...a single word to guide me...

 The year has almost chimed its farewell, and a new one beckons...full of things to come and dreams yet unrealized and moments that will become part of the story we live.
What a relief.

~~~

As I wrote previously, my intention to thrive in 2022 was thwarted at every turn, and I found the only recourse was to accept the year's demand that I settle instead.  It was a hard lesson.  A bitter defeat of my hope and my desire.  But there, you see...the word above?  Lesson?  Lesson, indeed.  And I, the unwilling student, finally learned it at the 11th hour.

My study of a year's time was that of :
settling with and settling for now and settling in and settling down and settling for always. 

It was a lesson written out in frustrations and disappointments, in discovery and acceptance.

It was...settling.

I settled.

I am settled.

And having done so, I'm ready for...

...rising back up

...breaking back out

...moving forward and moving on

What I'm ready for is what I've learned, by settling, is what I have to do before I can thrive.

I'm ready to heal.

We'll come back to that in a moment.

~~~

My partner's word for 2023 is "teamwork": his earnest hope that he'll learn to become a better team-mate.

For him, the word encompasses:

being open to other opinions or understandings

being supportive

being supported

finding his own strengths and taking the lead in those areas

taking a back seat when others are better equipped

working collaboratively

defining goals and working toward them independently and cooperatively

communicating effectively

My eldest son chose "expand" as his word to manifest in 2023: a challenge in every area.

He's setting out to:

expand his knowledge base

expand his creative output

expand his business

expand his social and support networks

expand his horizons

expand his use of his talents

expand his opportunities

etc...

~~~

I chose "heal".  I'm guiding this year to come, setting my intention and making manifest that which this past year has taught me I need.

Because if ever I want there to be a year in my future in which I truly thrive, first I have to heal the broken pieces and tend to the bits that need extra care.

If you've been here with me on these pages for any length of time, you know my longstanding motto has been "roll with the punches".  It was necessity, you see...the only way forward.  Just barrel on through despite the blows and keep moving to avoid the pain.

But I want to thrive.  I want to flourish.  I want that for my family.  I want that for myself.

I want to write this story with a happy ending.

So, I need to do the healing work.

It's broken down, in my mind, into a series of actionable tasks:

1) Heal the body:

a) I need major dental work.  I've needed major dental work.  All my adult teeth came in with fissures, and I've fought cavities and tooth decay and major dental pain my whole adult life.  But what few know is that a traumatic experience with a dentist years ago in Ohio has prevented me at almost every step, from seeking treatment. It has so debilitated me, that even the thought of scheduling a dental appointment sends me into full-blown panic and hysteria.  But I am writing the words here, to hold myself accountable...to make the appointments and allow myself the grace of having someone hold my hand the whole way through.  

b) I need to make a general appointment, and follow through on referrals, and determine what to do about my neck and shoulder pain and stiffness.  I've done it before...I can do it again.  I need to force myself to accept that PT might not be enough, and that it's not a matter of mind over matter. 

c) This body of mine needs to be allowed to recover, properly...restfully and with gentle care, from a challenging pregnancy and traumatic delivery.  I've asked more of it than I should have, and I've forced myself to push through pain and discomfort instead of listening to those warnings that I was further damaging myself.

2) Heal the heart: 

Kintsugi -that transformation from broken pottery into something precious~unique~and functional..by piecing what remains back together and binding the cracks with gold.  The beauty of highlighting the places in which you were damaged but continued on.

a) embrace, honor, and celebrate the scars that you've stitched yourself back together with

b) reparent that broken little girl who grew up feeling unwanted and unloved and unlovable, and tell her who she really is

c) embrace that devastated wife who tried her best to fix a broken man, and release her from the guilt and shame of having failed, and let her finally let it all go

d) turn the love you give to others back on yourself, and be as gentle and loyal and generous to yourself as you are to others

3) Heal the psyche:

a) silence the negative voice that bellows when you look in the mirror and choose, instead, to see yourself as your sons see you

b) accept that you can't do it all, and you shouldn't do it all, and not doing it all doesn't make you less than enough

c) reinforce your boundaries, stay resolute in your no-contact, and reach out for support when you feel yourself wavering

d) write it out

e) dance it out

f) sing it out

g) allow for tears...of sorrow, rage, humiliation, fear.  allow for the whole human experience, weak and tender, and stop steeling your spine.

h) remember who you are and what you've already overcome

~~~

Yes, this year...this New Year that's almost here...

This is my year to...

HEAL

...on failing at the intended, while succeeding at the necessary...

 Scrolling through social media in this last week or so, one theme has stood out. Whether it's family, friend, acquaintance or veritable stranger...everyone is beyond ready for 2022 to end.

2022, seemingly, was an equal-opportunity devastator.

A year that spewed disappointments...traumas...unhinged agitators and power grabs...
A year of breakdowns: emotionally, mentally, politically...in society.
A year overflowing with more than its fair share of devastating loss as good men and women fell.
A year where the good was outweighed at every turn by the horror of a reality in which the most unintelligent and most hateful were afforded not only space and time, but amplification.

It was a series of bad days, with little in between to offer consolation.

~~~

What feels like a lifetime ago, 2021 was chiming out its last and I had chosen "my word" for moving into the New Year.  Hopeful, naive, and buoyed by the excitement of a fresh step forward, I chose:

Thrive.

2022 was going to be the year in which I thrived.

Oh, the New Year and I had grand plans...grand plans indeed.  I was going to create the time and space to let my creativity thrive.  I was going to thrive as a mother and partner and person. 
I had plans, you see...a schedule and goals, and plans.
I had it all broken down into details and actionable tasks, this thriving.  I knew what was needed, and it felt within reach.
This, 2022, could be the one...the year I finally got back on track...the year I thrived.
Oh, baseless hope...and foolish wishes...

~~~

That.
Is not.
What happened.

~~~

You've only to scroll through some of my other recent posts to see all too clearly that I am not a woman thriving in the end days of 2022.  

My roots have withered or been clipped.  My habitat confines.  My few sparse blossoms are poorly tended and pale.

I am not thriving.
I am...surviving...
...on caffeine, and sugar, and the sustenance of a few good moments sprinkled in.

~~~

But what you don't see, in between words on the page or in my day to day, is that 2022 brought its own word for me...and it took this rearview contemplation as its hours run out, for me to finally see it.

That word was
Settle.

~~~

Settle

Transitive verb:
    1) to place so as to stay
    2) to establish in residence
    3) to cause to pack down
    4) to make quiet or orderly
    5) to fix or resolve conclusively
    6) to establish or secure permanently
    7) to conclude or close
Intransitive verb:
    1) to come to rest
    2) to sink gradually to the bottom
    3) to become compact
    4) to become fixed, resolved or established
    5) to adjust differences or accounts
    6) to come to a decision
    7) to conclude 

~~~

Prior to this past year, I would have shouted with the masses "Never Settle!".

I have, at times, made that my rallying cry. 

Never Settle: for the first option
Never Settle: for less
Never Settle: in one place for too long
Never Settle: into someone else's comfort zone

~~~

But this year, I learned that there is beauty in settling.  

Peace in acknowledging the "less than" and settling for what's here and now, for now.

Growth in dismissing your need to fix everything and settle with the way things are, for now.

Health in closing doors and concluding toxic relationships, and settling accounts and relationships, for always.

There is beauty in settling.

Settling for less, because more comes at costs you shouldn't pay.
Settling into routine, because the change you want will take time.
Settling down, by setting boundaries and shutting down access.

~~~

In 2022 I failed to thrive. Complete and total failure.

But...

in 2022...

I settled. 

Regularly, routinely...sometimes on purpose, sometimes by force...

I settled for what I could make do with.
I settled for what I could tolerate.
I settled into the who and what and where and when of now, knowing that change might come but not counting on it.
I settled things...and relationships.
I settled in.
I settled down.
I settled.

I settled when frustrated...when disappointed...when hurt.

I settled when challenged, by finding alternate routes instead.

I settled when knocked off course, by setting my sights on achievable goals.

I settled for less than I'd thought I wanted and found more as a result.

~~~~

And in settling, I found successes.  Maybe not thriving...ok, fine, totally not thriving, but succeeding in keeping my head/hopes/standards/expectations up...just enough to get through the minutes and hours and days of 2022.

...words on a page to sort things out...

Finding the time to sit down to write is a challenge in and of itself.  Gone are the days of scheduled anything...gone are the minutes etched into my planner in ink...gone is any semblance of predictability.  It's the toddler's world, and I'm just surviving it.

And that...above...is what accounts for 90% of my difficulty in getting words onto page.  Because while my head may be overflowing, trying to organize into rational thought at a moment's notice (when Henri finally drops off for a power-nap) between all the other burdens of priority, just doesn't work.  For the words to flow, I need to quiet the tempest.  And to quiet the tempest, I need to remove the input.  And to remove the input, I need first to do all the other things.

And by the time the other things are done, Henri is wiiiiiide awake and I've lost the chance, and the words swirl into a maelstrom of discontent and disconnect and disappointment.

And then I shake them loose, and the post disappears into the ether, and the page remains blank.

~~~

I suppose I'll look back at some point in the near-distant future and see this as a time of refining.  Certainly, I've been winnowed down to little more than immediate reaction and constant alert.  Henri's toddlerhood is not unlike Johannes'.  So many, many similarities between my two boys.  Of course, there's that little detail of 17 years difference...and I feel it in my very bones.

Everything hurts.

Henri is, as Johannes was, sensory seeking and sensory avoidant and everything in between.  The pressure and relief sought, is taken out on my physical body daily.  Once again, all these years later, I'm covering up bruises and scratches and bite marks...and wondering how the younger me made it through.

~~~

I feel...defeated.

I feel...incompetent.

~~~

No. Scratch that. I feel as though my motherhood is being hindered by others.  As though, my success lies wholly in single-motherhood and once I have to allow for others in the mix...whether it's Henri's Papa or his big brother...it throws off the balance and offsets the gains.

Welp...there it is in black and white...stark words in stark contrast for me to admit and acknowledge.

~~~

I'm good at single parenting.

I'm failing at partnered parenting.

~~~

There's just no balance.  I can't account for what I don't know about.  I can't add in the resources or reserves to cover needs that are in their heads.  I can't put Henri on hold and spend precious time teaching my partner what comes naturally to me.

~~~

And worse yet?  I can't be guided by my intuition and instincts if I can't tune into them because the other voices in the room are shouting.

~~~

And so it goes.  Me, fighting to keep my head above water while drowning under the pile-on of needs and expectations from everyone else.  Me, stalled in my intuitive approach to parent a neurodivergent child because everyone else needs me to be able to teach them a technique or approach.

Me...half in the shadow of everyone else and falling prey to feelings of worthlessness.

~~~

And Henri?  Frustrated...stalled...lashing out.

~~~

Perhaps these words on this page will be enough.

Just the writing of them. The reading of them.

Perhaps I'll publish them and turn a corner.

I want to. I desperately need to.

~~~

I know, down somewhere deep within me, who I am as a mother.  I know her well, and I've silenced her for too long...trying to make room for others to weigh in.  Perhaps this signals the end of that?

~~~~

Let me be her again.

Let me be me again.

~~~

Sitting here...cursor blinking...one boy snuffling in his sleep and the other typing away across the table from me, I choose her...me...I choose me.

Everyone else can just coast along in my wake until they manage to get up on their own.  But I won't be stopping to pull them alongside me any longer.  I can't. I won't.

...when the safe space is only safe if you're not there...

Church. 
Worship and praise. A safe haven. Commune with Spirit and with your innermost self.
Church.
Both place and action word.  Both pews of parishioners and Word within.

 I'm about to throw down some inflammatory words right here. Prepare yourself.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I.M.O., no one needs church more than the primary parent of a toddler.
And no one feels more out of place at church, than the primary parent of a toddler.

Think about it.

(Now, for the sake of relating this post to myself because:blog, let's stick with mom as the primary parent. Fairly typical...not necessarily the norm, but let's just go with it. If you've a strong opinion, let me know.  You know we're here for inclusion and acceptance.)

Okay, now...back on track.

The toddler stage is...challenging. If it still involves nursing, all the more so.  It's burning the candle at both ends and in the middle.  It's constantly refilling the tablespoon you're using to put out little sparks, while all around you, the wall of flames keeps closing in. Parenting toddlerhood is soothing the upset, while bracing for the punch...and then not reacting to that well-aimed, direct hit.

And in public?  Parenting a toddler is an exercise in shame...the limits of which you'll have forgotten...do not exist!

Parenting a toddler is the refining stage of the relationship: burning fire and rough tumbles to polish, chemical baths of hormones and adrenaline. 

It's not pretty.  It's not easy or instinctive or natural.  It doesn't obey any rules of expectation or follow any pattern. What works one moment or one day, has the opposite effect the next.

And we tear ourselves into pieces trying to gently enfold a wild animal.

There is nothing like parenting a toddler, to make you feel completely useless.

There is nothing like parenting a toddler, to make you feel completely worthless.

So back to what I was saying earlier: no one needs church more than the primary parent of a toddler.

Because church...safe haven and worship...is the only real reminder of our worth.

That Love is the only place in which to be restored.

Church is where the parent can remember the person.

Or, not...

Because, the person...is the parent...of the totally disobedient, wildly rambunctious, distraction-causing toddler disrupting the service for everyone else.

It's stubbornness, pure and simple, that makes us go back.  We know it's going to be bad...epically so.  We know that the backpack full of favorites and treats...carefully chosen to distract and bribe...will only get us through the opening prayers.  We know that by the second verse of the opening hymn, our little darling will have made a run for it...or rearranged the prayer bolsters...or tried to make papier-mache of the hymnal.  We know that our attention will be so laser-focused on preventative-maintenance that we won't even hear the sermon.

We know that much as we may need Church, our presence is disrupting everyone else's experience.

We know, that just right now, no matter how much we want to, we just don't belong there.

We know that the Doors are always open, but that, in this season, we should do everyone else the kindness of not crossing the threshold.

...in one door and out the other...

 Holidays are rich with tradition.

Beyond the true blessing of the Nativity, some might say that those traditions make the holidays. We look forward, not to the changing of the calendar page, but to the promise of time spent with loved ones and time-honored customs.  We invest our energy and our emotion in preparing... for baking and decorating cookies or stringing lights or caroling or...

We create and continue our family history, by stitching moments in the here and now to memories of years past.  The holidays, by way of tradition, are a gateway to travel through time.

In the early years with my eldest, when I was a single-parent, I prioritized the creation of traditions with him.  Our little family of two needed that solid ground.  He, autistic, needed routine and familiarity.  I, lonely and alone, needed to believe that I could be enough for him.

I poured my creative energy into making special memories and repeating them, year after year.
And while I found satisfaction in the delight that sparkled in his eyes when he'd come downstairs in the morning to discover that day's surprise, he grew to eagerly anticipate each season's traditions.

And so, our imperfect little team of two was a family, perfect and whole and anchored in tradition.

One of those traditions, and likely one you'll recognize and have some version of yourself is the:

 Advent Calendar

Our version has changed, drastically, over the years, but began humbly enough with the store-bought (German sourced, of course! Ha!) chocolate treat.  24 sweets to count the days through Christmas Eve, hidden behind the paper doors of a holiday scene. One per day was awfully hard for my little one.
(One year, in a failed efffort to keep the temptation out of reach, I put it on the windowsill...right above one of the baseboards...and woke up to a chocolate river pouring down the wall!)
And just like that, my new tradition of buying two (just in case but more often than not, one for morning-one for night) was born. 

Gradually over the years, I tried my hand at other variations. Always buying one chocolate calendar for morning excitement, and then trying to create the perfect evening treat as well.

24 candy canes hanging on the staircase wasn't quite exciting enough, so the next year, I made 24 felt cones and hung them off garland on the staircase, filling each with a handful of special chocolates.  While absolutely adorable, that option proved far too tempting to a certain midnight snacker, and the following year the cones hung from the top of our big front window instead.

And then we moved.

And, in moving, said 'farewell' to everything we could unload at a garage sale for extra cash...those felt cones included.  Mind you, they were adorable!

Relocating, and drastically downsizing meant I had to really get creative.  As did my mom-guilt, at an all-time high by now, having ripped my boy away from everything familiar.

So that year, I went with the "spoil him daily" option...little knowing I was creating high expectations for the next few years!

With no interior stair railings to hang treats off of, I went with the next best option...24 little gifts, wrapped in paper from years gone by, for him to pick and choose from every day.

An easy win, that stood the test of time right through the end of middle school.

As time went on, I got out ahead of the rush, and bought "a few of his favorite things" well in advance.

Treats over the years ranged from tiny Transformers to his favorite snacks, and even new books from favorite authors.  And always, always craft supplies and tools to support his then-burgeoning interest in what would become his first business: custom designed 3d printed Transformers!

Then one day, I saw it.

The perfect Advent Calendar!

A darling wooden house, complete with winter woods and village, and 24 tiny little drawers.

Reminiscent of so many beautiful vintage German Christmas decorations I had grown up with.

The perfect holiday inspiration!

I knew exactly what I wanted to do, to create a lasting holiday tradition full of fun! I set to work right away, once again with scrap wrapping paper leftover from other years, and the sweetest candy-cane striped twine.  Teeny tiny scrolls...elfkin clues for a festive treasure hunt!

And he loved it!

As did I!

We had such fun that first year...making a big production of dimming the lights and turning on the Advent House, unrolling the tiny little clue and searching for where the treat had been hidden.

This was it...the one to keep!

With Henri's first Christmas season on the horizon, I searched for another Advent House and lucked out, finding one that fit the bill at T.J. Maxx.  (Since then, I've noticed they carry more and more of them each year!) 

Johannes', of course, remains the tall one as befitting his stature, and Henri has the shorter.

The "resident elf" works twice as hard now, on 1/2 the coffee! (Still nursing.)

And as with everything else when raising two boys 17 years apart, she's tasked with creating two very different advent-ures...one more challenging and abstract, the other far simpler and accessible.

And Henri follows his big brother's lead: choosing to believe in the tiny little elf who leaves tiny little clues, to sweets and treats hidden about our home.

Johannes, for his part, indulges in the fun of it...both for the inevitable treat, and for the magic we're creating for his little brother.

Year 1

Year 2

This year, I decorated early (I know, I know...I never decorate early.  But this year we needed Christmas so much more!) and Henri spent the next several days eagerly and none-too-patiently anticipating the start.  Every day, several times, he'd drag one or the other of us by hand to the houses, chortling and signing his demands to start now!

Magic...he remembered.

Tradition...ours.

***

As you may know, I've also two beloved but long-distance stepchildren.  We continue to make every effort to include them in our traditions, which can be challenging from 8 hours away.  Last year, I was delighted to find a few of these wooden forest advent calendar sets. On the first day, you open the tree...and then each day's door contains a woodland animal to either put in the tree or around it. The final day, of course, contained the tree-topping star.  We sent one to my stepchildren, and kept one each for the boys, so that every day at "generally" the same time, we could all open them together.

This year, I've used the pieces from the set in our holiday decorating, and every time I look up and see them, I think fondly of my stepchildren...just another layer of warm and cozy moments made memory...made history...made tradition.

...in a nutshell...

 There are, as I'm reminded daily, many challenges unique to raising children 17 years apart, particularly when their specific needs are often in conflict with one another.  I find myself torn in two, more often than not, trying to determine which calamity-in-the-works takes priority in the moment.  One son needs my firm guidance and reassuring support.  The other needs energetic response and creativity.  My moments of failure have been frequent and epic, but in the last little while, I've found myself growing into this season of motherhood a bit more gracefully.
A moment's pause...a hand held up in acknowledgement...a cycle of deep breaths in and out...and the shift from one mode to another is becoming streamlined.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

This family is the miracle I thought had already passed me by.

(Though, I'd gladly accept a few extra hours to take the edge off of my ever-growing sleep deficit!)

Now perhaps it's just the holiday-magic at play...and I'm fine with that. 
I needed it this year more than ever before.
The sharing of traditions that I first created for my eldest, while in the throes of single-motherhood, is somehow...restorative.

I've only touched on it in fits and starts here on the blog, but both being an adoptee and having had a marriage that didn't 'succeed' (which meant our family was broken) really motivated me to try to create family traditions.  I was bound and determined to give my eldest son a feeling of family history...fill him so chock-full of our own created customs that he'd never feel the lack of a father or siblings, or of extended family.

I worked hard at it.  Channeling my natural creativity into making celebrations of everyday moments and staying up late setting up treasure hunts and writing lunchnote poems. 
I worked hard at it for years.  And then, high school arrived on scene, and I felt a sense of ending.
Bittersweet.  My traditions no longer needed. His, still to come.
 

And then came Henri.  Not a fresh start, but a natural continuation.  (What a strange way to define a child...ha!)  And family tradition suddenly so much more meaningful as it grew to include Henri and my partner.

Family traditions that I had created out of desperation, while enduring some of my worst moments, now bringing me back to my core...bringing out the best in me.

Relaxing. Reminding.

Restoring.

~~~

All this above, long-winded and rambling as ever, to get to this below...

~~~

One of our favorite holiday traditions has gotten a bit of a remix, since Henri was born.

Crèche in a Walnut

For most of Johannes' school years, he could count on the re-emergence of this little ornament bright and early, on December 1st.  Finding it, wherever I had tucked it away, was the trick...and the treat, a cookie for breakfast on a special holiday plate, made for a frantic hunt every morning.

And years and years of my ever-upping the ante...

trying in vain to find places to hide it... 

that would challenge him...

and chew up enough time...

for me to get breakfast on the table!

Come Henri's first Christmas season, I was running on fumes and the last thing I wanted to add to my plate was baking cookies for that plate. Ha!  So, I sternly talked myself into "outsourcing"...and the result was a win on all fronts.  Instead of fresh-baked cookies, both boys could look forward to their pick of a Lindt Lindor Truffle, from the special bowl, if one or the other (or the darling duo) happened to come across the Crèche in a Walnut in their daily path of destruction. 

Last year I made a bit more a production out of it with a defined time to hunt.

 

This year, I'm taking advantage of my insomniac-schedule and hiding it in the dark...leaving the all-day window for whoever finds it first.  Henri, having spent every day looking for "Chickaletta for Chocaletta"...

(same premise, different stowaway) 

...since last December, is giving Johannes a run for his...chocolate!

Maybe someday, I'll bring it back down to its humble beginnings and prep the cookie batter for early morning baking again, but for now, this one's a win in my book.

And theirs!

...what a gift to be gifted...

 I know, I know...there are those of you who've had your holiday shopping done since early fall.  And to you I say...leave, leave here now...we can never be friends. (I kid, I kid!) But really, who are you and how are you? Because I can't even think about Christmas until Thanksgiving dishes have been washed, dried, and packed away 'til next year.  In fact, in our little family, the traditional response to requests for wishlists is "No thinking about what you want, until you've first expressed gratitude for what you have".  Read also: "You know the drill.  We don't make wishlists until Thanksgiving is over."

And sure enough, come Friday morning, we're all scrolling away at our screens, cornbread leftovers reimagined as breakfast, condensing our hearts' desires into lists of 10 or less.

So good for you if your shopping is done and already wrapped or in the mail. You've avoided the hustle and bustle...the chaos and crowds.  You're probably reading this with a hefty dose of self-satisfaction...and a planner all filled, in ink no less.
Good for you.

Enjoy the peace and quiet and self-adulation.

~~~

This post? Is for the rest of us.

And it's chock full of great ideas...from my friends and acquaintances-some fabulously talented crafters. writers and artisans who have brought their passion projects to life!

From charming crafts and creations...to the best of baked goods...read on through to find some wonderful ideas to gift and to receive this year!

May all our holidays be as magical as Henri's first Christmas

Festive Food Gifts:

Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream: a family favorite going all the way back to my single-mom days in Ohio. We regularly gift multi-pint deliveries to family and friends in need of a pick-me-up.  With local, quality ingredients and decadent flavors made-from-scratch, this is gift-worthy ice cream at its best.  The customer service has always been top notch, and shipments are packed for perfect delivery...even in summer...ask me how I know!

***

For those more local, there's the Blue Sheep Bake Shop:  This bakery is a winner.  Just ask the Food Network!  With cases full of specialty cakes, cupcakes, cookies and macarons, you're sure to find something to hit the spot here.  Go for the cupcakes, stay for the gluten-free offerings, and don't forget to try the new house-made artisan ice cream.  One for them, two for you-this gift is sweet!

***

Make every holiday morning a touch cozier by gifting stroopwafels from Stroopies. This is a real "gift good, do good".  This Lancaster, Pennsylvannia company was founded for and continues to provide meaningful employment to resettled refugee women. We stumbled across them years ago now, at a Christmas market and their fabulous, gluten-free options have become a year-round staple in our home.  My eldest son always always ALWAYS put these on his wishlist.

***

For The Chef:

A many-years acquaintance of mine who runs the popular food blog Healthy Delicious is helping us all make magic in the kitchen with her fantastic line of cookbooks, available in both print and kindle editions.  Available here, or you can go one step further in spreading some holiday cheer, and order them through your own local bookstore...both your recipient and your small-business bookstore will be delighted!

***

Gifts with he(ART) and soul:

No gift list is complete without uniquely crafted creations, and you needn't look any further than My Warriors Designs for all your custom needs. This small business is a true labor of love, for my dear friend Cassie.  When her twins were born, extremely premature at 25 weeks, she desperately needed an outlet for the anxiety and PTSD of that trauma,and found it by channeling that energy into her love of crafting.  My Warriors Designs honors her two youngest, one autistic and the other diagnosed with cerebral palsy, epilepsy, multiloculated hydrocephalus and autonomic dysfunction. As she says "I create for them. I create for me."  Let her create for you, as well, and make your gifting this holiday part of a beautiful story of hope, endurance, and the indomitable spirit of motherhood.  You'll find all manner of customizable items in her shop and be sure to follow along socials as well, for shop updates and limited product offerings.

 

***

The son of a former teacher of my son (how's that for a mouthful) can cover your gift and giftwrap needs in one with Shymask Studios woodcraft designs and treasure boxes.

***

Speaking of former teachers...Amy Jensen's got a book, or two (or  three!) for you!  Her Chuckie the Chocolate Lab series is sure to please dog-lovers of every age, with a focus on social-emotional learning for youngsters.  A book and a friend to read it with?  Sounds like a win/win!

And while we're on the subject of kids and friends...I've a friend whose kid just opened up shop! Check out Morin's Clay Shop for some adorable, handcrafted jewelry just perfect for stocking stuffers or the little girls in your life. Inventory is running blissfully low, but there's more to come with the holiday break coming up!

No gift guide of mine would e'er be complete if I didn't include my own kid!  You've seen me raving about his creativity for years. So you just know I have to (no, really, it's in the contract!) plug for his business here.  Honestly, though, it's an easy shill!  My eldest son's passion project and the business he began in middle school, Terminus Industries, houses both his love of all things Transformers and his heart for advocating for inclusion and acceptance as an autistic.  Offered across multiple platforms, shop for custom-designed Transformers figures, buildable kits, as well as a variety of custom-requested designs.  Or, send him a direct message about creating your own custom 3D printed solution, what ever it may be.  Additionally, be sure to check out his direct-to-order December offering, custom snowflake ornaments for decorating or gift tagging!

Yep!  Being my child affords you special treatment,
like getting your product photo in my post!

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Dazzling Delights:

For those at the top of your "Nice List" this year, might I suggest going for the razzle-dazzle and gifting a future heirloom from another longtime acquaintance's Blue Piranha Jewelry.  Taking a bit of a departure here to drop my own wishlisted item from the Etsy Shop:

This stunning Pegasus pendant that literally embodies my story.

Jill has redefined 'everyday elegance' with stunning craftsmanship, attention to both detail and history, and an unmatched talent for highlighting the natural beauty of the gemstones and precious metals she works with.  A winning lotto ticket (I'd have to actually pay to play, though!) and I'd help myself to each of her sterling pendants! Truly, a piece (or two!) for every woman in your life!

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Other notables

A few final recommendations by way of some of our favorite things:

Bavarian-style roasted nuts (Bavarian-style roasted almonds, walnuts, pecans, and more. and butter toffee roasted nuts) make for a great hostess gift.  Order one to give, and one to snack from while wrapping.

Know a frustrated home-cook dealing with dietary restrictions?  The gluten-free, dairy-free, paleo cookbooks from Danielle Walker's Against All Grain are a family favorite with delectable twists on old standards and creative cuisine.

...welcome, december...

 Oh, December, how I've needed you!

I watched the glow of numbers on the clock beside my bed last night, waiting for them to turn autumn into a memory.  A sigh of relief as midnight swept the slate clean.  I settled, and drifted off.

Henri fretted early, burrowing into me as he grumbled awake. We quietly rearranged, sitting up and wrapping ourselves cozy in the blanket, to watch the view out the window as we do every morning before everyone else wakes up.  Henri is a big fan of the sky show.  His eyes light up, reflecting the sparks on the horizon, and he positively buzzes with excitement as the sunrise flares up.  When the light finally reaches the branches outside our window, he burbles his delight. 

Yesterday, the sun never rose.
We watched, in dissatisfaction as the sky just slowly shifted from black to gray.

Yesterday was fall.

Today, though...

Today is December.

I've been waiting for December.

Waiting for a fresh calendar page, and the promise of fresh-fallen snow it will likely bring

Waiting for the holly, and the jolly that we find in our holiday rituals.

Waiting to swap out Paw Patrol and Curious George books for stories older and deeper, rich with reminders of how loved we are. 

I've kept my head down through all that fall threw at me (down, and ducked, trying to avoid it) and held onto the hope that December was on the way.

Here it is.

And just like the sky this morning, everything feels lighter.

It's bright, with the promise of family traditions and memories to build on.

It's comforting, with familiar spices and flavors.

It's full of surprises and sweets, from treasured decorations tucked away from toddler fingers, to secret elfkin messages on teeny tiny scrolls in the advent calenders...leading my boys on treasure hunts.

It's full of quiet moments, with cocoa or a cookie, basking in the glow of the tree or marveling at the snowflakes as they tumble down.

It's full of music, carols and chorales, and if I'm lucky as in years passed...a cello picking out my favorites as I sing along.

It's cold outside and warm inside.

It's hot ovens and piping kettles and cozy blankets as we watch old classics and Dr. Who.

December, somehow, makes these walls home.