Proof That I'm Insane

A miracle happened today. It's only December 14th, and I mailed my Christmas cards today! I dropped them into the box outside the post office at approximately 8:57 a.m. this morning after dropping my daughter off at school. How is this a miracle, you may be wondering??

I love the ritual of Christmas cards. Ever since I was a kid; my parents used to get tons of Christmas cards every year when my dad still worked for the Herald Examiner. Back then, cards were more glamourous than they are today. They were mini works of art; beautiful Christmas landscapes filled with snow, beautifully decorated homes, all resounding with the peace and love of home and family. My mom would tape each one up just tilted every-so-slightly, equi-distant apart from one another, displayed on the coat closet door--in the living room--the first place you'd see it when you entered the room. I wasn't big enough to reach the top cards, but from my small stature I'd revel in the beauty of them as they glimmered in the light. I didn't recognize any of the names of course; I had no idea who any of these people were that were sending all these beautiful cards. I wanted to meet them. They were secret, magical mystical people my dad worked with at his secret, magical, mystical desk in some building somewhere in Los Angeles. It was all very exciting to a small child like me.

Is it any wonder I am just like my mother now with the whole Christmas card business?? I have taken over where she's left off. My parents have been retired for some time; the lovely Christmas cards they used to receive trickled off when my dad was laid off in 1975. In her hurt and dismay, my mother retorted that if they had been "real friends" the cards would still be coming. I didn't know what to do with that.

So here I am, many many years later, stressing myself out trying to get my Christmas cards out before they should actually say, "Happy Easter".  It's all self-induced. I know that. I can't help myself.

I used to do individual Christmas cards, you know, the boxed kind. I felt that a person's choice of a Christmas card said a lot about them, so I took great pains to choose boxed cards that reflected my personality, or rather, our personality as a family. I didn't really care for the religious ones or the Norman Rockwell artsy kind but rather the humorous ones, poking fun at either Santa or his reindeer--you know, the kind you love to get. A card that makes you laugh. That's me. I usually bought them around Thanksgiving, eager to get started. I'd usually do the envelopes first; the boring part. Then, one by one, I'd not only write "Love and God Bless, the Kuckelman's", but I'd write a mini-biography of our year in each one. We have moved so many times, and we have family and friends strewn all over the globe, and honestly, the only communication we have with some of them is the annual Christmas card tradition. Of course I was so worried I'd turn into one of those braggy moms and yes, I admit, I am. Hey, it comes with being a parent, and I'm so lucky to say I've got the kind of kids worth bragging about. Not every parent can say that. But the newsletter is only the beginning.

Don't forget the most important missing ingredient--the ultimate Christmas family photo.

We had a ritual for about ten years, since the year Ian was born, to have a professional sitting once a year. I'd happily schedule it for the Saturday BEFORE Thanksgiving, before the onslaught. I was so proud of myself. My husband would sulk and my toddlers would throw tantrums and I'd ignore their pleas for mercy and trudge us all into the photo studio year after year. I told them, "you'll thank me someday." (still waiting). But the year we stopped was the year the photos turned out absolutely frightening--I think they started hiring unqualified temporary workers for the holidays and I was mortified. I refused to pay for them and gave them back; bawling, I instructed them to just throw them in the trash. I resisted telling them what I REALLY thought of their skills as photographers.

So it became my duty to take our OWN perfect Christmas family photo every year! This was the beginning of the digital age, and it honestly couldn't have been more perfect timing. Instead of an expensive and angry family outing, we had an inexpensive and angry family afternoon trying to capture a harmonious photo of the four of us here at home. Last year was my favorite. Having just moved to Wisconsin from a lifetime of sunny California, I fantasized about a photo of the four of us standing by snowman we'd made ourselves. The snow obliged, but no one told me that Wisconsin snow is too soft to make into snowballs let alone snowmen. All dressed up for the picture and freezing in the frigid air, we were exhausted and my family was beyond annoyed with me. I settled for a pic of the four of us standing in our backyard, snow up to our ankles, taken by a little friend of my daughter's. It was dusk, and we ended up looking more of a silhouette. You couldn't really see our faces, no matter how hard I tried to Photoshop it. It was exasperating. Once again, self-induced. I realize this.

Doing this was so tedious, my Christmas cards never went out before Christmas Eve. It just took too damn long.  Between hand-writing each and every card and the pursuit of the perfect Norman Rockwell family photo, I got wise. Not only did I start writing a newsletter about 5 years ago, this year I didn't require my family to get together for a photo. Yes, it's been sad, sad defeat for me; we can't get all four of us together for even one picture a year. This year I decided I'd scroll through all the pictures on my computer from the year and find of of the four of us and use it, like many people do. We didn't take any vacations, so none there. I was saddened to realize there was not ONE photo of all four of us taken the entire year!!! So what the hell was I going to do?!!?! MAKE A PHOTO COLLAGE, THAT'S WHAT!!!!!

There were so many good pics to choose from, I actually made 2 collages. My husband shrieked at my insanity. "You can't send out two sheets of pictures!" he scolded me. "But I can't decide which ones to delete!" I shrieked back at him. I sighed a big huge sigh, and realized that if I made the pics really small I could fit them all on one sheet!! I was so happy!! Hahaha WINNING!!!!!!!

But my perfect plan hit a snag. I had all the envelopes made out in red Sharpie (festive yes?), actual Christmas stamps (some Hanukkah ones for the Jews in my family. Perfectionist here!), custom Christmas family address labels with our likeness (leftover from last year, thankfully we didn't move again), and cute little stickers on the backs of the envelopes. I sought and sought for the perfect newsletter paper to print them on--40 sheets for about $10.  I STUPIDLY BOUGHT EXACTLY THE AMOUNT THAT I THOUGHT I'D NEED. And lo and behold, wouldn't you know, after printing 20 perfect copies, the ink started to run out and ruined about 20 of the remaining sheets I had. I was distraught of course. Ruined!!! What was I to do?? I didn't have time to go all the way back to Office Max and buy more paper and with my luck, they'd be out of them anyway. So.....I looked and looked online for free borders for paper to make my own. Sure, they'll be different from the rest I'd already printed out, but I was okay with that. As long as they were festive. No boring plain paper for this girl!!! Well guess what?? There weren't any free ones. I am too cheap to even pay a dollar. And now it's December 13th. What was I willing to do?? Time is running out. I want to get these f***ing Christmas cards mailed NOW!!!!!!!

As I drove my daughter to school, went to the gym, and thought about the newsletters that still needed to be printed on my fantasy perfectly festive paper that was expensive and unattainable, I decided to make peace with PLAIN OLD WHITE PAPER. Yes, the bane of my existence--the proof that a person has absolutely NO imagination whatsoever---plain, old, boring, white printer paper.

I've made peace with myself over this. I think about the time and money I've saved, and I've made the best of a bad situation. Even though I was armed with enough replacement ink cartridges to furnish my daughter's school to avoid precisely what ended up happening because I got distracted. The ink ran out, and sparsely inked hieiogyphic ruined Christmas newsletter paper. I relented and used plain old boring white paper for the 25 or so newsletters left just to get them done. I stand accused, tried, and convicted. I sobbed quietly while folding them with my perfect collage into my perfectly addressed envelopes. I just somehow feel like I've let them down.

I gave myself a cheerful little pep-talk about how happy my friends and family will be to receive my newsletter and photo collage, and probably won't even notice the paper isn't Christmas-y. I know, I know, many of you will open the envelope and shriek, "HER NEWSLETTER IS ON PLAIN, OLD, BORING WHITE PAPER! DOESN'T SHE HAVE ANY IMAGINATION AT ALL?? JEEZ!!' And yes, I have to live with that.

And some of you won't even get one. In the move here, I can't find my Official Christmas Card Address List. I'm sorry. I really am. I hope you'll still send me a card so I can send you one back. There's still time!!

Those of you that got the Christmas-y newsletter paper know that you got the best I had to offer. The rest of you, my condolences. I hope you can see past this omission of character and forgive me.

At least I can brag that you got it before Easter.

Contempt or Comfort? It's All in the Eye of the Beholder

"Familiarity Breeds Contempt", goes the old saying, and certainly I can agree it sometimes rings true. I know that before we moved all the way from Reedley,  California to Hartland, Wisconsin, I was sick and tired of driving down a particular road called Manning. Manning was the main artery that connected little Reedley to big-city Fresno and beyond. It was 12 miles down Manning to get to the freeway. It was another 15 miles via freeway to get to Target, the mall, decent restaurants, and nightlife. You can imagine how many times we went down that 12-mile stretch over the course of the 8 years we lived there. 

Additionally, to get to our kids' elementary school, we had to drive down Manning. About 2 miles. Not far, but a quick calculation of the back-and-forth from home to school multiplied by eight years and yes, you have contempt.  I loved that their school was so close, but there was really only one way to get there, and yes, it involved Manning. 

When our son got to high school, Manning became a street that was basically a skip-and-a-jump over to get to the street it was actually on. It was such a nice diversion! And of course, having one kid in elementary and the other in high school, there was a new back-and-forth routine, picking one kid up and driving to get the other kid at the new school location.

I remember the day we left Reedley, we were so sad, recalling all the things we were going to miss. Our friends---numero uno. Our beloved house. Tied for numero uno. Our favorite breakfast spot--Main Street Cafe. The donut shop, "Donuts to Go", cute little downtown Reedley, the annual Christmas and pet parades. The things we were going to miss were so numerous. To break the sadness and tension, I said to my family as we drove out of town, "I am NOT going to miss driving down Manning! If I ever drive down Manning again I'll stab myself!!" and we all laughed in agreement. Yet when we visited over Christmas, we drove once again down that bedeviled street. It was wistful, not contemptuous. 

We have been in Wisconsin now for five months and two days, and we have yet to feel the "contempt" that too much familiarity breeds. We have our morning routines down, but we see new things every trip. Just this morning my son noticed all the icicles hanging from everyone's roof eves. We commented that people in Wisconsin don't hang Christmas icicle lights because----they have REAL ICICLES!!!  My husband has learned several new ways to get around our little town, so that too breaks the monotony. We have eaten out quite a few times, but nothing has stuck in our craw as a favorite yet like our Main Street Cafe did, or Jon's Bear Club, or The Pub, or Valentino's. Nope. We are trying though, you gotta give us that. There is a pizza place that we've been to twice, and we like it. Maybe eventually it'll replace our Valentino's but you can't force that sort of warm fuzzy no matter how hard you want to feel it. It something that just happens, like a mad crush that comes out of nowhere, or a favorite song. When you feel it, you just know it's right.

We do feel an affinity for our gym---we go often enough to feel comfortable but for Tim and me, we still don't know a soul here. It's really a strange and lonely feeling to never see a familiar face wherever you go. When we were back visiting Reedley over Christmas, I'd barely gotten out of my car to go to CVS when I heard, "LAUREN!!!!!!" I bumped into people I knew everywhere. (Most of whom were confused as to where I'd been the last 5 months they hadn't seen me). You know, acquaintances but not friends who get used to your mug in their daily lives, and you get used to theirs. You don't know their names, but you probably know their kids' names. You sat side-by-side at endless Little League games, and school fundraisers. That's what I miss the most having moved 1500 miles away. The friendly wave when you drive by, and boasting about your kids' grade point average to someone who knows how hard your kid really worked for it, because they've known them since they were knee-high to a grasshopper.

I know it wasn't always like this. When my husband's job moved us to Reedley in 2002, we didn't know a soul then either. I think I pouted then too,  but I'd dug my heels in and got involved in the kids' school. I volunteered in their classrooms, and started the chess club. I was there almost as much as the kids were! I've been a lucky stay-at-home mom for more than 14 years now, so I was able to do all that. I even became a substitute teacher! I was a friendly, reliable, semi-permanent fixture at their elementary school.

Well, Jenni's a middle-schooler now, and Ian's a high school sophomore, so the days of helping in their classrooms is long over. I'm glad I did it then, but how do I make friends now? How do I stay involved now? It's much more difficult, and the first semester has ended and I still don't know anyone here. My kids are doing great---they have settled in and adapted amazingly well. I'm so happy for them.

So, what about me? I'm the new person, the one with the funny accent (hahah, that's funny). I'm the one that's too loud, dresses too differently, wears too much glittery jewelry. I am irritated time and again over how different and new everything is, and I have trouble keeping my mouth shut. Everyone seems to know one another and that's a lonely feeling.  I'm the one that has suddenly become shy because I feel so different. I keep to myself but sometimes I get so lonely I just talk to anyone and everyone. I've noticed how quiet and boring most people here live---and I enjoy being the life of the party. I don't care if people talk about me behind my back---as long as they're talking about me!!

I'm taking private vocal lessons, and my teacher is amazing. Hopefully Tim and I will put a new band together and start performing again. Breaking up our band was really the hardest part of leaving  Reedley. Baseball season will be sad for Ian's former team without him; the boys have all played together for six years. We thought that when we moved away, WE were the ones who suffered the most, but in seeing friends and family again, we realized that our absence left a hole in their lives as well. I hadn't thought of that.

The familiarity of friendships and shared experiences breeds not contempt, but comfort.