it's different. and that's ok!

Imagine...

Christmas growing up.
No less than 40 people.
Grandma’s house.
Food, fun, cousins.
Best sort of chaos.

Fast forward 20 (or so) years.
Christmas.
Just the six of us.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where I got stuck.
With the word “just.”

Growing up the oldest of 40 grandkids (give or take a couple-but literally only a couple) where most of us lived within a ten mile radius I had a rather unique childhood. Problem is…I didn’t realize that it was unique. Who WASN’T best friends with their cousins? Who DIDN’T bounce between aunts houses on the weekend to hang out? Who DIDN’T do every Sunday dinner at Grandma’s and have to fight for a place to sit? I grew up with the idea that when I had kids I would create the exact same atmosphere. Because surely that was the one and only way to successfully raise kids-right?

Jump forward through marriage, children, divorce.
Major move away from my mom and sisters, remarriage, etc.

The last two years I have really had a love/hate relationship with my decision to live a 6 hour drive from my extended family. Being the oldest of six girls there is a blessing in not being in the hub-staying out of the drama and loving my family even more when I do get to see them. At the holidays, however, it’s a struggle to hear about great gatherings that our little family is not a part of simply because of distance.

In the midst of my annual holiday pity party this year, Mr. Man reminded me that WE chose this, my mother and sisters did not. I really needed to reexamine expectations of both our little family and my extended family and remember that WE moved, not them. (Side note: sometimes it’s a bummer when he is so right.)  I set on my way to adjust my attitude and see the joy in the “just.”

Christmas Eve was a delight. As my friends posted on Facebook that they were running to the inlaws house or getting everyone dressed and ready, I enjoyed Mr. Man and the four little one’s making a “roast beast” for dinner in our pj’s. We played games we hadn’t played before. We hung out. We laughed. “Just” the six of us. We made cookies and put out carrots for Santa’s reindeer. We read The Story. The kids all slept tucked in together in the same room.

Peaceful. Loving. Calm. Amazing. Fun.

And different.

Christmas morning started at 6am (perks of being divorced parents = kid free weekends, downfall = sharing kids on Christmas leads to very early mornings!) We unwrapped and enjoyed ourselves until it was time for the kids to head to their other parents houses by 10am. By 11am, Mr. Man and I took a deep breath and reveled in our Christmas celebration "just" the six of us.

The thing is…I always wanted to recreate what I had as a kid because I felt so blessed by it. But the truth always happens and what the truth reminded me is that different can also be great!

Different is often scary.
But more often than not it’s also a great new adventure.

Different is ok.
Different has been a blessing.

Just the six of us is exactly where we belonged.

Who knew?

(OK-Mr. Man knew but that’s beside the point.)

-McGee

grandma veda.

“I’m telling on you, mom-YOU ARE SO UNFAIR!”
“Who are you telling on me?”
“GRANDMA!”

And with that I stomped out of the room and proceeded to call Grandma on our cordless phone as I walked away from the house, down the driveway, running away.

For, you see, she was my first “Person.”
The one I could call for anything.

She moved on from this life five and a half years ago, two days after my youngest came into this world.  I miss her. But it’s odd. Often when I miss her the most she finds a way to get my attention and let me know she’s thinking about me too.

Right after she passed away I dreamt about her a couple nights in a row-she would just come and talk to me, chat away. Then one night she came and let me know-probably about a week after she died-that she had work to do now and that she can’t keep visiting me. She told me I would be ok and that she would come back but it wouldn’t be for awhile. And then she was gone.

But when I need her….when I really need to run away to Grandma’s again…she comes back…but not in another dream-although I will it to be so, many times…but she makes her presence known. And it’s enough to scratch the itch.

I was in the midst of a tough period in my life, one of those where I would have run away to Grandma’s house for sure-and was missing her horribly. Mr. Man and I were on a road trip from NorCal down to LA and we stopped at Harris Ranch-a place Grandma had taken me as a kid on a special road trip. I stopped in the completely empty restroom to wash my hands and the entire room smelled of her perfume. Completely caught off guard I ran out of the room looking for the woman who smelled like her. Didn’t see a soul in sight. It was late at night and the restaurant was nearly vacant. I walked back into the restroom and just breathed deeply soaking it all up with teary eyes feeling like I had just been given the best hug ever.

I even found her at Target this Christmas. I miss her horribly at Christmas! It was her perfume. Again. I was shopping in the women’s clothing section for…well…ok…for me. But I was done with everyone else!!! And I smelled it. Again. That perfume. The same perfume I hadn’t smelled in over two years-the one I smelled at Harris Ranch. And I followed it. This time I found an owner. A cute little old Hispanic lady who-I’m sure-was NOT shopping for herself. And I just followed her for a few minutes.

Breathing deeply.
Just to take it all in.
And feel her.
That is, until the woman looked at me oddly, her 6 foot tall stalker.
In Target. At Christmas time.
So I walked away. But totally fulfilled!

I still see her, too-I see her in the people around me.

I see her in my mom-I hear her and I feel her strength and spirit. Sometimes, when my mom reaches for my hand or plays the piano I see my grandmother’s hands. I see her in my mothers eyes-it’s a fierce strength and a quiet determination with a mix of tenderness, vulnerability and love.

I feel her in the way I feel about myself around my Uncle John. Grandma made me feel like I can do anything-and never chastised me for poor choices-just encouraged me to get back up again. Something about the way John is, makes me feel the same-I can literally feel her spirit around him sometimes. And he loves on kids and makes them feel incredibly special just like she did.

There are other times, wearing her ring and literally feel her soft, elderly hand hold mine, finding her plastic grapes in an antique store and her favorite Christmas song come on at that exact moment, or even a hummingbird-her absolute favorite-hovering around me and Jordi at Family Camp while we’re talking about her…

Enough to make me know that I'm not sure what’s next after this life…but I know there is something. Because she is there. And she knows where I am.

I was the lucky one-the oldest of 40 or so grandkids.
I had the most time with her.
And remember the most.
I treasure all of it but I also know what I’m missing out on.

I am one lucky girl.

Merry Christmas Eve…McGee