The 13th Gift

It wasn't that long ago that I would spend Christmas all alone.  It wasn't easy and it sure as heck wasn't fun.  The very first Christmas that I spent alone was the one after my divorce.  I was working 40 hours a week, deep in debt and had two cats for company.  I thought it would be the only Christmas I would ever have to spend alone so I made the best of it.  I put up a tree and decorated my parents' house.  They had fled the cold weather for warmer climates and I was wishing I had gone with them.  But for me the cold was a refresher; a new start.

Not only was I going through a divorce but I had also broken up with the boyfriend that I had just begun a relationship with two month previous.  It would have been nice to not have to spend the holidays alone but it wasn't in the cards.

Things could only get better I thought.  Well I was wrong and they only got worse.  But that part of my life has been discussed to death and most of you know that at the last day of that monumental year of my life I was raped.    I would not be getting much in the way of happy gifts of friends and family in my first year of being single.  No it would be another year before I was enfolded in the happiness of a new family.

The following year I had much to be happy for.  I was in a solid relationship, my divorce was final, and I was part of a new family or would be in the years to follow when I married into the clan.  I wouldn't spend another Christmas alone or at least I had hoped for a long time to come.

Six years passed and I was spending my first Christmas alone in a new state.  I wasn't able to drive the distance to see my husband's family.  I didn't have a cat or dog now.  I was alone.  But I kept with me the spirit of Christmas.

That year I decorated our first house.  Paper chains, snowflakes, ornaments, the tree and stockings.  I made sure the world that looked in my window knew I wasn't going to be depressed.  Christmas Eve, though I had purchased most of my own gifts, I opened the presents that I had wrapped for myself.  I realize this sounds a bit pathetic but it wasn't.  I knew that half way around the world my husband and his battle buddies, fighting for another country's freedom, would be getting into their Christmas stockings.  Hand selected toys and candy were individually wrapped and put into stockings I purchased for them.  If they had to spend Christmas away from their families at least they would know that someone back home was thinking of them too.

The next morning, Christmas morning, I got up bright and early and plugged in the lights for the tree.  Within minutes the calls started to ring my phone that would keep the season merry.  First Mom, then L and finally at last the most important one from J.  His phone call lasted just five minutes but it was the most cherished gift.  More nourishing than any Christmas ham because this five minute call nourished my brain.

This year my husband will spend Christmas with family, his family and mine because they are mine too.  This year we have a baby to bring home with us and our beloved cat Bugsy the stray that is no longer a stray.  My heart over fills with love this year as it does every year whether together or apart for I always try to keep the spirit of the season alive.

This post was inspired by The 13th Gift by Joanne Huist Smith, memoir about how  random acts of kindness transformed her family’s bereavement and grief during the holidays. Join From Left to Write on October 28th as we discuss The 13th Gift. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

The Dawning of a Better Day

Last night I pulled myself out of my funk.  I knew that it was again up to me to change the outlook on my own life.  It isn't all that bad I said to myself.  So what if my spouse can't handle work stress.  He isn't the only GI out there fighting the same fight and I'm not the only spouse out there with the same issues.

I know how much my husband loves pizza.  Last night when he called to say he wouldn't be home at the usual time I told him it was okay.  He doesn't like how I'm okay with him not being home on time.  He has said to me before that he doesn't understand how I can be so understanding of his work.  I tell him it isn't that I'd not like to rant and rave but that there is absolutely nothing I can do about his work schedule but accept it.  And that is what I do folks; I accept his work schedule since I can't change. So I decided to make him a special meal.

When he got home, near enough to 8 PM for me to call it 2000 hrs here, I asked him if he'd like his very own pizza for dinner.  He was surprised that I was willing to make it for him.  I explained that it won't be my own homemade sauce and dough but that I have a bottle of pizza sauce on hand and some Pillsbury dough.  He was okay with that.  I handed him over our daughter, she had just been fed and burped but didn't want a nap.  I chopped and diced and sliced up his favorite ingredients while the crust with some Italian seasoning was baking in the oven.  When the pre-cooking part was done I topped it and baked it again.  He was very appreciative especially since I got him a tv tray and he was able to watch a program on the television while being waited on.

I know that he hasn't been getting all the attention he would like of late.  I told him as much.  I said that I don't get attention from him either.  We realize that Little E comes first.  It is only for the first year or so that she needs so much attention and over the next few months it will be less so than it was the first month and so on until she is able to feed herself from the foods I give her.  For now she still needs all the attention that is normal for a 3 month old.  I remind him and myself that we made the same demands upon our parents too.

This morning my spouse helped me back to bed once he realized I was sleep walking and sleep talking again.  Ugh, I really detest PTSD.  Once I got back in bed I woke up and he told me what happened again.  I guess this morning I really seemed coherent up to the point where I asked him to take the baby from me and I wasn't holding her as she was in her crib.  He then knew I was sleep walking and talking.  I'm so afraid something is going to happen to my daughter that every night I go looking for her in our bed, frightened when I can't find, then wake up to realize this is the very reason why I refuse to co-sleep.  Imagine if I had one of those nightmares with her in the bed?  I'm afraid I end up flipping her out of the bed by accident.

I got up a bit late this morning and was giving Little E a bottle at 0628 hrs; still half an hour before the Itzbeen timer of 5 hours went off but that is just a reminder alarm for me if she hasn't fussed for a feeding beforehand.  When I got into the kitchen I noticed that J had cleaned up his morning mess, washed out Bugsy's wet food dish, and replaced the dish towels too.  That made my morning happy.  Well that and the fact I was able to sneak in a shower and write up this blog post.

I'll leave all of you with a photo and video.

This is a paw print of Bugsy and a hand print of Little E along with a shell I got on the beach in WA.  My little souvenirs of my time there.

Little E is learning to sit up for longer than a few seconds now.  I'm sure she would have stayed up longer if it hadn't of been for the coughing that started.  All that drooling from teething she does and sometimes she sucks it back down the throat.