thanksgiving delayed…

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So, I’m a little late on this, but I just got the pictures from my little brother and I wanted to post them. This is the second time of done the turkey and I have to say that I think it looks pretty good. You have to love the Food Network and all of the helpful hints you can get from both the shows and the website: how long to cook the turkey, what kind of herbs to season it with, little tricks like putting butter under the skin (no low-fat holidays at our house). And, even better is that it tasted as good as it looked. Delicious…


There were just five us (and one was a baby) and we had more food than we ever could have eaten in one sitting (well, unless you include purging as an option, but bulimia just doesn’t sound like a very fun addition to Thanksgiving), but it sure was fun to see such a pretty table and enjoy such a good meal.

And just so none of you think that I am totally full of myself, the gravy was not my best work and I didn’t make quite enough of it, but the rest was great.

And after spending Christmas with my entire immediate family, I have a new appreciation for just a few of us getting together…which is another story for another day. But this little guy makes any holiday worth the price of family drama. I know I might be a little biased, but really you have to admit that he is adorable.

joys of christmas

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I am Santa Claus this year, and as such, I know every gift that I am getting. Ever since my parents divorced, Christmas has not been the same. And since my mom died, it has really changed. Don’t get me wrong. I still enjoy it, but it’s different. My dad’s wife is just not my mom and she never will be. The perfection of the deceased is something with which few can compete, and I realize this, but just the same, my mom was amazing when it came to Christmas, or any holiday for that matter.

The year before my mom died (well, month really), my sisters and I returned home from college to find our home decorated to the hilt. Candles were lit (one had actually burned the side of a post in our entryway–that’s my mom), the tree was flocked (always a flocked tree in the living room), stockings were hung, lights dotted our roof, and it smelled of Christmas. That was Christmas in the Andersen home (broken or not). Christmas morning we awoke to the same unreal mound of gifts to which we had become accustomed (especially since the divorce). I can’t recall whether my dad’s wife was there or not. Funny how some things get forgotten. It was the perfect Christmas.

This year promises to be another good Christmas. While the decorations don’t come close to my mother’s and the food will not be homemade, my entire family is going to be here. This is the first time in a long time we will all be together for something other than a funeral. Everyone arrives on Friday and I couldn’t be more excited. There are bound to be arguments, complaints and hurt feelings. But there will be laughter and love and food and gifts and fun. All of the things necessary for a perfect occasion.

We will go out and manage to spend a small fortune on the 23rd (this is normally the 24th, but seeing as how the 24th is a Sunday this year, it will have to occur the day before). We will each open our matching pajamas Christmas Eve. We will make gingerbread houses. Okay, not make, but decorate (the making of the gingerbread died with my mom). We will continue the traditions created by my mother and add to those the ones we have created since she left us. We will have our traditionally GINORMOUS breakfast. We will open gifts. We will watch children play with their new toys. We will talk about the newest niece who will join us in June. We will discuss our jobs. We will play Phase-10 into the wee hours of the morning. We will watch movies. We will gorge ourselves on chocolate and treats of all kinds. We will thank my dad for making Christmas as wonderful as ever. We will enjoy all of our fun toys in the ensuing months. And the memories will last a lifetime.

"it always works out."

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My mother was a wonderful person. She was not perfect and she wasn’t all knowing, but what I am discovering is that she was wise. Even 11 years after her death, her wisdom speaks to me daily.

With recent life events, I have been forced to carefully evaluate what I want out of life and how to get it. What I have discovered, upon reflection, is that my life has been full of twists and turns, not the least of which has been the last year, but it has been a life of achievement. I have lived a life, so far, that has been guided by feelings and dreams as much as anything. These dreams have turned into goals with plans and then become realities.

The dreams have changed as I have discovered myself, my strengths and my weaknesses, but the idea is the same. I discover what I want and I do what I need to do to get it. This may sound obnoxious, but my purpose for expressing is not to say, “Look at me. I’m so great.” My purpose is to express gratitude and, perhaps, impart a little wisdom from my mom.

I have been so blessed in my life. I have made some interesting (you can substitute good, poor, random, stupid, silly and spontaneous) choices in my life and had to go through some difficult times, but even in my darkest moments there is always a little voice that resonates in my soul, “It always works out.”

My mother’s words are never far from me. This phrase has made all of the difference for me and my siblings. We have faced, collectively, trials that I would never wish on anyone (okay, truth be told, maybe I’d wish some of them on a few people) and we have all wondered what God was thinking assuming we could handle certain things. We have all made a lot of mistakes. But we all know, deep in our souls that “it always works out” and we are always there to buoy one another up and remind each other that this is true.

At times in my life this phrase has truly frustrated me. In those moments when I have wanted to wallow in misery and throw the biggest self-pity rager you have ever seen, I have not been able to because I can always hear those words. I may get in a good cry now and again, or manage to stay in my pajamas for an entire day while eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, but not long after those few hours, the voice is there, telling me to keeping going because “it always works out.”

I don’t know why I was blessed to be raised by a mother who was so wise, or to be surrounded by siblings who jokingly subscribe to the Billy Madison mantra “O’Doyle Rules!”, but I am so grateful for such blessings.

As I get ready to head off on a new adventure (in a couple of years…some adventures take planning), I am excited because, even with the challenges of past mistakes that will make the trail a little more difficult to tread, my mother’s words are always there. “It always works out.”

fathers

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Okay, seriously, how cute is my nephew? It’s amazing how a child can just absorb you. I love the way, no matter what is going on in my life, one of my nieces or nephews can make me forget all of it. I love this age (he’s 13 months) when they are learning so much and their personalities really start to become evident. This child, in particular, is a boy, through and through, and a daddy’s boy at that. It’s also awesome (in the literal sense of the word) to watch my siblings develop into parents. I love watching my brothers with their children. They change. They become childlike. Their rough exteriors melt as they spend time with their kids. And this child, in particular, has his daddy wrapped around his finger. Maybe it’s the way my nephew’s face lights up when my brother gets home from work. Maybe it’s the way he wraps his arms around my brother’s neck and grips his shirt for dear life when someone approaches threatening to take him away. Maybe it’s the way he looks just like my brother did at that age.

Whatever it is, this child has my brother completely spellbound and it is such a wonderful thing to observe.

And, while this cute little toddler has the same effect on me, it’s just not the same. I’m a girl and, well, it’s just different. We are born mothers. We are made to adore babies. We start from the time we are little girls with our baby dolls that we dress and feed and put in strollers for walks around the family room. We have it in us long before we ever bear children. Why else would any of us go through 40 weeks+ of fatness, followed by hours of painful labor (well…that’s changed with the epidermal, but the fatness and pain of pregnancy still happen)?

But it’s different with men. They (and yes, I’m happily stereotyping) play with legos and trucks and dream of becoming astronauts and firefighters.
Something happens when a man looks at the face of a child that he helped to create. He becomes a father.

me against myself (and the treadmill)

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Tonight I won a battle I’ve been fighting for about a month. I finally made it to the gym. But it’s not just making it to the gym. I’ve done that a few times in the last month. But I felt something change. In fact, I really won the battle yesterday, because every success in life starts in the mind. What do I believe I can do? That’s the question that really makes the difference.

It’s interesting, as I have focused this month on the things for which I am grateful, to really see just what a wonderful life I have. There are very few things I have wanted in life that I haven’t received. Yes, some of those things were handed to me, but other things I’ve had to work very hard to accomplish. So, why haven’t I been able to be consistent in exercising? Something in my mind keeps me from doing it. I let all of these thoughts and feelings of inadequacy take over. And having been through hell recently has not helped.

Tangent – should you ever find yourself dating someone who feels it’s okay to say, “I’m sure someday I’ll think you’re as beautiful as other people think you are.” Run, don’t walk, in the opposite direction. I don’t care how great you think he is. I don’t care if he’s the best makeout you’ve ever had. I don’t care if he speaks French. I don’t care if he is brilliant. None of that makes up for someone caring so little about your feelings that he would say something like that to you.

Moving on…tonight I made it to the gym and it was amazing. I’m not in the shape I was five years ago, but you just can’t feel bad about yourself when you’re running on a treadmill. Even as I watched these girls who are in much better shape than I am, I thought, “I’m doing it. I’m here and I’m doing what I need to do.” As the Chinese proverb teaches, “The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

And there’s something so gratifying about feeling your heart pound against your chest and the burning in your legs as you push your body to its limits, even if it is the first step. Okay, so maybe not everyone feels quite like that…but you know you feel good when you move your body. Whatever your drug of choice, whether it’s going for a walk, attempting to play (is play the right word?) DDR, jumping on a trampoline, I promise it works. Maybe not the first time for everyone, but it does work. And it helps that I had on the really cute tracksuit pictured above.

Here’s a little excerpt of some findings that I thought were very interesting:
Effects [of exercise] on Emotional Disorders

Some research has suggested that exercise may have antidepressant effects. Although there is little strong evidence that exercise can help manage depression, a number of studies have suggested benefits. Research finding include:

Just 30 minutes of brisk exercise three times a week was as effective as medication in relieving the symptoms and reducing relapse in many patients with mild to moderate depression.

  • Over half of older women with depression that did not respond to medication improved with 10 weeks of exercise. (About a third of women who did not exercise also improved during that time.)
  • Studies on elderly, depressed patients report modest benefits from exercise, even in those who do not response to antidepressants. (Simply participating in a group activity may help improve mood.)
  • Teenagers who were active in sports have a greater sense of well being than their sedentary peers; the more vigorously they exercised, the better their emotional health.
  • A 2003 study found that physical inactivity is strongly linked to depression in children 8 to 12 years of age.

    • Here’s the link if you want to read more: http://www.well-onnected.com/report.cgi/000029_9.htm

    My advice for today? (Don’t you love that she who just started exercising is handing out advice?) Get up and move. It will make you happy! (If not today, eventually).

    *Please consult a physician before commencing any kind of exercise program.