Christmas is soon upon us, and I can’t wait for it to be even sooner this year. Ever since I told Polina about Christmas and, more specifically, Santa Claus, I’ve been hearing almost daily, multiple times per day, “I want Santa.” “Santa is coming. He’s going to put presents under the Christmas tree.” “I want Christmas.” And variations thereof. Every day Polina reminds me of Christmas, and I couldn’t be happier that she loves the holiday as much as I do. More
Our Sunday began as any ordinary day. My daughter woke me up at 7:45 am. I gave her a bath and we went through our normal routine to get ready for the day. I made breakfast, washed the dishes, and did three loads of laundry. At 11 am, my friend from Russia skyped me. The previous day was May 9, “Den Pobedy” or Victory Day, which is a huge holiday over there. I congratulated him on the defeat of Hitler.
“We couldn’t have won the war without you,” I said.
Because there is no Mother’s Day holiday in Russia, I didn’t receive any recognition. At that moment, I had a thought: “what is more important, the defeat of Hitler or Mother’s Day?” I sided with Hitler’s defeat, and it made me feel slightly better.
While I was doing my chores, Peter worked on his car. We had planned to take a trip to Big Four Mountain. He changed the oil, cleaned the air filter, replaced the brake and power steering fluids and added transmission fluid. Frankly, he did stuff I don’t know how to do, so I’m grateful that one of us knows how to do these things. He thanked me for the breakfast, and when he saw me skyping with my friend, asked if we could skype with his mother.
“Aha,” I thought. “He is going to mention Mother’s Day.”
Once we connected, he took my laptop to the backyard to show her our blooming rhododendrons.
I decided to take a shower. How could he remember his own mother and not wish me a Happy Mother’s Day?
The ride to Big Four Mountain was uneventful. There was no mention of Mother’s Day. We passed some landmarks that reminded me of a time several years ago when Pete and I rode in on his motorcycle. We got off at a spot and Pete insisted I ride his motorcycle by myself on a portion of the road leading to the park. I didn’t even have a license to ride a motorcycle, nor was I comfortable with the weight of his bike. He was so insistent, I caved in, and I hated him for it the whole time. I was never so happy to reach the halfway point and turn around. I was happy I pulled back into the parking lot alive.
We were getting closer to the park entrance and there was still no mention of Mother’s Day.
Pete had been talking about visiting Big Four Mountain for several weeks now. Our weekends have been busy, but I decided to accommodate his wishes.
He never even asked me what I wanted to do for Mother’s Day.
By the time we got to the park, the thoughts in my head put me into a bad mood. The plan was to have a picnic together before walking to the ice caves. When he opened my side of the door, I told him I wanted to rest in the car.
He responded, “I need your help carrying the supplies.”
He only needs me to carry the supplies.
Pete took Polina to have a picnic.
Great, they’re having a picnic without me on Mother’s Day. Just my luck.
When Pete came back and asked again what was wrong, this time, I told him directly. To my surprise, he apologized, said he has been self-absorbed recently, and wished me a Happy Mother’s Day. He said he had intended to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day at the picnic.
And just like that, the weight was lifted. The day was salvaged and we had one of the best days of our lives this year. Since we got a later start, there were fewer people at the ice caves, and we had the entire picnic area to ourselves on the way back. (He told me he just hung out with Polina and that they hadn’t eaten without me.) We watched a robin look for worms, some small black birds (sparrows? starlings?) zig zag in the air looking for insects, and on the way out of the park, several deer jump across the road. It was a lovely evening.
We still have some challenges ahead of us and are by no means out of the woods, but I am so grateful we were able to have a nice day and spend quality time together as a family.
Here are some pictures from our trip.
In preparation for Easter, I bought plastic eggs, purple papered grass, and, of course, a basket. Because that’s what Easter is about, right?
For our family, since we’re not religious, that is what it is about. More
Valentine’s Day was pretty uneventful this year, as stark contrast from prior years. When my husband and I were dating, we would make it into a special day or evening. He would bring home flowers, a card, chocolates…. We would brave the traffic on the streets and the crowds in the restaurants, have a nice meal and end the evening with a nice movie. More
Of all the New Year’s Eves in my life, since I was about eight, this one was the most lackluster. I can’t believe it’s 2015 as I’m writing this. I initially started to write “December” thinking the holidays haven’t come yet. Nope, they’ve passed, like a climax that’s all of a sudden over. I feel deflated.
The night of New Year’s Eve, which is normally a day of excitement for me, I lay next to Polina as I do every night waiting for her to fall asleep. I heard some sporadic fireworks in our typically sleepy neighborhood. Waiting for Polina to fall asleep, I knew I was going to sleep myself, like someone knowing they’re going under anesthesia. The last thing I remember is the sound of a muted firework. When I woke up, it was dark and silent, and I knew New Year’s was over. My husband didn’t even wake me up.
“What did you do last night?” I asked him in the morning.
“Worked on the computer.”
“You didn’t celebrate New Year’s?”
“Just another day,” he casually responded.
Indeed, we behaved as though it was any other day. We didn’t even wish each other “Happy New Year.” On my end, I didn’t want to jinx it. I’ve said “Happy New Year” for as long as I can remember, and what has come of it? I needed a clean slate.
Every year since I could remember I sent well wishes to my friends for good things in the New Year. I got emails and cards wishing me the same. And yet, as I look over the trajectory of my life, I got slammed. We got slammed. The optimism of the new year turned dark. Like a newborn that becomes a fussy baby, or a demanding toddler, or a rebellious teenager. Next thing you know your kid is crying on the phone about something and you think why did it have to go wrong? What happened to that peaceful newborn you held in your arms? That’s how the New Year has become for me- full of optimism (that I now see as hype) followed by disappointment (which I now see as business as usual.)
When I heard about the shootings in France, I didn’t even think about the new year. When I was a kid, it was usually conflict in the Middle East that dampened the good spirits of the new year. This time, it didn’t enter my mind. I saw it as just the world we’re living in. How jaded I’ve become.
We need a good year. It has been a while.
