The Perfect Pair of Boots

Friday, December 23, 2011

Euseb

Most days I'm completely okay with not being a contender for the "Mom of the Year Award." Every once in a while I'll run into a super-cute, super-creative project that SuperMom out in blogland has devised to make the rest of us feel inferior. That inferiority doesn't usually last longer than the time it takes to read it, and with the click of a mouse, it's gone.

It's gone until December rolls around, that is. That's when I really feel the pressure to step up my game. Last year I incorporated the feast of St. Nicholas into our repertoire. Two years ago it was the Epiphany; albeit that's in January, but it all rolls into one when we turn the the page on November. This year I wanted to do something for Advent. And then there's the problem of an unnamed little elf that for the last couple of years has been showing up at the home of several friends and whose sole purpose, I'm convinced, is to cause me anxiety.

Who is this guy and where did he come from? And most importantly, why am I so intimidated by him? I can tell you one thing: If he made his appearance at any other time of the year, I wouldn't give him a second thought. But, alas, he comes in December and if the story is to be believed, some overachieving parents long ago set him on the shelf as a reminder to their young children that they were being watched. It's a cute tale and all, yet it was missing something; it was too Pagan for my needs; in its original form, just one more thing to add to an already-aggressive agenda. Nevertheless, he had my attention. I went back and forth on whether to splurge the 30 bucks ~ yes, 30 ~ and decided against it. I knew if I was going to take this on, I had to find a way to connect all the dots: St. Nicholas, Advent, the birth of Christ/Jesus' birthday.

So I came up with my own. This is Euseb:

I found him at the Dollar Store; not because I'm cheap ~ I looked at a Lladro (at Ross) and a Lenox at Macy's. Both of which were much more money; both of which didn't fit the bill ~ but because he was IT. I named him after my dad. And then I turned into a rhyming fool:

Good Morning, My Friends

I'm glad to be here. I came down from Heaven to spread Christmas cheer.

My name is Euseb. I arrived this morning. Nico dropped me off while you all were snoring.

St. Nicholas is Santa, as I'm sure you remember, He comes every year on the 6th of December.

His story in a nutshell: He gets dropped off by St. Nick in the wee hours of December 6th and that's when our Advent season begins. He's here to watch them. He has a cute little clipboard as his means of communication. Like the elf, he moves around during the night and in the morning when the kids find him there may or may not be a treat for them.

When you get up each morning, come and look for me, and then look all about you to see what you see. Look up to the ceiling, look down at your feet, for you never know where you might find a treat ~ a project, an outing, or something to eat.

Some day's they'll be something; some day's they'll be none, but that doesn't matter; it's only for fun.

It really has been fun. They get up excited every morning to find him. And not once have I heard disappointment in their voices when he's all alone and bearing no treats.

His time to bid us farewell is fast approaching. Tomorrow will be his last morning here. I'm going to miss him.

My job here is done when the hoofs hit the top. I'll then start heading North. Home will be my last stop.

While my visits seem short from beginning to end, each moment is priceless because you are my friend.

Will I miss you? You betcha! You bet your cute rear. But don't you dare worry. I'll be back next year.

They woke up this morning to find out that they were being treated to a special pajama/movie/game day.

There are certainly things to be worked out and questions to be answered. Is he an elf? An angel? Why does he look so much like Santa Claus? Does Santa Claus come two times a year? (That one weighs on me.) Why can't we touch him? Is he magic? How does he get movies at Blockbuster? WOW!

One night early on when I thought M was sleeping, I walked into her room to set him on her dresser. She didn't say anything until yesterday when she proclaimed that I put him in her room, she saw me. OOOPS! She's said several times that he's not real. I'm not sure if she means the whole concept or the fact that he's ceramic and not flesh and bones. My answer is always the same: You've got to believe.

I believe that I really got it right with him. I wish he was a little more flexible; maybe not so fragile, especially since a second trip to the Dollars Store proved a fruitless effort in procuring a backup Euseb. But you take the good with the bad. He gives me the flexibility to customize, personalize, and incorporate him into whatever is going on in their lives year after year. Because I didn't spend $30 on a book, I can change the rules as I go along and blame it on Euseb. "Because Euseb said." Euseb's pretty much had run of the house these last 17 days. His loyalty is unwavering. He's the perfect accomplice to my madness. Every girl should be so lucky.

All business aside, though, he truly brings a smile to my face; an even bigger one to that of my kids. We're really going to miss Euseb and his wisdom.

So on Christmas morning while you're having fun, take a look all around you and see what God's done.

He sent us his son on this one special day. He sent him to us to show us the way.

So please take a moment, or maybe a few, and shout out to Jesus,

Happy Birthday to You!

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

The Missing Picture

My dad never got to meet his grand kids. While we were growing up, he was the grumpy uncle that was easily annoyed by the antics my cousins, my brother, and I provided. He wasn't a bad man, but his patience was limited when it came to the younger set. I would have thought that he would make no concessions for his own grandchildren.

Enter Ar in the summer of 2004. She came to my mom on "loan" from my Tia Lupe who had been watching her for a few months until the planning of her daughter's wedding took a toll on her time. She handed A to us until the big day. She was one.

We all fell in love with her. The wedding came and went. Ar stayed. She quickly became a part of our family. We looked forward to her arrival each morning.

My dad was a changed man. He played with her. He hugged her. He teased her. He loved her. And when her little brother arrived two years later, he had enough love to give him as well.

In the mornings when Car got there he would run into my dad's room to say good morning. My dad would still be in bed as Car walked to the edge to babble his greeting. On the day that Car went to see my dad lying in his coffin, he uttered the same thing he had for months one last time. In the days that followed, Car and Car alone would see my dad outside the sliding glass door. Car has no memory of any of this, or my dad for that matter. But the memories of the joy he brought my dad will forever be embedded in my mind.

When those kids stepped through the front door, they walked straight into his heart.

On the first anniversary of his death, I spoke about the comfort I felt knowing how much he would have loved his grand kids. I saw it with my own eyes. Without Ar and Car I would never have known. They are angels. I love them so much. Just like my dad did.

There will never exist a picture of my dad with either of his granddaughters, but I have a pretty good idea of what it would look like if there were:

This was waiting for me the other morning when I logged into Facebook.

That's my dad and my goddaughter, Ar. I can't make out the year it was taken ~ looks like '98, but that's when he passed away, and judging by the sandals and sundress Ar is wearing, I would assume it was sometime during summer. He left us on January 13.

I love the look on his face. This could very well be my favorite picture of him. I love it. It's exactly as he looked those last couple of years.

Looking at it made me realize that in the photo album of my kids' lives, there will always be a missing picture. It made my cry for the first time in a while over his death. It made me miss him. At the same time, it made me happy. And it made the realization of that missing picture a little bit easier to bear.

Thank You for sharing, My Ar!