A little child
a shining star
a stable rude,
the door ajar.
Yet in that place
so crude, forlorn,
The Hope of all
the world was born.
--Anonymous
Saturday, December 24
Tuesday, December 20
The Carol from Downstairs
I am sick again. The kind of sick that, for me, lasts about nine months or so.
Last week, at the end of a particularly sick-feeling day, my husband arrived home and sent me to bed. He would see our busy little family through dinner, swim practice and the rest of the chaos that comes with four little girls in our little yellow house.
As I laid in bed trying to quiet my queasy stomach and calm my aching head, I listened to my family carry on the evening one floor beneath me.
I heard my husband in the kitchen making dinner for our children, talking with them about their days. I heard my daughters answer, taking turns, interrupting, and all the while helping daddy to make dinner and continue their play all at the same time. I heard the baby, recent crawler that she is, make her way around the rooms, babbling, shouting and shrieking in order to be heard, not to be left out of the fray.
All the noise didn't seem like noise, but rather parts of a song being sung. I could see the glow from the candles in all the windows, and the warmth of the colored lights on our Christmas tree making its way up the stairs. A song, a carol, a Christmas carol.
Last week, at the end of a particularly sick-feeling day, my husband arrived home and sent me to bed. He would see our busy little family through dinner, swim practice and the rest of the chaos that comes with four little girls in our little yellow house.
As I laid in bed trying to quiet my queasy stomach and calm my aching head, I listened to my family carry on the evening one floor beneath me.
I heard my husband in the kitchen making dinner for our children, talking with them about their days. I heard my daughters answer, taking turns, interrupting, and all the while helping daddy to make dinner and continue their play all at the same time. I heard the baby, recent crawler that she is, make her way around the rooms, babbling, shouting and shrieking in order to be heard, not to be left out of the fray.
All the noise didn't seem like noise, but rather parts of a song being sung. I could see the glow from the candles in all the windows, and the warmth of the colored lights on our Christmas tree making its way up the stairs. A song, a carol, a Christmas carol.
Thursday, December 8
It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas ...
Christmas is still over two weeks away, but I got our first group teacher gift solicitation this morning at ballet class for one of my girls.
The suggested amount was $15 per student ($10 for the teacher, $5 for the helper). Well, sorry, that's a little rich for my budget. And for a lot of people's budgets, I am sure. They just don't say anything.
I did. I gave $5. Total. Cheapskate? No, not really. Honest is more like it.
Multiply that amount times the three school age children I have, times all the activites, leaders, teachers, helpers, etc., and you get one hefty sum of money. So, I'm sorry. I just can't give that much.
Does that mean I do not appreciate the teachers who help my children learn? Absolutely not. But it appears I was judged that way, taking in the whispers and corner-of-the-eye looks I was given by the group of moms organizing this gift. Personally, I would much rather receive the random notes and hugs throughout the year. But that is just me.
It's not the first time I've balked at the too-high suggested amount for a gift for children's teachers. And it's not the first time I gave an amount that was less than asked. And it won't be the last.
Christmas isn't about the present anyway. Well, it is... just not that one.
The suggested amount was $15 per student ($10 for the teacher, $5 for the helper). Well, sorry, that's a little rich for my budget. And for a lot of people's budgets, I am sure. They just don't say anything.
I did. I gave $5. Total. Cheapskate? No, not really. Honest is more like it.
Multiply that amount times the three school age children I have, times all the activites, leaders, teachers, helpers, etc., and you get one hefty sum of money. So, I'm sorry. I just can't give that much.
Does that mean I do not appreciate the teachers who help my children learn? Absolutely not. But it appears I was judged that way, taking in the whispers and corner-of-the-eye looks I was given by the group of moms organizing this gift. Personally, I would much rather receive the random notes and hugs throughout the year. But that is just me.
It's not the first time I've balked at the too-high suggested amount for a gift for children's teachers. And it's not the first time I gave an amount that was less than asked. And it won't be the last.
Christmas isn't about the present anyway. Well, it is... just not that one.
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