The holidays are here. I'll say this now because I have no shame. I'm ready to eat, folks, and not just at my house. I'm dreaming of all the tasty goodness that awaits me the day after at Yvonne's. I'm that much of a fat girl.

The cool thing is that last year Dorian was only 1 or 2 months old when the holidays rolled around. He wasn't aware he had hands much less presents under the tree or (Tof)urkey in the oven. But now he's going to be in that damn Christmas tree every time I turn around. This boy also loves to eat so Thanksgiving is going to wow him too.

This year seems to have just flown right by. You know, I've said this before, for such a boring and mundane life, it sure takes up a lot of time. I wonder if in my struggle to keep ahead of the dishes and the laundry and the diapers and the feeding I'm missing out on just sitting there with my son. Just being there and connecting with him. Lately it seems like I am always multi tasking. While he eats breakfast I clean the kitchen. While he's in the tub, I'm doing my makeup beside it. When he's playing, I'm sweeping or unpacking or…something. There is always SOMETHING that needs to be done. And I'm right there, ya know, but I might as well be a million miles away. I can't do that with my son. I can't sleepwalk through his most important years, the very reason I'm staying home. So, how do you find that balance? How do you keep the clutter at bay as well as you can while getting some errands done and reading the Five Little Pumpkins just one more time?

We've started doing little things. Now, instead of just throwing him in the stroller and zooming him around, I let him walk all the way to the mailbox. When you have things to get done, walking 20 feet with a one year old is EXCRUTIATINGLY slow. Grass grows faster than these kids stumble about. Then he'll hear a plane and go still to be certain before scanning overhead and pointing with a grunt. Or, and I love this one, he'll play peek-a-boo with the moon. How ridiculously friggin cute is that?

....balance….that's what I need...

Growing up in foster homes I never really had any holiday traditions. When we were older and able to go live with our father (a quadriplegic so child services refused to give him custody but my addict mother was acceptable..pshaw...) we did have a few special things we did. My father has passed on now and I have a one year old I'd like to start new holiday traditions with. With my dad we always opened one present on Christmas Eve. I have also started picking up Christmas ornaments (when I can find them) on trips and special outings. I'd love to hear what holiday traditions all of you have. This way I can take from yours to start building my new little family's traditions!

Well Christmas is here again and as much as I would like to ignore it and no matter how bah humbug I feel, I have to celebrate regardless. This is Dorian's first Christmas that he'll actually understand and my best friend loves this time of year so no way will he let me squeak on by.

Despite my bad attitude, I have noticed that motherhood has mellowed me considerably. My usual bitter tongue is sweeter. It seems to have taken the wind out of my angry sails and the chip on my shoulder, well it seems a little smaller. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a b&%!#. Nothing will ever change that, it's just who I am. But now, it isn't about me anymore so no matter how much I wanna piss all over this heart warming reason for the season parade, I look at my son's little face and I just can't do it. I can't squash or squander one moment of wonder for my little guy. It makes me swallow back my grumbling and plaster on a big smile. Hell, I'm even excited by the idea of my little boy on Christmas morning. Crapbag! Motherhood has made me a better person...at least for him.

A friend recently asked me what I was most afraid of or what I wanted most for my son. I've thought about it and I want to give him what I never had, a childhood. I want to encourage and nurture the sense of wonder and hope and that anything is possible imagination that only comes in childhood. It's a huge and powerful thing, a kid's imagination, but it's fragile. Life can snuff it out in a second. My bad attitude could poison and diminish it. Once gone, once diminished, it never really comes back. So, while it's still there, I will encourage it. I will let him wear his superman costume to the store. I will let him skip a school day to go to Disneyland with (his favorite) Aunt Shannan just because he will never be this little again. All those magic little firsts run out so fast and as we get older, they are replaced by bad (though sometimes necessary) firsts. So before life beats it out of him, I will shelter and nurture a belief in Santa and the tooth fairy. We'll sometimes have ice cream for dinner and we'll always remember that this day will never come again. So, in between the things we have to do, we'll take time to do the silly special things that make it all worth it.