A date I can never remember . . .

I woke up Monday morning feeling anxious.

I hate Mondays, so it’s not out of the norm to roll out of bed loathing the day before it begins. But having an unexplained, nagging feeling is not normal.

While I was getting ready for work, I asked my mom to pray for me; that I was feeling anxious and unsettled, suddenly uncomfortable in my own skin.

Of course she asked me why, but because I didn’t have a definite answer,
I searched my brain for one as I grabbed my white sweater out of the closet.

· My car started funny the day before . . . that’s enough to send me over the edge any day.

· A friend of mine had an accident over the weekend and I was still waiting on the details.

· I had a meeting after work that usually isn’t a part of my weekly routine. I’m a girl who likes her routine. Take me out of it and I get a bit uneasy.

· My trip to Ireland and a new job are coming up faster than I expected.

· I’ve had a cold for over a month that I can’t shake. Turns out it’s Bronchitis.

They were valid reasons and definitely could be addressed through prayer, but it didn’t quite hit the nail on the head.

I still had that funny feeling that made you want to look over your shoulder every five seconds to make sure someone’s not there.

Monday came and went. The car started fine, I had an update on my friend, my cold was ever present, and it wasn’t so bad taking a break from my regular after work routine.

And yet, I still had that feeling.

I got home and my mom was cleaning her room. I sat on her bed and filled her in on my day like I used to when I was a teenager: sitting by the head board, legs crossed, pillow in my lap, running my fingers through my hair.

I told her I was still feeling uneasy when she paused and said quietly,
"You know, today is the 13th anniversary of Dad’s death?"

My mouth dropped, my mind went blank, and the anxious knot disappeared.
That was it! That’s why I had been out of sorts!

Then came the sadness because I had forgotten - again.

I can never remember the actual date of his passing, but I always get that unexplained ickiness around that time. Maybe my memory lapse is subconscious and I’m protecting myself. Maybe it’s because that chapter of my life ended and I don’t usually think about those days. Maybe it’s because I waited until I was an adult to deal with my grief and anger at losing parent at age 14.

I see my oldest niece now, same age as I was when he died, and think: "Wow, I was way too young to see what I saw, to hold it all in and tell myself I was fine."
Maybe, forgetting all that is how it should be?

The way I see it, forgetting about what happened the morning of February 20^{th, 1999, is perfectly normal. Dad would never want me to get stuck on something bad that happened. He would want me to reflect on all the good things that came from it; to see how the person I am today was from the moldings of what happened all those years ago.}
Dad never had time or patience to dwell on the past, and neither do I.

For me, I’ll remember him on his birthday, September 26, and forget about February 20th - until I need to place that unwelcomed anxiety next year.

Donald Anthony Klerowski
September 26, 1953 - February 20, 1999

Baked Oatmeal

The other day, I realized I haven’t posted a recipe on here yet.

*Gasp* I know.

Now, I love following food blogs and looking at recipes to create plates of deliciousness. But I don’t often invent anything spectacular, just the usual chicken, pasta, vegetables and ooo-gobs of granola.

So when I do share a recipe, know that it is not of my own invention but something I saw, tried, thoroughly enjoyed and desire to pass on to you.

Sometimes, I will make tweaks depending on my personal tastes or if it calls for an egg and I’m fresh out, if that’s the case, I’ll mark it for you. J

Lately I’ve been on a rotting banana kick.

I    love   rotting   bananas!

Throw them in the freezer to stop the aging process (if only humans worked that way) and whip them out whenever you get a real hankering for banana pancakes or need them as an egg substitute.

But let’s talk oatmeal.

I was introduced to baked oatmeal last winter at Pine Brook Camp, and let me tell you, this ain’t your momma’s oatmeal!

I’ve tried a couple of recipes but haven’t found one that rocked my taste buds until I Googled “Baked Oatmeal, Banana, Healthy.”

www.skinnytaste.com and I are new best friends!

There’s the webpage link, and here’s the recipe. I did make a modification or two which I marked. Her pictures are far better than mine, but I assure you, your taste buds will throw a dance party with every bite!
Enjoy!

2 ripe bananas

1 ½ cup blueberries

¼ cup honey

1 cup oats

*¼ cup walnuts (almonds)

½ tsp baking powder

¾ tsp cinnamon

Pinch of salt

1 cup of milk (ff)

*1 egg (chia egg)

1 tsp vanilla

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Spray a 9 X 9 pan with cooking spray and place sliced bananas on the bottom. Sprinkle ½ of the blueberries and top that with a dash of cinnamon and 1tsp of the honey.

 
Cover and bake for 15 minutes to release the sugary goodness of the fruit.


Meanwhile in a bowl, combine Oats, 1/8 cup of nuts, Baking Powder, rest of the Cinnamon and salt.

In another bowl, whisk the milk, honey, egg and vanilla. Be determined with the honey, once it hits the milk it will become stiff, just keep stirring.

Remove the pan and pour the oat mixture over the top.

Pour the milk mixture over that, making sure all the oats get wet.

Then sprinkle with remaining blueberries and nuts. Bake for 30 minutes and voila!

Deliciousness on a plate.

This is a good dish on its own, or you can add milk or yogurt.

 *Nuts are nuts, use whatever you have in the house or appeals to you.

*Chia Egg – I follow a Vegan Blog and have been introduced to many unusual recipes/ingredients. But remember the Chia pets? Yes, the seeds are one in the same and come in bulk form! Adding 3 TBL of water to 1 TBL of the seeds will create a jelly substance that acts as a binder in place of the egg.

Bet you didn’t know you could eat THAT activity did ya? J

Single Awareness Day

It's February - Quick! What comes to your mind?

Chances are, something like this floats in?  

Yes, it's that time of year where love is celebrated (and measured) with the giving of chocolates, flowers, cards and the occasional wedding proposal.

Pink and red are everywhere, accented with hints of lace which provide one with that warm and fuzzy feeling . . . and a subtle reminder of what to buy that special someone.

Taking time to remember how much we love others is a wonderful thing; especially when it feels like the world is just groaning with suffering and bad news.

Maybe it's a bit overdone with the consumerism attitude and retail stores implying that "bigger is better." But it's the principle of the holiday that counts; letting someone know how important they are to you.

However, like all things, there is another side . . .

A dark side . . .

A side that no one wants to talk about if it happens to them . . .
Something you hope goes away if you hide under the covers . . .
Something society portrays as an absolute failure of the human race.

 . . . Being single on Valentine's Day . . . 

dun dun dun

For some, it's a fate worse than death. At least, that's how it is seen in the movies.

Now, there's nothing wrong with being single. I consider myself to be a professional on the subject and can freely admit that I was one of those girls who wished she could bury herself under the covers until the 24 hours of celebrating were over.

 Although you're the only person who knows your single, you feel as if the world detects your "disease" and everyone looks at you with rose colored pity they don't normally feel for you the rest of the year.

This may not be what happens, but as a singleton, it's what it feels like.

One year, I received my very own Valentine in the mail. What a surprise!

When I called to thank the sender, she responded, "Well, you don't have anyone to send you one, so I thought I would."

 Yes, somebody actually said that to me.

 As a single person you're used to people making suggestions about potential matches, answering the age old question every relative asks: "So...who are you dating?" And let's not forget the added pressure from commercials about how "easy" online dating is.

I don't think dating online is easy. It's time consuming, stressful, and you hear the phrase, "I have such a connection to you" so many times you start to wonder if monogamy is going out of style.

Single-hood is an uncomfortable subject - mostly for the non-singletons. They get a mortified look on their face whenever they ask you if you’re dating anyone. You in turn feel their discomfort and embarrassment that you have nothing new to report. Then you feel shame because while you can handle a full-time job, daily workouts, mentoring, planning Bible study lessons and writing weekly blog postings, you can't manage something so simple as getting asked out on a date.

For years I would dread February 14th as a huge reminder of my "failure." That one thing I couldn't grab. That one "success" I hadn't mastered.

I reached the height of my embarrassment last year when a youth leader at my church made this unwitting remark: "Valentine's Day . . . ha ha . . .  also known as 'Single Awareness Day.'"

No one knew that I was a singleton and yet, my face turned scarlet; because he had a point.

Most often than not, singles feel VERY aware of their singleness . . . and even feel bad for it when February 14^th rolls around.

And I was tired of it.

Tired of feeling guilty and bad about myself when fact of the matter is, my relationship status has no reflection of who I am as a person.

It's just a label.

Then I saw the double meaning.

SINGLES HAD THEIR OWN NATIONAL HOLIDAY!

Finally I'm being celebrated! And I'm done feeling embarrassed or shame that my "relationship status" on my Facebook page hasn't changed in a while.

It wasn't this one statement that helped my dread of Valentine's day; it was a culmination of things which I might tell you about one day.

One thing's for sure, you'll find this girl remembering to tell the people around her how much she loves them, not lost under the covers because no one is showering her with roses.

Although, one might be nice. . .  

 

Where are you???

Whew!

I haven’t posted anything for a while . . . did you miss me?

I have a perfectly good explanation, I went away to camp from the 13th – 16th, moved into a house in Hadley and watched the shyest kitty until the 25th, then moved again to Hatfield to watch two kitties whom I can’t tell apart  . . . and I had to give the right one a thyroid pill every day! We had several staring contests until I finally shook the pill bottle to see which one flew out of the room.

My suspicions were correct; the cat with the walrus like tooth was my target.

I moved home Sunday afternoon, but will move to a house in Easthampton tomorrow. 

Needless to say, Kelsey’s been a little nutty.

The extent of the nuttiness is starting to concern me a little. Not only am I holding conversations with cats, but I’m forgetting to do things . . . like locking the front door of the Hatfield house before I go upstairs for a shower!

I’ve seen Psycho – not something I wish to experience. 

House sitting is always an adventure, whether it’s for a new client or a repeat. Usually everything goes fine, but this time around, some crazy things happened . . .

My first house owns an invisible kitty - she hides under the bed all the time, but you know she’s alive because her food “magically” disappears.

After I’d moved all my stuff in, I turned on the TV and buried myself under my favorite red blanket from home. Since I hate commercials, I decided to get my lunch ready for the next day. As I flicked the kitchen switch, I received such a zap that I thought there was something wrong with the electrical system.

“Great,” I said to the cat,  my invisible companion, “I’m here for 10 days and her electrical is going haywire.”

A few minutes later, I once again got up from my blanket, went to turn the thermostat down and saw a lighting bolt jump from the knob to my finger that was 2” away.

“OW!”

After a series of zaps, I realized it wasn’t an electrical problem. It was the electrical charge from my favorite red blanket!

I got zapped the entirety of my stay and now flinch every time I reach for a light switch . . . but it gets worse.

It’s Sunday morning and I’m late for church as usual, but am making headway with the fastest shower of my life. I’m in my towel about to select my wardrobe when I hear the sound that every house sitter dreads.

DING-DONG

“Maybe it’s a sales person, and if I stay really quiet and don’t move, they won’t know I’m here!

I could hear the cat’s thoughts from under the bed: 

“Right, because you’re car is not in the driveway or anything.”

DING-DONG

They weren’t going away.

I threw on my PJs and found my former co-worker (the woman’s daughter) on the porch saying, “Did I wake you?”

“My hair’s soaking wet, Deb . . . does it look like I was sleeping?” 

On Wednesday, I came “home” to a normal house, but as I started to buzz around watering the plants, I noticed the dining room lights were left dimming . . . and they weren’t like that in the morning.

Someone had been in the house, perhaps still was! And I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that the stupid girl who scopes out the basement always gets killed.

So of course I grab the closest flashlight and head towards the basement.

I spent 20 minutes scanning the house to no avail. There was “no one” there; just me and the invisible cat. There’s a possibility I might not have turn the knob all the way off, but it wasn’t on in the morning – I would have seen it.

That same night, around 10:30 p.m., I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom . . . when the power went out.

Now the logical side of my brain kicked in and said it was a power outage due to the weather. The emotional side told me I missed a closet and whoever was in there cut the power with the intention of slicing me to bits.

I've seen Scream, and all I could think about was a man wearing a mask and black robes with a knife out and ready.

I used the walls to feel my way to the living room, almost collided with the piano, and found the stash of flashlights left out for me, “just in case.”

I fell asleep that night with 2 flashlights, the house phone, my cell phone, my stuffed cow (for comfort) and one ear open just in case the masked assailant tried his way to my bedroom.

All I heard was little miss invisible clipping up and down the hallway.

When it’s that dark, cat paws sound like a giant wearing cinderblocks.

Obviously I survived the night with the power coming back on an hour later, but it was one of the scariest nights of my house sitting career (thus far).

Nothing that crazy happened in Hatfield. Yes, I forgot to lock the front door and didn’t realize it until I was about to go to bed, but it was pretty uneventful. “The boys” are pretty easy to take care of and offer up some laughs and some frustration.

Quincy (Walrus cat) is good for a laugh. I was doing push-ups one night and he stretched our right underneath me in an attempt to “playfully” bat at my nose – a part of me wondered if this was payback for the pill?

Murphy is a little moody and can be frustrating . . . especially when he’s on your side of the bed and hisses at you when you ask him to move!

The next house is home to a cat named “Puddles” and he is Mr. Personality, strutting his stuff whenever he walks into the room. Should be a good time. Well, it’ll be an adventure of some sort.

Jog for 1, Walk for 2

I’ve been cleared for jogging.

Once a week.

And in between walking spurts.

If there is any pain, I am to stop.

A few days before I attempt to jog, I am to take my pain killers, getting them in my system to reduce any lingering inflammation.

I am to ice immediately after running - both knees - even if they feel fine.

Most importantly, I am to leave my ego at home, not go all out, and listen to my knees. And THAT was the doctor’s orders.

I sat on the examining table January 12th, once again being poked, prodded, pushed, stretched, pinched and pulled, answering, "Yes, that’s tender. No that doesn’t hurt," finally being able to pass the test without a single "Ouch! Don’t do that!"

6 months rest from running, 10 visits to physical therapist, countless of ibuprofen tablets and a knee brace later, I’m nodding my head vigorously agreeing to the "conditions" of my favorite cardio addiction like a kid promising to be good forever if only the babysitter won’t tell on her.

I probably would have pinkey promised if he asked me to.

And yet, I’m apprehensive.

Mostly I’m relieved that I’ve made great progress and am heading on the right track. But a part of me, a very big part of me, is scared. No delicate way of putting it - I’m scared silly - scared of my own leg!
How ridiculous.

Those days of my knee giving out mid-stride was not so long ago. I remember getting stuck on the couch because I couldn’t straighten my leg to stand up. And then the swelling - imaging trying to run in a bouncy house and that’s how it feels to run on a swollen knee.

Not exactly the safest feeling in the world.

Plus, you get used to the idea of being "injured." You get comfortable feeling limited. Not the best place in the world to be, but we’re all human and can grow complacent from time to time.

I did not want that to be me.

Sure, I could give up running. I’ve learned how to live without it for the last 6 months and had to consider my options in case surgery was necessary. But that’s not how I want to live my life. I’m tired of how we needlessly limit ourselves into believing we’re something less than we are.

So what am I really afraid of?
What if this doesn’t work and I end up back where I started?
What if my knee cap falls off?
What if I forget my self discipline and push myself too hard forcing my knee cap to fall off?

What if I stop worrying and start running? Well, jog for 1, walk for 2.

I got to this far in my posting and considered ending it . . . but that’s not the end of the story.

Of course I was going to test out my knee as soon as I could. Yes I had some fears, but the bottom line was I couldn’t wait!

I climbed on the treadmill and basked in the aura of its power. I looked over the buttons, the TV screen, the heart rate monitor and with a huge, goofy grin on my face, pressed "Quick Start."

I started walking at 3.6 mph for 3 minutes – no biggie, I’ve been walking the whole of my injury anyway, so what was another walk?
The moment of truth came when I hit the numbers "4" and "2."

The treadmill was set for 4.2 mph, and I was officially jogging! A little clumsily at first until I found my footing, and it was very embarrassing (for my ego) to run at a "measly" 4.2 mph. But I didn’t care. I pinky promised to follow the doctor’s orders and I didn’t work this hard to throw everything away on the first run.

I slowed to a walk after a few minutes, then started back up again. My knee did object with some twinging in the beginning, but I think it was from under usage and nerves, not from over-straining.

The second I felt uncomfortable, I reduced my speed until the pain went away, something I’ve never done before.
It took me 30 minutes to run 2 miles. In my prime, I was running 9.18 minute miles. I don’t really think having the best time matters, it’s the journey on the run. What you’ve seen, heard and learned while you were out there pounding the pavement . . . or in my case, the lesson of self-discipline while I was jogging for 1, walking for 2.

To Resolution or not to Resolution . . .

I hate resolutions.

To me, they are something you feel forced to do, resent having to do them, and then you just break your new found resolves anyway.

So what’s the point?

After years of breaking my resolution to “lose 10 pounds,” and feeling frustrated because I “couldn’t make any changes,” I gave up making resolutions all together.

Instead, I make goals and have better success. I believe it’s important for an individual to be willing to change, grow and stretch themselves, and have found that goals work as little reminders to keep me stretching.

I write my goals in a notebook, look at them throughout the year, and give myself a final tally the last week of December. It’s a moment I savor, remembering the adventures and risks I’ve taken and seeing how I’ve changed because of them.

So how did I do in 2011???

Sell Accordion

My Dad’s accordion sits in my closet and I can’t imagine him holding it against me if I was able to sell it so others could use it. – It’s still in my closet.

Volunteer (check)

I want my life to impact as many people as possible and thought volunteering would help me. Turns out I already volunteer more then I realized. I’m at Pine Brook Camp a lot and we have REACH on Sundays. (R.E.A.C.H. is our weekly Bible study for young adults/teens and is held at our house). Plus, I started “mentoring” this fall – one of the best uses of my time.

Home Repairs: Bathroom-Mom’s room (half check)

I have a love/hate relationship with this one. While home repairs come naturally to me, I hate to paint! However, I took our bathroom from a saggy, wet ceiling with ocean blue walls and tropical fish, to a distinctly feminine room of bubble gum pink and a creamy trim with a spackled ceiling.

Mom’s room, however, has been bumped up to the to-do list for 2012.

Make a new budget and stick to it

Uck! Totally not Kelsey! My bills get paid, I put some aside for saving and still have funds to go out from time to time. My current system works.

Run 6 miles (check)

And I did for about 8 months. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but I wanted to increase my mileage and I knew feasible baby steps are best for my psyche. Then I contracted this “Runner’s Knee” and the whole thing went Kaput!

Run more races

Let’s face it –I hate racing. Running is great, being overly competitive is great, but I’m not a racer. I think I’ll be taking this off my list for next year.

Amazing Race Application

I love, love, love the Amazing Race and would LOVE to be on the show, not for the glamour, but for the chance to see the world, test my strengths and grow in my weaknesses. As I am looking for a partner to “run” with, the race will have to be put on hold for now.

Hike (check)

I went on one. I would love to do more, but it’s not safe to hike alone.

Find more social outlets (half check)

I always feel like I don’t socialize enough. The plan was to join a book club or go for a dance class where I could make new friends. While I didn’t join any classes, my hobby of house sitting has introduced me to all sorts of people, and playing softball helped with this one too!

Submit 1 article (check)

I went to school to be a journalist. I like to write, and yes I do work at a newspaper, but I’m in advertising. I was tired of being afraid of success and not using the trade I went to school to for. So

I wanted to submit 1 article – even if it did get rejected it didn’t matter, I would be over that hump and the next submission would be easier. It didn’t get rejected and my article ran in the newspaper. It’s terrifying to know that something you wrote, something that came from your soul is sitting on someone else’s’ desk and she has the ability to publish your verbal child, or throw it in the trash.

That article was about my personal struggle with an Eating Disorder and launched a series of events that included me starting this blog, taking better care of myself, learning how to balance food with exercise and to balance myself as an individual.

Write more (check)

This was in an effort to become more comfortable with my own writing and help me complete the goal of submitting an article. I started in a notebook but my hand kept cramping. Then the article hit, and I got to thinking about a blog. Authors write blogs, professionals write blogs, I’m sure celebrities write blogs, and even ordinary people write blogs. I’m an ordinary person, and I have lots to say.

Thus, Holy Pajamas! was born.

Yoga & Kickboxing class

I know, complete opposites.
I feel I spend too much time at the gym doing the same routine and wanted to be challenged. I thought Yoga would help me relax and gain some new perspective on balance, while kickboxing would teach me self defense when I’m running those back roads of Colrain and give me the heart pounding cardio I crave. These will be bumped to the 2012 to-do list.

Softball (check)

The goal was to learn and at least try out for a team. I made the Shelburne Falls Woman’s League and played on a Co-Ed team in the fall. I LOVE it. And being on a team helped my game improve, fed my competitive spirit, taught me that it’s ok to make mistakes (like missing that pop fly) and it was a social outlet.

Learn to Ski (check)

I hate the snow but thought it was time to make peace with New England winters and find some activity that might take the sting out. Ehhh – Wrong! That morning, I hit a deer. . . I should have known that winter and I would never be friends, but it was a great time on the slopes and turns out I like skiing. Still hate winter though.

Spiritual Life: Pray more, Scripture Memorization (half check)

I learned to pray.
Yes I knew how, but I wanted to get better at it.
Prayer is important because while the Bible is God’s way of communicating with us, prayer is our way of communicating with Him. No friendship can last unless there is equal communication between both parties. I went to a Sunday school class that was all about prayer and the teacher made it sound so simple; like praying to God was no different than talking to a friend or sending a text message.

Scripture Memorization never worked out as planned. Maybe this will get bumped to 2012.

Ireland (check) Lifelong goal

Cliffs of Moher - I'm going here!

I had a dream in early January 2011 that I was visiting the green country and decided it was time to get myself there . . . somehow. The goal was to get some plans moving forward for either a vacation or a mission’s trip. While counseling at Pine Brook Camp this summer, one of the girls in my cabin was from   . . . Ireland! Her family hosts their American friends from time to time, and as my co-counselor this year (Gaby) ALSO wanted to go for a trip, plans were made for a visit in March (which almost didn’t happen thanks to my transmission blowing up in November). But by God’s grace, the trip is on, the tickets are booked, and I’ll be in that beautiful country for 10 whole days! More on the itinerary in another posting.

I’m not done with my 2012 goals yet. But there’s no rush, I’ve got all year.

Christmas? Bah-Humbug!

Indeed, that is not how I feel about Christmas. But now that it’s over, I’m grateful it only comes once a year.
It was a great time spent with my family (thank you for asking) and we had plenty to laugh about. I think the best quote of Christmas Eve was six year old Aiden saying, “This is America’s favorite Dressing” as she brought the Ranch over to her salad plate. Seriously, where did she get that?

I took over “hosting” Christmas Eve last year. It’s taken my little family a few years to find our niche after the “displacement.” But I think we’ve finally found our groove.

You see, growing up, we always went to Auntie Michelle’s house for Christmas Eve. Part of the Polish tradition of Wigilia (pronounced Va-Lee-Ah) is to cram all your family members into one house, share a traditional Polish meal, open presents and dance to polka performed live by the accordion player in the corner. Different families have different variations but the idea is the same: gather your family together.

Things changed after our accordion player passed away. Even after 13 years, it’s like there’s a void the family doesn’t quite know how to fill.

Maybe for this reason, maybe because the family has gotten so big, or maybe because my Aunties are getting older, the decision was made 5 years ago to change the Klerowski’s Wagilia to a “Family Christmas Gathering” the week before Christmas.

That left this branch of the Klerowski family with another void to fill and me feeling a little bitter. After all, you can’t just change centuries of tradition . . . especially without consulting me . . . and most of all, what shall we do on Christmas Eve now???!!!

There had to be a family party - that much was certain. I couldn’t let my nieces miss out on something magical that I had growing up.

We went to my sister’s for a few years then moved the evening festivities to my house as I lacked a holiday to host. But I was still missing that something special.

That’s when I decided to take over the holiday completely (muahahaha) and hope to get some of my magic back. Now, I plan the dinner, I plan the dessert, I plan the “entertainment” and I dictate the dress code - no kidding, I made my brother-in-law wear a tie last year!

Since I can’t play the accordion, I do my darndest to create a new kind of memories for the girls. Last year we dressed up all fancy and did a lot of dancing; this year we painted ornaments.

And since family dinners are very important for me, I try to create a new theme every year to keep things fresh. Last year’s theme was 1950’s and we had a roast dinner; this year was Italian with homemade Manicotti; next year I would LOVE to do a “Who” theme (from the infamous Dr. Seuss book How the Grinch Stole Christmas) but I’m not quite sure how to pull that off - yet.

 After dinner, we tear into our presents, exchange “thank yous” and hugs, change into our jammies and watch “A Christmas Story” on TBS. I confess, I fell asleep on the floor right before Ralphie had to change into those bunny pajamas.

I wish there was someone to take our picture. Of all of us in our pajamas, presents all over the floor, Aiden playing musical seats as Aubrey, Mom and Kelly piled on the couch under blankets, Michael in the recliner and me wearing my new boots zonked out on the floor.

I woke up to Aiden stepping on my arm-pit saying a chipper, “Oops! Sorry Auntie!” as she carried her new puppy dog around the living room looking for her shoes and everyone else was gathering their presents to go home.

And there it was, the magic I’ve been looking for!

I was struck then by how tight we are as a family, how comfortable we are being ourselves and it’s no big deal if you step on someone because it’s a small house and it happens when you throw a group of clumsy girls (and 1 brother-in-law) together.

I guess like the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge, I had to learn a Christmas lesson.

I can’t go chasing old memories trying to recreate past magic for my present. They had their own time and place. What’s important now is making the most out of the time I have with my family. The magic doesn’t come from what you do or the traditions that are held.

It comes from the people you choose to spend your time with, that essence of Wigilia - that gathering of your family. . . and I think I’ve got a pretty good bunch!