-handedly cleaned her up, wiped up the table, then got her down and put her to bed.

When I came back to the dining room, my mother was in the process of clearing off the ENTIRE table so she could remove the tablecloth. Nobody protested—they looked like they’d lost their appetite. We eventually ate about an hour later, but the “mood” was gone.

After dinner, everyone had to leave quickly. This morning, I find out from Mom that Grandma is now sick, too.

“Well, we
know
you didn’t
mean
to make Grandma sick,” my mother croons, “but that’s just the difficulty of trying to plan something in a house with children. You probably missed the warning signs because you were so busy getting ready. I just hope Grandma doesn’t have any serious complications. You know she’s susceptible to digestion problems, and if she loses too much weight…”

Subtext: “If Grandma gets the flu and dies, you will go down in family history as the reason why. And we will never, ever let you or anyone else forget it.”

Not that they will forget anyway. Every year, from here on, it’s going to be “Remember the time we had Thanksgiving at Dulcie’s house and McKenzie barfed all over the table?” And then the tale will morph into “Remember how she puked on the turkey?” And everyone will laugh and nod. “Oh yeah, who could forget?” Even though it never happened.

And why is it that somehow it’s MY fault? Did I make my child get sick? No. Am I supposed to see into the future and just “know” it was going to happen? Apparently. ’Cause I’m THE MOM. I’m “mom-niscient,” I’m “momni-present,” I’m “mom-nipotent.” Supernatural being that I am, I could have stopped this from happening. Thus, because I didn’t, everyone is slightly suspicious that secretly, I
wanted
this to happen. Yes, I admit it! I cunningly sabotaged my own first effort at hosting a family holiday by infecting my daughter with some diabolical illness that would cause disgust and revulsion among all my relatives—not to mention, attempting to do away with my own grandmother in the process.

COME ON, PEOPLE! I know my children have driven me insane, but I’m not maniacal…yet.

Of course, I now know how to get my mom and mother-in-law to stop fighting over who gets to spend time with the grandchildren. :)

And Jeanine spent the rest of the visit telling Morris about all the times Tom was sick as a child. By the end of the day, even
I
didn’t have an appetite! So help me, if he gets sick this weekend…

McKenzie now has a fever and is getting a cough, too. So much for a “happy” Thanksgiving. And we were planning to get our Christmas tree this weekend! Grrrr!

Dulcie

Hey, precious people,

I’m practically in tears (again) because of the outpouring of love and concern from you all for Tyler. Thank you, ever so much. Your prayers and encouragement mean so much to our family. I just wanted you to know that yesterday all our relatives arrived, each with a special gift for Tyler. It was like an early Christmas. Everyone pitched in and helped, and their love just permeated the entire day. Tyler told me he was afraid everyone would treat him weird, or be awkward around him. But they were great. They had him laughing and cracking jokes by the end of the day, just like the old Tyler.

I’m not going to say we’re suddenly okay now or comfortable with this new disorder, but I feel much more confident about it. It was like God sent us a huge dose of joy, through each one of you and our family. It was one of the most precious holiday gatherings I can remember. I was wrong—there is MUCH to be thankful for this year.

Love to every single one of you,

Jocelyn

Hi Sis!

Yeehaw, I’m so glad y’all are coming for Christmas! Mama and Daddy told Frank’s parents all about you, and they are very interested to meet you. Mama and Daddy just LOVE Beppe and Tiziana—they said it was too bad that Chad’s parents are the ones who live in America instead of the Marcellos. They’d gladly see it switched around.

I know you were a mite worried about the cost of presents for everyone, but Frank and I can’t help but go a little overboard this year—since it’s our first Christmas as a family. We know y’all are poor as Job’s turkey, so we thought maybe if you limited it to $40 to $60 per person for each of us it would be easier for you. Nothing fancy. I’m attaching a gift wish list for all of us, and if you might could send me one for your family, well, that would be finer than frog’s hair. I’m expecting you’ll need to buy for about fifteen people, because it looks like Aunt Kris and Uncle Shawn and their kids are coming, too.

Oh, also we’re throwing a huge party—a black-tie affair—for all our friends and adult relatives, so be sure to buy a new formal. Chad can rent a tux here. You’ll need to bring a small gift for each of you to exchange—something in the $20 to $30 range will be fine. Santa’s fixing to be there, and for $20 you can have your picture taken with him. We’re hiring a babysitter for the kids, so you’ll need to chip in for that, too.

Other than that, we just plan to relax and enjoy visiting with each other. Ain’t seen some of y’all in a coon’s age, as we say ’round these parts. Houston has lots of fun stuff to do during Christmas, so we can do as much sight
seeing and shopping as we want. There ya go! I can’t hardly wait!

Ronnie

Salutations, Sweet Sisters,

It’s 5:15 a.m. here in Washington, and I’m sitting at my computer with a steaming cup of herbal tea, watching snow falling in the light of the streetlamp. We just put up our Christmas tree this past weekend, and it casts a cheery glow from the living room. I love early mornings—everything is still quiet and calm. It’s a time for reflection, to meditate on all of the Lord’s blessings.

This morning, I’m taking time to appreciate the simplicity of silence, of hot tea, of having time to write an e-mail to my dear friends out there in cyberspace. And I wonder—how can I keep this sense of peace and relaxation throughout the coming holiday season, when so many people are more stressed now than at any other time of the year?

Ladies, the EVILS of
commercialism
have overtaken our sacred holiday. We have bowed our knees to
consumerism,
given our hearts to the wicked IDOL of
materialism
and made a mockery of the blessings of
capitalism.
It’s time to TAKE BACK OUR HOLY DAY! Are you with me? What can we do to simplify this holiday season? Perhaps we should ban
Christmas presents or picket the Santa line at the mall. The pressure of gift-giving is SUCH a distraction, not to mention a waste of time and money. What do you think?

Blessings and joy to you all,

Rosalyn Ebberly

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