Thursday, December 23, 2010

December Light

This day already feels like a prelude to something very big.

I was right - today is so much better.

Yesterday was crabby and snappish and really quite unfortunate. It was the opposite of Christmas Vacation. My patience dangled as precariously as a trove of glass ornaments in the wake of a Wiley two-year old.

But today?

Well, I woke up to a sparkly clean house, thanks to an evening showing last night. I grumble my way through the prep-work for each blessed showing, but once it's over, I'm so happy that it forced me to tidy the heck up. One of these days I'm pretty sure we'll receive the very unexpected surprise of an offer, but until then? I'll take the clean. I'll take it.

I entered the above photo in P-Dub's Christmas Bokey contest. (Yes, it's supposed to be bokeh, but my fingers are hopped up on pineapple and Bagel Bites and Bokey seems kind of funny to me, after all. And yes, it's supposed to be Holiday Bokeh, but I default to Christmas.) Do you think she'll pick my book wreath picture?

She will if she knows what's good for her.

Oh dear. I just publicly threatened The Pioneer Woman.

That's something I would have expected yesterday.

(Regroup! Regroup!)

For the record, she will most certainly not choose my photo. She seems inclined toward twinkly light bokeh and color and heavy post-processing and photographers who are actually photographers, not a wife who slinks off with her husband's camera just to see how much damage she can do. Who am I to argue with Dubsie? That girl is the Bee's Knees. She can't even help it.

Speaking of sparkly lights, Silas is fully enamored.

Many, many, many, many, many times a day he points to the tree and says, "De. pitty. lights." Then he points to the overhead fixture and says, "De. pitty. lights." Then he looks around the room very quickly, searching for something with remotely reflective qualities and says, "De. pitty. lights."

We finalized his adoption last Friday and I was worried that he would pitch a full-on fit right there in front of the Honorable So-And-So. We finalized with the same judge 5 years ago and Calvin, as if on cue, reached up and stroked my cheek and said "Mama! Mama!" in the softest, cutest voice you could ever hope to hear.

I had visions of Silas arching his back and screaming "Nononononononono!"

Silly mama.

I held him on my hip while he looked around the room and pointed. "De. pitty. lights....De. pitty. lights...De. pitty. lights." He reached out and grabbed the little wiry microphone at one point and Honorable So-And-So laughed. Then, at the very end, my boy announced to the roomful of waywards and misguideds, the boreds and the happies, the stenographer and the bailiff, the buttoned-up attorneys in bad shoes, "I hungy".

So we took him to lunch.

I'm noticing this week - this month - that December's light has an allure all its own. I had never noticed before. It's not glowy, like September's. It's not showy, like June's.

It's blurry and blue-tinged. A whisper of beauty with just enough time to race out to play before packing it up and heading home. These days are so short and so cold, but I'm toasted up with the truth of the season this year, and the knowledge that the season has no end, after all.

Right now, I type to the song of my two oldest littles playing one room over. They received a pardon from traditional room-bound Quiet Time, and they show their gratitude through the cooperative stacking of blocks. Ruby sings nonsense and Calvin says things like, "Isn't this an exhausting day?" They are hard at work, building something out of nothing, wielding plastic guys named Travis and polyester-tressed gals named Alice, Lauren and Shoshy.

They, along with their little brother, are some of the brightest parts of me. They inspire me to try harder and try less. They inspire me to eaves-drop like no body's business.

They are my Pitty Lights.

So, happy eve-of-the-eve, my friends. Your encouragement and humor and head-scratching interest in my little life has amped up my world. I am ever-honored that you come back here and read my scratches. It is humbling and illuminating, and as it gets more difficult to keep up with all of you, please promise me that you know for sure that I appreciate you to the gauzy December moon and back.