It all depends on what you believe.

Christmas has come and gone, as it always does. Dustin and I lament the speed of it all. We do so much to prepare and then in a blink, it's all over. My boys, who are either humoring me or who do still believe in a flying sleigh with a jolly fat elf, go to bed with little hassle and await the morning's bounty. They wake at 3am and one of them tackles their sleeping grandpa, who instead of knocking some sense into the attacker, joins in the rumpus. Through the fog in my head, I see a head streak by my bedroom, headed for the glow of Christmas lights in the living room. Dustin gets up and points them back to bed. Sometime between 4 and 5am a head goes by again. Again, Dustin gets out of bed to steer our overly eager offspring back into bed, if not back into sleep. At 6am a face closes in on mine and states that he has waited 3 hours now, and can we please get up! I send him back to bed until 7am. I am met with much resistance, but the closing of my eyes finalizes the deal, until another attempt at 6:30. Not a second after the clock strikes 7, both boys are in my room explaining that it is now TIME TO GET UP!!!!

I remember the excitement of my youth. The lights beckoning, wondering if Santa brought me the boots I REALLY REALLY REALLY wanted, or the Cabbage Patch Doll that the rest of the world had to have and I was just sure I would never get, the anticipation as we got closer to the end of unwrapping the packages since the best presents were always magically placed at the back. I also remember the wonder that I felt when I looked at the plate that now held only cookie crumbs, the empty mug of milk and the quickly scrawled "Thank You" note beside the plate. I felt real joy seeing my parents and sister open gifts that I had purchased with my own money, once I was old enough to do so. The love that filled our home as family members showed up to join us for dinner. The whole day was wondrous. And so I drag my tired butt out of bed, wake my sleeping baby and walk into that land of wonder my boys still live in.

I was certain this would be the year Santa would die. I have been preparing myself for it for the last couple years, just waiting for the inevitable question. When I grew bold enough to ask, I was 10. And when I learned the truth it was as if a family member had died. In memory, my mom was so cavalier about killing Santa. She simply asked what I believed and when I, trying to trick my mother into telling me the truth, said I didn't believe, she said I was correct. That was that. I still get a pit in my stomach when I revisit that memory. Sometimes I wish my parents had just let me live happily ever after in my faerie tale. Perhaps that's why I stray away from really discussing the logistics of a flying sleigh and 8 tiny reindeer with my two boys. We all need to grow up, but not yet! Right?!

The question of what Christmas is really about came up on Christmas Eve, and not from one of my children. Avery was in his deep mode, asking about good and evil and religion, which led to my mom-in-law asking what Christmas was really about? I've always tried to be very careful about my opinions on religion around my boys. I really don't believe it's my place to tell them how to believe. There are many doors that lead to many paths that very possibly all lead to the same place. That's just my take. What they end up following if they chose to follow is ultimately up to them. And so when the question of what we're really celebrating on Christmas comes up, I preface my explanation with the same phrase I am accustomed to using whenever a philosophical question arises from one of my boys or someone in their presence. It all depends on what you believe.

I try to base my explanations on the facts as I believe them to be. I also do my best to impress upon my children that really, what everything in this life is all about, is being the best person you can be. Spreading cheer, sharing wealth, looking at, not through, the pain that is out there, saying what you mean and meaning what you say, living with the best of intentions, being responsible to your family and yourself. Christmas is a great day to remember all those things and carry them forward with you into the quickly approaching new year. My boys are 11 and 9. I am mom. I'm sure they want to tell me to shut up, but instead they smile and say, "hmmm."

This last year has been a challenge in many ways. Many moments have had me sitting back saying, "hmmm." There are a great number of people in my life who are wise and have good info, good advice and who care and dare to show that they do. That doesn't stop me from wanting to tell them to shut up every now and then. But really, I know that what everyone has to say can be used productively, even the negative comments. If it weren't for the support that Dustin and I have been blessed with through the last really difficult months I am not sure how we would have come out. One of my old friends was wondering why, when a number changes in our calendar year, do people suddenly think that their life is going to change too? As people, I think we have a difficult time seeing each day as an opportunity to make necessary changes. The new year gives us an opportunity to reflect and say our thanks, cut our losses and move forward. To see what didn't work over the last year and change things in the new year. Hence, resolutions.

I have never been a big fan of making a New Year's Resolution. The only real explanation I can give, is that I don't like to set myself up for failure. How's that for some insight into my psyche? I don't need the added stress of a resolution hanging over my head every time I pick up a cookie instead of a carrot. Every time I say "fuck" instead of some less offensive idiom. Every time I snap at my children instead of taking a deep breath and explaining something for the umpteenth time. For me, it's a whole lot easier to simply stay on the path I am currently on. I strive to be conscious of my actions and aware of how they affect myself and others. Less stress equals more success in my world.

I will still reflect on the old year and try to put behind me the people and ideas that haven't helped motivate and encourage. I will still look forward and think of all the new year could possibly present and how I will handle each new person and idea. I will continue to hold dear the people and ideas that have held me and my family in their hands, hearts and minds through all times, up and down. As always I will thank my lucky stars, the heavens, and my angels all around that I am still breathing and can celebrate the coming of another new day. I believe this next year has to be better than the last, but that doesn't mean it won't be worse!

In the first month of this new year we will have a new place to call home. We will gain another bedroom, a dining room, and a kitchen with counter space all rolled into 800 square feet more of living space and shed approximately $250,000 of debt. I find it hard to imagine not calling my little shoe box house on Chippewa Trail home, but am very grateful that we will have a new place to call home that is just a couple of streets over. I will return to my new job as the elementary school librarian, shaking up the libraries and encouraging kids to read! I am reminded that as bad as things can get there is truly a light at the end. Dustin and I are not there yet, and really I hope not to be anytime soon. Reaching that light means my days here are over and I have achieved all I was meant to achieve. Instead, we will continue to strive ahead, one foot in front of the other, hoping more light falls upon us as each day passes into months into new years. I can't help but believe it will.

Happy New Year!