Up Before the Dawn

It is still dark outside, I have a fresh cup of coffee beside me and the house is quiet. It might be the perfect beginning of the perfect day. The potential is there. Nothing stands in my way. Like Chicken Little, I feel like reciting "today is a new day." I'll take a sip of coffee now and listen to the voices in my head... relax.

Way too much to do this morning; more than most do their entire day. Well, maybe not, but by nine tonight I'll be wiped out. Relax. What can I do today that will make this day different than those I've had for the past several months? Stop thinking. Stop worrying. Stop wondering. And dammit, stop regretting.

Christmas is coming up. I have no desire to celebrate it. I am going through the motions, the false smiles for the kids, reading them Christmas stories, making a Gingerbread house, getting them presents. But I'm not excited about the holiday this year - the pomp and circumstance of it. If I could I would forego the gift giving, the merriment and just concentrate on the meaning of the holiday by going to church and celebrating the birth of Jesus. I wouldn't mind slinking into my bed until it's all over either. Yet, the excitement of the kids over jolly old St. Nick will not allow this. And maybe that is how it is supposed to be. Every other year, I am the kid digging candy canes, wearing Santa hats, wrapping presents and wanting to give and give and give... excited to see everyone open their gifts. Maybe this year, I am supposed to just observe. I guess it's all a choice. I can choose to be depressed about this holiday, or I can embrace my grief and just trudge through it, celebrating the moment.

Paige is up now. She walked into my bedroom, a blankie slung on one arm, holding her stuffed Eeyore in the crook of the arm that has the thumb she's stuffed in her mouth. She was crying, "I had a bad dream Mommy. I dreamed that super hero Paige couldn't find her crayons and she was frustrated." (Yeah, she's only four, but her vocabulary is amazing, thanks to her mommy!) I pulled her onto my lap in this desk chair and held her. Then I whispered in her ear, "Mommy had a bad dream too." She pulled back and looked into my eyes and said, "What did you dream?" I answered, sweetly as I brushed the hair back from her face, "I had a dreamed I pooped in the bed." She giggled, then laughed, then put her head back on my chest, relaxed again. And that is a great way to start the morning.