Christmas isn't the same

I put up a Christmas tree this year for the first time in three years. As a kid (and even as a teenager) if you told me I'd go years without putting up a Christmas tree, I would have admitted myself to the mental ward in advance. Surely I was ill.

Truth is, I haven't been ill (per se); I just didn't plan on mom dying at Christmastime.

A woman came up to me at mom's memorial service two years ago and told me Christmas would never be the same again. She knew, because she lost her husband around that same time a couple of years prior.

It was an awful comment, even though she didn't mean it that way. (Still, I tucked away a mental note never to repeat the same offense if a friend loses a loved one at some noteworthy time on the calendar.)

It's obviously a comment I haven't forgotten, and in a sense, my dear naysayer was right.

Christmas isn't the same.

I now have a two-year old who runs to plug in the yites every morning before breakfast; who just can't keep his hands off the low-down ornaments that make mees (music); who has no idea that the doorbell he just heard announced the arrival of his new, very-own train table.

I know this isn't what our well-meaning guest meant when she said Christmas would never be the same, but oh, it's just the beginning of how right she actually was.

The day I lost mom marked a forever change in my Christmases on earth.

And the same thing happened the day I got married, the day I got pregnant, and the day I got pregnant again.

It is true. Our memorial-service visitor was right. Christmas would never be the same.

The cat in the sparkly hula skirt hangs on a sturdy branch near the top of my tree this year, dancing to the rhythm of my house when Will races his dump truck across the floor or slams a door shut. It, like every other ornament I have, is from mom--the year she gave it to me written in black ink on its tail.

Mom's not here, but her ornaments are.

She's not here, but I am.

And a precious, rowdy toddler is, too.

Christmas is definitely not the same.

At the risk of sounding however this sounds, Christmas is different not because it's sad now that she's gone, or because memories of her death now shroud my mind when I hear Christmas music (although those things are true), but Christmas is different because I think I embody her more this time of year than perhaps any other time.

I see the Dewey's stand at the mall and stop to buy a Moravian sugar cake to put away for Christmas morning, just like she always did. 

I drape red beads around my tree, hang an ornament on every, single viable branch, and crown it with Santa Claus, looking so Williamsburg at the top, just like she always did. 

I get dressed for the millionth Christmas party of the season, and before turning out the light in the bathroom, I stop in my tracks because my face and the blush on my cheeks look startlingly like her.

More and more these days, I hear myself talk, I go shopping, I lead Bible study, I decorate my Christmas tree, and I know I'm doing it all just like she did.

Christmas isn't the same. When you become a mom, it changes. When you lose a mom, it changes.

I'm actually grateful for a time of year when I can so obviously embody the mother I've lost while at the same time embrace the motherhood I've gained.

I'm so happy that the Christmas season is back in the Thomsen household. I grieved (ignored, whatever you want to call it) like I needed the last two Christmases, and now I'm ready to embrace the season,

beautiful yites included.

It's a table topper this year only because we are likely MOVING
the day (or so) after Christmas! That's another post, but I
promise a full-fledged tree next year!

(More about Mom's Christmas legacy)

Sunsets and matchbox cars

"The sun's about to set!"

It was the only time the whole week that all of us, simultaneously, stopped. A soapy sippy cup still in hand, I rushed to find my spot by the breakfast nook window, along with Kelly, Kyle, Grams, Whitney, Derek, Ryan, Steve, and Flora. Of course us east-coasters think the sight of the sun setting over the ocean is as rare and beautiful as the Hope diamond, but what I love about my west-coast family is that they still think so, too. The sun setting each evening was the calm to the day's fun chaos, even if we had to trip over matchbox cars and blocks to see it.

We spent the first week of November in California, visiting family, celebrating Thanksgiving early, and attending cousin Brenna's wedding.

In between, we squeezed in a trip to the petting zoo, dinner at the amazing South of Nick's restaurant (where even though I couldn't consume the margarita, just being in its presence made me happy - remember last year's post), walks on the beach, trips to the park, a five-star-two-thumbs-up massage, and sunsets. Oh, those sunsets.

Were it not for Steve and Flora's grandparenting (Flora, that box of trucks? Yes, just yes) and Gigi's amazing generosity and hospitality, Ryan and I couldn't use the words we've been using to describe the trip to friends since we've been back: amazing, restful, fun.

And what did Will think of it all? The pictures speak volumes. But there's one thing I didn't capture on camera that all moms of little boys will understand. You want to know how the trip went for Will? Well, let me mention that Gigi doesn't just live on the beach, she has train tracks directly in front of her house. A train went by probably five times a day. Need I say more about what Will thought of California?

I'll let the pictures say the rest.

The whole airport/airplane thing was much easier this time than last... 

...in part thanks to having his carseat to strap that boy down.

And of course this happened right after the lady told us to prepare for landing.

He got off a plane and got on a bus! Happy boy!

Ahhhh! We're here. (This is the breakfast nook view.)

Petting zoo

Hi, my name is Will.

Just don't ask to take one home. 

These cute cousins were together last Thanksgiving, but they actually acknowledged
each other this year! As you can see...

And here starts the slew of Gigi pictures. Because I adore her,
and I can't decide which pic I like the most.

Post her five-star-two-thumbs-up massage, but you could have guessed that.

Papa the pony

Playing with a backdrop like that? Yeah, Will protested when we got home.

I'll just sleep here in this dog bed. (No, he's not really asleep. This is Will we're talking about.)

I can't remember why he's crying here. Probably because  we
wouldn't let him go down to the ocean at 6am.

How wonderful that we got to see Grandma in Santa Barbara.
Will and Josiah may have missed out on the wedding festivities, but
Grandma and Aunt Robin sure didn't disappoint!

The wedding

One of those CA sunsets

Too bad I'm mid blink.

Oh Ryan. (But still, what a cute pic.)

I only wish I was a part of this movie star pic. Whoa!

The beautiful reception

Only in CA. What a fun tree house. And the trees behind it? Yeah, an avocado orchard.
Ryan's cousin's house. 

On the way home. 

It's still the small things. (Phew! says mommy)