Merry Christmas from the Past

Tonight, because I do these random things, I googled my daughters birth name.

Wow.

What a shock to find this posting from the Chicago Tribune Archives – online!

I have no memory of writing to the Tribune. I had no idea if it was published, I am guessing it was.

But, oh, god, how my naivete, my koolaid drunken, aching state is obvious. I feel shaky and sick reading it.

Merry Christmas, Wherever You Are.

Crying….

Paper Cuts on My Heart

“When words become unclear, I shall focus with photographs.  When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence.”  ~Ansel Adams

Did you have a nice Christmas holiday?

Mine was okay. Not good. Not bad but this is the usual with me. The ambivalence comes from the frenetic nature of it all and that I am easily overstimulated which turns into irritability as I fail at my attempts to handle the frenzy.

My fiance overindulged me with many lovely gifts. He presented me with new pandora beads, my tiffany perfume, candles, mugs, necklaces from Brighton (actually from my sons but purchased by my fiance). It was very touching to me. Its been years since someone bought me so many gifts and particularly such thoughtful ones. The best gift he gave me this year is without question himself, our love, our engagement. He makes my world a better place.

My sons were relatively pleased with their Santa stash with my oldest sons ipod touch being the biggest hit. Our family time was limited due to having to get my sons from their father (divorce and shared custody wreaks havoc with holidays), spend a few hours with my extended family and then drive an hour back home to celebrate with my fiances sons (see previous note on divorce and custody). Crazed. Good but crazed. And mostly good.

I took lots of pictures as I always do. I am the family photographer/historian. I enjoy it. For the most part.

"All" The Grankids

The picture to the left (click to make larger)  kills me every year. My mother will scream above the crowd. Beckoning to all (?) her grandchildren to line up for the yearly photo op and then she will call for me.

And I will go, dutifully, even somewhat gleefully and take the photo of most of the grandchildren.

One is always missing.

This is never lost on me and for seconds, sometimes minutes, I must pause and collect myself. For taking a picture of all the grandkids minus one slices a paper cut  in my heart. I will wince quietly, gasp for air, and shoot away.

One is always missing.

(Photo has been blurred to protect the privacy of the individuals. The goofy looking visible one is my youngest son. Cameras to him equal the best time to make to most peculiar face possible).

Ornamental Distractions

“Like ornaments, thoughts of special people brighten the season and warm our hearts” – Unknown

I am not sure if I am happy or sad that one of the things I did NOT do during my 18 years of birthmother exile was have a special ornament for my daughter.  I can honestly say that the thought never occurred to me.

True to the duality of my gemini sign, I find that both disturbing and oddly comforting.

Regardless of what you did or what you think, Jenna”s post Ornamental Reflection is touching. Reading it made me want to go home today and an place an ornament on my tree in honor of my daughter. My bff sent me three hand painted ornaments this year. There was one for each of my sons and one for my fiance and I celebrating our new home.  There is nothing for my daughter.

And yet even as I think that, I tell myself I shouldnt bother. I need to stop torturing myself and cease including someone who at this time does not want to be included. And then I question even that thought. And I hop on the crazy reunion habitrail one more time and let my thoughts drive me crazy.

But yeah, go read Jenna’s post.

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