One word

No improvement needed here—perfect as they are.

Improvement. That's my one word, and I'm sticking to it.

That one word is my response to a question posed yesterday on Facebook by SITS Girls, a network of bloggers I—and several other Grandma's Briefs readers—belong to, a network built around the idea that "The Secret to Success is Support".

The question SITS Girls asked its members yesterday: "What's the one word you hope defines 2012?"

I hemmed, hawed, considered (but never consulted) the thesaurus. Then I settled on improvement. Mostly because I desperately want, desperately need 2012 to be an improvement over 2011...and 2010 and 2009—the years that became so tough in so many ways since losing my job. The years that have been so tough for so many since losing jobs, losing retirement investments, losing savings of all sorts, and, for many, losing hope.

I thankfully never lost hope. Ever. And my hope for 2012 is that it's marked by my chosen word: improvement. Not just improvement in year-over-year as a whole, but improvement in nearly every single sector of my life.

I hope to see improvement physically. I need to eat better, exercise more, feel fit to function in far better ways than I have been.

I hope to see improvement financially. I have little gigs here and there that foster this improvement, but I need to improve my numbers—of gigs, of words written, of options. Mostly, I need to improve the numbers in my bank account.

I hope to see improvement in my home, and I have more home improvement projects on my plate than I care to admit. Accomplishing even just one or two would surely be an improvement, so success in this sector is a given. I hope.

I hope to see improvement in my piano playing, picture taking, recipe making, wrinkle erasing, and more.

I hope to see improvement in the quality of relationships I have, the friendships I maintain.

I hope to see improvement in the number of hours I spend reading—for enjoyment, not review or research.

I hope to see improvement in my ability to relax...without guilt...without reservation and unnecessary explanation.

And I hope to see improvement in the amount of time I devote to gratitude, thankfulness, appreciation. Of all I already have. All I already am. All I already can do and give and be.

Improvement takes work. And persistence, motivation, perseverance. And the ability to overcome frustration, as I'm sure I'll get frustrated along the way to improvement—frustrated with myself, with others, with circumstances beyond my control. (Especially with circumstances beyond my control, which makes me consider that I should really work on improving my need to control everything, too.)

With work, persistence and more, paired with hope—humongous heaps of high hopes—that one word will be mine. Improvement. In all areas. In this year over years past.

Improvement. That's my one word, and I'm sticking to it.

Photo of Bubby and Baby Mac: Shamelessly stolen from Megan's Facebook page.

Today's question:

As the SITS Girls asked, "What's the one word you hope defines 2012?"

Sing it: Only six days 'til Christmas

A little ditty to sing (very loosely) to the tune of 12 Days of Christmas:

Only six days 'til Christmas, wish someone would give me

a muzzle so I'd stop eating all I see.

On the fifth day 'til Christmas, wish someone would give me

more energy,

and a muzzle so I'd stop eating all I see.

On the fourth day 'til Christmas, wish someone would give me

magically finished greeting cards,

more energy,

and a muzzle so I'd stop eating all I see.

On the third day 'til Christmas, wish someone would give me

an elf to wrap the presents,

magically finished greeting cards,

more energy,

and a muzzle so I'd stop eating all I see.

On the second day 'til Christmas, wish someone would give me

a personal shopper for final groceries,

an elf to wrap the presents,

magically finished greeting cards,

more energy,

and a muzzle so I'd stop eating all I see.

On the last day 'til Christmas wish someone would give me

an easy-to-learn DSLR camera for taking incredible shots of my family—including Megan, Preston, Bubby, and Baby Mac, who will arrive Christmas afternoon—plus extended family for a sure-to-be-festive, not-likely-to-happen-again-for-a-very-long-time holiday celebration,

a personal shopper for final groceries,

an elf to wrap the presents,

magically finished greeting cards,

more energy,

and a muzzle so I'd stop eating all I see.

Merry Monday to one and all!

photo: stock.xchng

Today's question:

What do you wish someone would give you in these last days 'til Christmas?

A wonderful world indeed

It's been a frenzy of a week for many, myself included. As the number of days before Christmas gets lower, the stress level gets higher. So today a I offer a brief respite from the prep and panic with this short video—an homage to Sir David Attenborough to commemorate his final appearance on BBC as well as his last production for the network, Frozen Planet.

It is indeed a wonderful world!

Credit: I was first introduced to this video via a mailing from Open Culture.

Today's question:

What about today makes it wonderful for you?

It goes on and on, my friend

I placed the last of our Christmas decorations on Friday, setting out all the Santas, the last of the village, the table centerpiece, and the kitschy this and that that goes here and there. The holiday decorating was done.

Or so I thought.

As Jim and I pulled into the driveway after church yesterday, he said, "Ya know, I'd really like to put some white lights in the trees out front." To which I agreed...and thought of all the other decorative things I'd like to do to in order to crown our home sufficiently Christmas-y before Bubby, Baby Mac and their parents arrive on Christmas Day.

So much for being done. Just like the song, holiday decorating doesn't end.

Song? What song? you may ask. I'm talking about the following little earworm ditty, which you may recall with much disdain after just one bar or so:

Like holiday decorating and that obnoxious song, there are plenty more things that never end—some good, some bad, some just the way it is:

• Watching one's weight. You may watch it go up, you may watch it go down. But always, it's watched...often with much trepidation...especially around the holidays...especially if you can't stop eating those <cuss> Ferrera Rocher. (Not that I have been; I'm just saying.)

• Yard work. Spring, summer, fall, winter, there's always—always—more to do in yards front, back, and side.

• Home improvement. There's always—always—something else that needs repairing, replacing, remodeling, repainting, recaulking, redoing.

• Learning. You can always be smarter.

• Self improvement. You can always be more emotionally stable better.

• Grocery shopping. You may think you're done...only to realize you forgot something. Even if you do get every single thing on your list, you're not done and will have to go back again. Maybe the next day, maybe the next week, but you will have to go back. The most dreaded chore of all truly is Never. Ever. Done.

• Parenting. It never ends. I scoff at those who look (or looked) forward to that magical age of 18, when the child supposedly becomes an adult, leaves home, no longer needs you. Yes, I scoff...and chuckle...and await the cries of "Why didn't you tell me it never ends?" Well, those of you with youngsters, I'm telling you now: It never ends!

• Grandparenting. I'm assuming on this one as I'm still fairly close to the starting line, but I'm figuring it's much like parenting: There is no finish line. And that's a good thing.

• Aging. And that's a good thing, too—at least considering the alternative.

I could go on and on, my friends, as I have no doubt this list itself is a list that doesn't end.

There is one thing that does indeed end, though, and that's my time allotted for writing this post. So consider this The End.

(Oh, one more thing: Enjoy your earworm. No matter how hard you try, the replaying of that song doesn't end. It will be stuck in your head all day. You're welcome.)

Today's question:

What would you add to the List of Things That Never End?

From both sides now

Even several years into it, an empty nest can be hard to get used to. Especially during the holidays. No longer do I have play-by-play announcements from the family room of who's up next in the Thanksgiving parade as I prep the turkey in the kitchen. No longer must I search high and low for a favorite Christmas CD that's been nabbed from the holiday-music tin by a teen who wants to play it in her room or car. Nor do I have youngsters—or teenagers—waking up early as can be on Christmas morning, excitedly serving as the alarm that time had come for celebrations to begin. 

I miss all that and more—even the pilfered music—that was part and parcel of a full nest. Every now and then I indulge in pity parties, bemoaning the occasional sadness Jim and I now share since our daughters have grown up, moved on.

In my self-centered, self-pitying mindset, I often, no, I pretty much always forget that my daughters face their own sadness and challenges in the growing up, the moving on. Especially during the holidays. My youngest daughter, Andrea, recently—unintentionally—reminded me of exactly that.

Andrea was scheduled to work on Thanksgiving and wouldn't be able to spend the day with the family. As a counselor in a residential treatment facility for troubled adolescent girls, staff is required to be on-site 24/7, and Andrea's regular hours include Thursdays, which, of course, Thanksgiving was. Which meant she had no choice but to cover that shift. It was to be her first Thanksgiving absent from our table, so she and some friends who also had to work that day—plus a few who simply couldn't make it to their own family homes for the holiday—planned a holiday gathering of friends for later in the evening, after the workday was done.

The idea Andie couldn't be home for Thanksgiving—that now two of my three daughters wouldn't be around for the day—saddened me. But in these crazy economic times a job must come first, so I accepted it. I didn't accept as easily, though, the seemingly nonchalant attitude from Andrea each time we discussed it. I never voiced it to her, but in all honesty, there were a few times I thought my youngest might just be asserting her independence and actually pretending to me that she had to work but in fact was planning a full day of holiday fun and frivolity with her friends instead of her family.

How wrong I was. Turns out Andrea was just doing her best to stay strong in the face of reality, of growing up, of being an adult, of needing to stay employed. Her tough facade crumbled Thanksgiving evening. On her way home from the gathering, Andrea called me in tears. The celebration with friends had been fine, the food was good, she assured me, but it simply wasn't Thanksgiving at home, and it broke her heart to feel so far away from family during a holiday for the very first time.

"I'm 26 years old," she said through her tears, "I'm just being stupid and a big baby, but I missed being home. It was just...so...hard!"

I realized at that moment how rarely I take into account what my girls have gone through, continue to go through, on the road to adulthood and independence from their parents. I focus only on what I'm missing, what I've lost.

I don't consider often enough Andrea's steadfast determination to continue traditions instilled in her childhood, everything from green eggs and ham on Saint Patrick's Day to pumpkin-carving competitions for Halloween. Or a holiday turkey dinner with friends that may be fine...but oh-so hard to get through without crying.

I don't consider often enough the role reversal for my middle daughter, Megan, who as a child definitely enjoyed the giving but wholeheartedly preferred and relished the receiving at Christmas. She'd happily pose with her piles of presents, giddy with the prospect of opening them. Once her picture was taken, she'd dive right in with unbridled joy, not worrying one whit what went on around her. Now as wife/Mommy/grown-up, Megan must care plenty of whits, as she plays supervisor of the family giving and receiving, making sure celebrations run smoothly, successfully. In other words, putting everyone else first. Which can be hard, is hard.

I don't consider often enough that my oldest daughter, Brianna, leads a solitary home life yet still does her darnedest to make her home a happy space filled with holiday joy to enjoy on her own. Just last week she decorated her tree, by herself, with no one to help string the lights, hang the ornaments, place the angel on top. "You have no idea how difficult it can be doing it all by yourself," she later told me.

And I don't know. Because I have a husband to help. And because after Brianna finished her own tree, decorating her own place, she hopped in the car and drove over to help Jim and me decorate our tree, our place.

"I had to come," she said when I thanked her for doing so. "With Megan gone now and Andrea not able to help this year, I didn't want you and Dad to be sad doing it alone. We have to ween you off such things slowly, Mom. I know it's hard."

She's right. It is indeed hard—for all of us. I need to consider that, I need to remember that. Especially during the holidays. 

Today's question:

What did you miss most about holidays at home when you first left the nest?

8 reasons besides Christmas December warms my heart

The cookie swap lineup a few years ago.1. My family's annual cookie swap, which has been happening for more than 25 years (no one knows the number for sure). It's the one tried, true, and continuing tradition I share with my mom and sisters, and all the kids and kids' kids we've produced.

2. My middle daughter's birthday, the goofy and great mother of my grandsons. Happy birthday, Megan!

3. My son-in-law's birthday, as equally goofy and great as my daughter to whom he's married and the sons to whom he's the dad. Happy birthday, Preston!

4. My dear friend's birthday, the one friend I've stayed (thankfully) close to for more years than any other. Happy birthday, Debbie.

5. The birthday of a friend from days long gone (but still a Facebook friend!). The high-school friend who graciously invited me to live with her when my mom moved mid junior year. The friend who, inexplicably so, was later diagnosed with MS, just as I was, just as her Dad had been years earlier. Truly, inexplicable. Thoughts of her always warm my heart, make me smile. Happy birthday (today!), Joanie.

6. My baby sister's birthday. A baby sister all grown up—grown up to be several inches taller than me, in fact, and oh-so much stronger in oh-so many ways. Happy birthday, Susan.

7. The anniversary of being laid off from my longest-held job. Three years ago I became an editor no more. I thought it was an end, but it was truly just the beginning of great and unexpected things. Happy anniversary to me...and to all my Special Sections co-horts who were laid off with (and some before) me! 

8. The countdown to a new year, a new year which holds the promise of being, as always, better than the one ending.

Today's question:

What about December besides Christmas warms your heart?

Toddler gratitude

As a Thanksgiving activity, Bubby and his preschool classmates crafted turkeys made of footprints and feathers. On each work of art, the teacher wrote what each toddler said he or she was thankful for.

Here is a photo of Bubby's masterpiece:

Did you catch what Bubby is thankful for? Bath toys. Yes, bath toys! Nary a mention of a loving Mommy and Daddy, an adorable baby brother, a cozy home, abundant health, always having plenty to eat.

And that's okay. Because, at three years old, Bubby surely takes for granted that all little boys, all little girls have such things.

At three years old, Bubby is blissfully unaware of the profundity of his good fortune, his bountiful blessings.

At three years old, Bubby surely has no idea that life could be any different.

For that, I am truly grateful.

Today's question:

Name one thing from your day so far that you're grateful for?