Survival.

The world is on fire. 

California was. Literally. So much lost. So much to do to heal and recover. 

Hostages are being released and paraded through crowds chanting for their death. Cameras in their faces. Fear in their eyes. 

A baby celebrates his second birthday in captivity. If he is even still alive. Are any of the rest of them? #untiltheyallcomehome

A plane crashed into a military helicopter in DC. Heartbreaking. Horrifying. People hold their breath, hoping but doubting there will be survivors. 

DC is on fire in all the ways at this point, as the orange man paints the people and communities he fears with broad strokes. 

Executive orders. 

To distract us. Confuse us. Paralyze us in fear.

Western North Carolina still suffers. 

Let's dismantle FEMA, he says. 

His followers cheer. 

Women's rights. Demolished. By the white men who speak of what they do not know. 

Transgender individuals looked at with confusion. These are people. People who are loved. 

Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion. 

Blamed for what? 

Hearts break. 

And still. We stand as tall as we can. 

Hold and lift one another up. 

Raise our voices. 

Yes. We feel it. 

The fear. The exhaustion. The overwhelm. 

But we will not stop screaming. 

We will not fall into the trap of distraction. 

We will see and hear all. 

We will fight and survive. 

* Take care of yourselves, friends. Protect your peace, as only you can. Do not look away, but do not always look. I'm here if you need me. 💗

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Can You Imagine?

Can you imagine?

News of your loved ones missing traveling across the globe.

Over two hundred of them.

Missing.

Women.

Children.

Infants.

Babies. 

BABIES.

Grandmothers.

Grandfathers.

Can you imagine?

As the news travels people ask more questions.

And more.

And more.

What happened?

What do you mean they're missing?

We don't believe that.

What women?

What children?

What babies?

Can you imagine?

It's propaganda! 

They shout.

Cursing as they tear down the photos our people have worked so painstakingly hard to share.

There were no babies!

They scream.

As they take knives and scissors to the tape. To the photos. To scratch out their faces.

Can you imagine?

Professors.

Students.

Americans.

Immigrants.

Shouting. Screaming. Calling for the end of you, your missing loved ones, and anyone like you.

Can you imagine?

Walking down a city street and being told by someone to 'go back to your country' when you were born here and they were not.

When they don't want you to have an actual country.

When they believe the land that you identify as your homeland should be wiped clean of people like you.

Just as was done on October 7th.

To thousands of people.

Women. Men.

Children. Infants. Babies.

Grandmothers. Grandfathers.

Israelis. Americans. 

On their homeland. Or just visiting.

Lives cut down in an instant.

Can you imagine?

And those who remain missing.

All held captive.

Over one month since they were taken.

It's propaganda! 

They shout.

As they call.

For the extermination.

Of all Jewish people.

Can you imagine?

I never thought I could.

But now.

I can.

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What It's Like.

I am almost 51 years old.

I have watched as antisemitic sentiments and hate crimes have risen across America in recent years.

Not that they ever went away.

But the freedom that evil has experienced has been powerful. Fierce. Deadly.

I am almost 51 years old.

I was born in Brooklyn, NY. 

A place I never felt myself to be a major minority. 

A place I called home for much of my life.

A place that felt safe.

I am almost 51 years old.

And as I watch as the hatred against Jewish people grows and thrives?

I'm afraid.

As I hear the chants shouted at so-called peaceful protests?

I'm afraid.

Have you heard them?

Have you seen?

Have you been listening?

Watching?

Can you imagine?

I am almost 51 years old.

And before now I had never seen such death and carnage on my people in my lifetime. 

I had always heard, never forget and never again.

I never thought I would have to FEEL it. 

Your Jewish friends are afraid.

Your Jewish friends feel alone.

Your Jewish friends are watching. Waiting. Listening.

We hear the echo of our own voices.

We see the lack of condemning posts about Hamas and their actions.

We see you sharing your every day lives.

We comment, like, love, care.

And also ...

We wonder.

We question.

We try to breathe.

We question some more.

I am almost 51 years old.

And I never thought in my lifetime I would see this. Live this. Worry so. 

But here I am.

Living. Worrying. Breathing.

Questioning.

And that, my friends. 

That is what it's like.

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One Plus One

When you are the parent of an only child you sometimes receive inquiries as to whether or not you're going to have another.

I can say that during my daughter's ten years, thus far, I haven't been asked quite as often as you might expect or imagine.

But I've thought - to myself - to others - that I wasn't done.

I've thought - surely - surely I'm meant to have another child.

But life goes on.

Things change.

This is not something I have shared publicly.

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Seasons of Change

I've been kind of quiet around here lately.

It's not been my intention, but when things happen in my personal life I tend to put other things on hold to navigate through them. The blog becomes one of those things.

The blog.

My blog.

I'm not sure why I used that term. Maybe I'm growing out of blogging, but I doubt it.

I'm actually in the process of a much needed redesign. I'm close to having it completed but - alas - life has gotten in the way.

How dare it do so, right?

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Words Of Wisdom From The Mother Who Overslept

The face of a mom who totally overslept, thanks Melatonin, and is relying on the graciousness of a friend to get my child to school. #365feministselfie Also, sneaky #catsofinstagram behind me. ^..^

A post shared by Andrea Bates (@goodgirlgonered) on Feb 22, 2017 at 4:53am PST

So, this morning I totally overslept.

And for the first time in her five years of school my daughter got a "tardy".

Tardy. What a weird sounding word. Don't you think?

And here's my wisdom coming atcha.

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My Favorite Posts of 2016

2016 has been a heck of a year hasn't it?

Many of us have watched our friends and loved ones struggle, or have experienced struggles of our own. Some of us have had amazing years, but watching the world around us go through changes and the like leave us considering how bad it has been for so many.

So, in this line of thinking, I'm recapping my posts for the year. I'd like to share some of my favorite pieces of writing and fill you in on what's been happening for me.

Now, this year was not as exciting, motivating, - perhaps inspiring, even? - as last year was for me, but that's okay. There have still been high points.

DECEMBER

The Best Books I Read This Year

This one is pretty obvious. I do this kind of post each year, sharing my favorite books with my readers. It's hard to narrow it down - as I normally read about 50-60 books a year - and so I always wind up with more than I expected, but I wrap up the year with a great list of reads for you to sift through.

NOVEMBER

To My Friends Who Live With Chronic Pain

I wrote this letter to my friends living with chronic pain. It has to be hard, dealing with pain day in and day out. I want you to know that I see you. I see you there, making your way. And I send you strength and spoons.

OCTOBER

This Is 44 

I turned 44 this year. And I shared a little bit about it in my This is 44 post. Reflecting back on the year, looking forward, just - being.

SEPTEMBER

Empty

Sometimes it's so hard to figure out what to say when the world seems to be shattering and people's lives are ending and there's not a damned thing you can really DO about all of it. And so, for me? I wrote. 

AUGUST

My Relationship With Fall.

Fall leaves me with mixed emotions. Memories of birthdays and Halloweens and first days of school gone by. Thoughts of cooler temps, enjoyable weather and being outside. And then, the loss of my father. I don't love fall the way I used to.

JULY

I Have A Voice.

I have a voice. And in this world. In these days. Sometimes. All the time. Whenever I can. I try to use it. July was a rough month. As were the months before, and the months after. And so I wrote.

JUNE

Motherhood: I'm Keepin' It Real

Sometimes you find yourself loving life. Living and parenting at the top of your game. Other times? Not so much. This is me. Keepin' it real about motherhood.

MAY

Help Support The 24th Stamp Out Hunger Food Drive

Not a very personal post in March. I didn't write all that much. But I remind you - then, now, every day, every month - the importance of donating to your local food bank. People in need rely on these organizations for their next meal. They rely on us and our donations to fill their family's bellies. Please help if you can.

APRIL

6 Ways To Manage Parenting Without Losing It

A few reminders from me on how to navigate motherhood (or fatherhood) and find yourself a stronger parent because of it. It's not easy, raising these individuals we call our children, and finding ways to better engage - to better manage our time and our emotions - all of these are helpful. 

MARCH

Stop And Take Pause.

Sometimes you have nothing to share. Nothing to say - nothing to write. And so, you don't. Not for a while. And then, it comes, inspiration, if only enough motivation to give you a boost and encourage you to write something. Anything. This is that reminder. 

FEBRUARY

I SLAY.

I sing my own praises for a moment or two. Yep. I know. But hey, isn't that what blogging is for? What some people think it's entirely about? It's an outlet. A place for our voice to shine. For us to sing from the rooftops - whether it's good or bad news - and so, here I am. Slaying. If only for that moment.

JANUARY

Why I Take So Many Selfies

If you follow me on Instagram you know I am fond of the selfie. I'm a fan. I've shared my share of pictures of myself that I've taken of myself. And yes, sometimes they're good pics. And sometimes they're a version of myself I would normally keep hidden - but hey - it's okay, it's me. It's who I am. And so, I share anyway. This here? This is why.

And a few more January posts because I couldn't pick just one:

My People

Why I Don't Make Resolutions

So - how was your year? Did you recap this year? I didn't really want to, and then I decided to do it anyway. This is me. This was my 2016. 

And we move forward into this new year, creating new posts, new shares, taking all the new selfies, and just simply being us. Whoever we are. I hope you'll join me in this leg of my journey. I'm still here, hanging by a thread sometimes, feeling amazing on others, and, well, just being me. You do you, friends, and be sure to share with the rest of us to remind us we're all on our own paths at the very same time. 

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Motherhood: I'm Keepin It Real

I yell at my child.

I do.

I did tonight.

It broke my heart after I did it.

She cried. I cried.

But I hit a wall.

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My heart hurts.

The words, they don't come.

The pictures, I look at them often. Each one more precious than the next.

My heart, it hurts.

My head spins.

My breathing slows.

I need to push through. The rapid heartbeats, the deep breaths. Puffy and swollen eyes.

Each one of my tops stained with salty tears.

Lights flicker. Bulbs pop. A ball rolls into the kitchen.

Solitaire starts itself on my mom's computer.

The stash of cookies dwindles.

Cakes get thrown away.

Stale sprinkles fill my mouth, jelly filling, blueberry pie.

I look to find fullness. My heart has a hole in it that needs to be gone.

Chocolate cake and dried fruit and mints and grilled cheese sandwiches.

The matzo ball soup, the noodle kugel. Things for a Shiva call I can't bring myself to eat.

A Brooklyn bagel, what I longed for each trip home. What they brought me every trip south.

Dozens upon dozens and I couldn't have a single one.

They just aren't quite the same without my daddy smiling from across the kitchen table.

I don't know where to begin but I just need to pour out some words. These might not be the right ones, but they are mine. All mine.

And so, I share them. And then, I cry.

But it's okay. Because he loved me. And I love him.

A whole bunch, forever and always.

Love you, Daddy.

Thank you for always making me smile, laugh, and ensuring that I never felt a lack of love for even a moment.

* I wrote this a few days ago and have been trying to insert a picture since then. My iPad is not cooperating, but much of the technology surrounding my mom and I this week has not been, so I hold off, and promise that pictures will follow soon. Perhaps my iPad knows I am not truly ready? We shall see ...

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From My Archives: The Challenge of Blogging

* What do you find most challenging about blogging?

Wouldn't it be easy for me to say everything? But that would so not be true.

I love blogging. I love writing. I love being me. I love revealing more of who I am to the world at large, or the 400 or so people who may choose to read me on any given day. Or something like that.

I love reading what other people have to say - about themselves, their family members, their friends, books, TV shows, their jobs, their wishes, hopes and dreams. And whatever else is on their minds.

I love connecting. I love putting myself out there and receiving even the tiniest bit of validation in return.

I love commenting. I love reminding people that their words are being read, even if it's just by me.

I HATE no-reply-at-blogger ... uhm, yeah. That's a pet peeve as if I can't get back to you or figure out where you blog or how to email you it's going to drive me somewhat crazy. And with so many people moving to WordPress, that is definitely difficult and showing up more often. I wish there were a way to adjust things so at least I'd know their URL info when they comment.

I'm not the hugest fan of captcha either, and think that people would fare better with comments when they remove that and moderate if they are that worried about spam. I was a late convert to that as I figured it would cause mayhem, but all is well in the GGGR world. Whew. It's all good. (Knock on wood 3x or something like that!)

And sometimes I would say the most challenging thing about blogging is ME.

That would be my answer. Because you know what? It's MY blog. MY space. I put the criteria up for myself. I set myself up to fail. I am the only one who can tell me that I'm too small, too fluffy, too easy, too whatever else I might categorize myself as on any given day.

I learned a lot of things this past weekend at the conference. My very first blogging conference experience. But I also learned that it's okay to just be me. I may not be as big a blogger as some, or as small as others, but the same way I convince myself to accept my size, my motivation or lack thereof, and who I am inside and out, I need to do the same with blogging.

I need to remind myself that I belonged at that conference in Asheville. I belong out here in the blogosphere. I belong wherever I deem myself as belonging. I am worthy. I'm special. I'm me. And I am not going to challenge that anymore.

Or at the very least, not as often as I have in the past. Because damnit, I'm good enough. I'm sweet enough. I'm cute enough. And people like me. So there!

*This work was originally posted here on 6/30/11 after I attended my first Type-A Parent Conference. Many of these sentiments remain the same for me now, so I have decided to pull from my own archives and share. Let me know what you think!

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I'm a little bit country ...

Let's face it, by now I'm a lot more country than anyone would ever imagine me being.

Let me walk you through my day yesterday.

We got up fairly early and left the house. Hubby stayed home from work as we were headed to test ride a boat that we have had our eye on.

Longish drive. Boat is good. Kiddo shouted "woo hoo" and "wheeee!" the entire 10 minute ride. Or so.

Prior to heading out we stopped at Sheetz to pick up breakfast. It's a gas station. Seriously.

We don't go there that often, but enough in the last week or so that my daughter looked up and read the signage: SHEETZ. When the time is right we'll explain to her that bed sheets have an S and not a Z at the end.

So, let's continue.

Driving along towards the marina, later in the day, and I hear my daughter shouting from the back seat.

"Go! Go! Go! Run! Go!!!!"

I turn from where I was looking just in time to watch a turkey cross the road.

What the WHA? A TURKEY! That gives a whole new spin to her favorite chicken-cross-the-road jokes.

Now, I can't remember if it was before or after the turkey, but hubby pulled down a certain dirt road and we watched a batch of birds fly off. All except one. Hubs hit the brakes and that little fecker DID NOT MOVE. For real. We started backing up and he eventually flew away. It was a he. I mean, I just know that much has to be true. (A girl would have gotten her behind OUT of there.)

A while later, leaving the marina? Off to the side of the road I find myself gasping as I see two deer running. Fortunately in the other direction. Whew.

Now, where does that leave us? I talk to my brother and explain the boat. He defines me as a country bumpkin. In the nicest possible way.

I don't tell him it's our most recent mission to try all of the pickle chips available in North Carolina. That's a whole 'nother story!

I laugh, and our girls get into a Why did the turkey cross the road discussion. This can last for hours if we don't intervene. Seriously. City child. Country-ish child. Doesn't matter. Five-year-olds will make the joke their own for hours. HOURS.

Lookie how cute mine looks at the Got to be NC fest this past weekend? Feeding the animals at the farm? Yeah. She's ALL country. Born here and NC-blooded!

Let's wrap up the day with a 50+ minute walk around the 'hood with a friend.

I spy a bunny rabbit running (hopping?) across the street like wildfire in the darkness of the night.

She points to what I thought was a shadow of a leaf and we pause in our tracks as a toad jumps off out of our way.

I don't live in the boonies. I don't. I just live far enough away from the world of my youth that this city girl is turning a little bit more country by the day!

Oh ... and stay tuned for more on that boat!

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Let Me Potty in Peace!

Seriously. First off - you know I have a young-ish child since I'm using the word potty. Or should I say still using it? Either way, you get me - yes?

She'll be 5 next month.

I try to say "Do you have to go to the bathroom?" but it almost always turns into, "Do you have to go potty?" I don't know why that is - it just IS.

So here I am, this morning, wishing for a few minutes to myself while struggling with the fact that she woke up before nine ... and yes, call me lucky, think whatever you'd like of me, but the kid doesn't go to bed til after ten. And that would be early.

It stinks.

Please don't lecture me on stricter bedtimes, a tighter schedule, so on and so forth. We've tried. Them all. She's a night owl like her mother. Can't seem to stop talking or shut her brain off to get to sleep. Everyone says that will change when she goes to school, but me? I'm not so sure. She's too much like me for me to believe that so when the time comes I'm just going to have to will it to happen. That oughta work, right?

Back to the potty. You know you want to go back there. Sigh. I wish I could. Maybe I'd have a few minutes of quiet time and/or privacy. Without a child talking to me, cracking open the door or causing mayhem right outside of it (that would be what happened this morning). It's enough that when she IS asleep I have to shut the dogs outside as our puppy tends to stick her nose in as if to say - hey, what's going on here and why can't I be a part of it?

Seriously, dog? I know the way you make friends is to sniff other doggie butts and pee and poop and all. But mine? Off limits.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh, yes. Privacy on the potty. Does it ever happen again? To those with older children, do you ever have that ten minutes? Five? The ability to stretch it out and actually read a chapter or two? Oh, come on. If you're a mom or dad you likely know what it's like to try to escape behind the door with the current book or magazine and hopes you'll actually get through some of it, right?

Sigh.

Dreaming of potty time. It's not just for kids (or parents dreaming that their kids will finally get to the potty and drop the diapers, saving them money on seemingly useless and non-bio-degradable landfill directed products) anymore.

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5 things: A Writer's Workshop Prompt

I'm linking up with Mamakatslosinit this week and picked one of her prompts (because I saw it over at my friend Rachel's 'hood and knew I had to do it!) to use for this post:

Five Things. List 5 things we don’t know about you, 5 things you’re knowledgeable about, 5 things you know nothing about, and 5 things you believe.

Now, if you've been reading me for a while you might know some of the things I am about to mention, but forgive me, sometimes it's hard to be creative and new!

* 5 things YOU don’t know about ME *
1. I used to be able to tie a cherry stem with my tongue (it's been a while but I'd like to think I still could if prompted!). Truth.

2. I have been parasailing. Alone. In the sky. Yes. Yes, I have.

3. Most of the people I have dated [and the one I subsequently married] have been men I met at work.
4. The first concert my husband and I went to together was Bare Naked Ladies.

5. My favorite movie is Dirty Dancing. It is one of a handful of flicks I can and will watch every single time it appears on my television. And quote. Dodgeball is another. (Oops. Ssh. Don't tell anyone!)

* 5 things I'm knowledgeable about *

1. General Hospital. Go on. Ask me anything.

2. The '86 Mets. The World Series that year. Nothing better.

3. New York City. This includes the other boroughs, although not necessarily all of them. (I'm lookin' at you, Bronx and Staten Island!)

4. Pizza. Fer realz, yo. I mean, I AM from New York and all.

5. Matters of the heart. I just am. That's who I am.

* 5 things I know nothing about *

1. Bacon. Unless it's turkey I've got nothing.

2. Geography. I suck at it, people. Plain and simple.

3. Physics. Say what?

4. College basketball. Gasp. I know. I live in the Triangle. It's horrible. I figure I'll learn when my daughter attends a college in town.

5. Snow cream. Despite living here for so many years, each year I hear about it and just don't get it. It's not something we Northern girls do back home. Seriously. How does that work, again? Fresh clean snow. Vanilla? Something like that? Yeah - okay. I'll stick with Edy's or Ben and Jerry's.

* 5 things I believe *

1. That a person's heart can feel so full that they think it might explode.

2. That cancer sucks so royally and some day there will be a cure. I also believe that the cure will come in my daughter's lifetime - if not my own. (But I seriously hope I live to see the day.)

3. That I have been truly blessed to have the most amazing parents. 'Nuff said.

4. That my brother and sister-in-law are two of the most important people in my life.

5. That I do not have to be a size two, six or ten to be a beautiful woman. I am already there - despite or because of my current size. And the size of my heart and soul are what matter more than that of my body.
Thanks for listening, everyone. And if you shared your lists, I'd love to see them. I haven't caught up with all of the linkers yet over at Mama Kat's.

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PINT: I'm finally posting again!

Head on over here if you want to link up to today's PINT:

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A Holiday Giveaway!

Okay, everyone, this is the time of the year that we buy and buy and buy for everyone else. Or we try to budget as best we can and buy them (the kids, the spouse, the grandparents, etc.) smaller items, use coupons and freebies and go above and beyond to surprise everyone else in our worlds.

I'd like to offer you a chance to win something that is just for you.

Yes, YOU! (GASP!)

Okay, okay ... you can also use the GC to get that perfect gift for someone on your list, but I really hope you use it for yourself!

I was recent given an opportunity to pick something to review from NOVICA, one of the leading fair trade artisan websites. They work with National Geographic to give talented artisans around the world a place to express their artistic talents and provide access to the world market. They have thousands of top fair trade corporate gifts and home decor items on their website.

And while choosing something for myself (review to come later!) I fell in love with their products. The jewelry. Oh, the jewelry.

They also have loads of items to choose from in their Corporate Gifts collection. And pssst, guess what? They have a jewelry section there, as well. Go look!

They have a beautiful assortment of green items. Unique items, even a section of things for under $30! You can buy something for yourself AND a gift for someone else!

And on top of all these incredible items that help people across our great world, Novica also has a Microfinance program, where you can help to loan money to people -- loans as "small" as $25 -- to help them get themselves started as a business. You can apply for or contribute to a loan here.

So Novica has offered me a $50 gift card to give to one of my loyal readers. I'm so excited! Keep reading to find out how to enter:

MANDATORY ENTRY:

-- Go over to NOVICA.com and let me know one item you are totally interested in.

OPTIONAL EXTRA ENTRIES:
-- Follow me through GFC
-- Follow me on Twitter @Goodgirlgonered
-- Follow Novica on Twitter @Novica

-- Tweet about this giveaway (you can copy and paste if you'd like) and provide a link:
Head on over to @goodgirlgonered to enter a @Novica #Giveaway today! http://bit.ly/i97ywC

-- Tell me one Charitable thing you have done this past year (2010)! This is on the honor system, but an extra entry if you can *prove* it (show me a link to the post about it, etc.)!

Winner will be drawn the morning of Monday, December 13th.
Thanks for playing and good luck!

** I borrowed Novica's logo for this Giveaway. I was not compensated for hosting this giveaway, but will be posting an item to review from them. That upcoming review was not in payment for hosting this giveaway. It was my choice to split the available credit to a review and giveaway for my readers, at their offering.**

Congrats to Commenter #5, royaldixie who said:
I follow in GFC, newmommyin08 AT yahoo DOT com

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We Reap What We Sow ...

Or Get What We Give. Karma's a b!tch. Or whatever the saying really is.

Seriously, lately I have been watching and listening to people in a different way. I watch as they roll their eyes, laugh at the expense of others and speak in whispers. I sense their negativity, the tones they take with others when they speak, what they throw out into the universe. I fight hard to avoid it, and to be sure I don't absorb it.

We truly do reap what we sow, don't we? I have no idea exactly where that saying stems from, or if it's a religious saying that I probably shouldn't use, but the sentiment stays the same, in my opinion. I'm a true believer in Karma. I feel that what you throw out to the universe is what you get back. And if you haven't yet, no worries, my friend, you will.

Say someone is a Negative Nelly ALL. THE. TIME. The one time she decides to open up and be friendly she's probably going to find herself slighted. It may be intentional, it may not be, but sometimes it's just enough already, ya know? I mean, how many times can you offer things up to this person, or others, and have her come back and negate your efforts before you turn around and say, I'm done. I need to cut myself off from this person before I absorb what she gives off. Seriously. Sometimes we have to put ourselves first. In this situation that can certainly come into play. So those out there who simply find nothing to celebrate and appreciate? I'm sending you all the happy vibes I can. Because until you change your outlook you're not going to get anything back but what you send out. I'm telling you -- trust me.

And what about you, you over there in the corner, hiding away from the rest of us and talking with your select few about everyone else? Yeah. I see you. I know I'm among those you've recently targeted. And you know what? I am done caring. I am. Others may care and may act a certain way around you because they fear they might become your next target. Me? Not so much. I couldn't care less. That means I don't care. Because what you're tossing out to the universe? It's beautiful, really (sense the sarcasm there?) and it'll make it's way back to you. So when you b!tch about all the things that go wrong in your life and complain about all the things that aren't going your way? I'll sit back with that smug, know-it-all kind of feeling, because, as I have mentioned, Karma is a b!tch sometimes. She knows all.

Now, as I write all of this out I realize it has taken on a bit more negativity than I anticipated. And it also seems like I'm throwing out some of that into my own universe. I'm trying not to, I promise. I really just have had this on my mind. Especially as the holidays draw near, and I watch people just going on and on and on about things, and never opening themselves up in a way that shows they're truly present. Truly there to be more than just visible, but to participate and become a part of what surrounds them.

Now - as the year comes to a close - which kind of person do you prefer to be? I know for me, as much as I gripe, I'm truly thankful and blessed with the life that I have. And although there are days I tell my husband it's time to take me out back, or trade me in for a younger model (believe me, I wish I could trade MYSELF in for a younger model some days!) because this hurts, or this has happened, I try to give what's best of me to others and try to maintain the positive outlook. It isn't easy, but nothing ever truly is, right?

'Tis the season and all that jazz ...

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Where does Santa live?

So, in case you're new to my 'hood, I'll fill you in on our household demographics. I'm Jewish. Born and raised. Hubby is not. He's really not much of anything. We say he's agnostic, I guess. He does celebrate Christmas, though. Not much of an Easter fan, but Christmas is the holiday for families and whatnot.

So - you're wondering - what about the little one? Well, she's going to be brought up Jewish, but I also would like for her to know and understand how her father grew up, as well. And the other day I mentioned this to him (the husband) and said, you're going to have to let me know what you want to do for Christmas this year. See, this is the first year in ages that we're staying home (as in NC!) for the holidays. ALL of the holidays. We were home for Christmas the first year after the wee one was born, but we had arrived home from NYC just the day or two before, and we were all sick. And it's not like she knew any better that year, so we kind of overlooked the holiday, for the most part.

And this year Chanukah starts during the early days of December, so it won't fall with Christmas at all. And we'll light the candles every night, as we've done in years past, and we'll give her a small gift each night, and so on and so forth. Hubby is truly involved in celebrating Chanukah, so it's not an issue. After all, when he asked my parents if he could ask me to marry him he did promise that any future children would be raised Jewish.

Now, I'm not sure if he signed anything - - but all the same, a deal was struck.

Of course, we never considered that we'd be raising said child in anywhere down below the Mason-Dixon line. Or wherever the heck we are. Let's just say being Jewish down here isn't the "norm," it's not traditional, or really recognized much past the endcaps of the aisles in Target or Wal-Mart.

So yesterday we were driving around a bit and my husband and I were chatting, and the kiddo pipes up from the back seat and says, "Can we go to the wall?" It was either wall, or something that totally rhymed with wall. We looked at one another, puzzled.

"Uh, where?"

"The wall. The place where we can see Santa." Laughter filled the front seat.

"You mean the mall? Ah, yes. Santa's not there right now."

"It's OK. I want to go there." [Makes total sense, btw, as she told me the other day she had no desire to see Santa this year. So why she's thinking about where he is - I have little clue.]

Hubby decides this is all too much for him. "What do you know about Santa?"

"I do."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Where does Santa live?"

"At the mall."

We are so screwed.

There WILL be a day in our future, our pretty Southern Jewish belle will be at school and our phones will ring because some child is crying because our daughter has told him/her that Santa lives at the mall, and not at the North Pole where his/her parents told him/her that Santa lives.
SO totally screwed.

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