The Ghosts of Christmas Past

These cards are the final echoes of Christmas 2010. Every year the cards linger long after other trappings of the holidays have retreated into the shadows of closets, toy boxes, and attic corners. They shuffle back and forth between table, counter, desk, holding a silent vigil for the Christmas spirit. I find myself in a sort of emotional stand-off between my inner selves: I long to free my counter space of holiday flotsam; yet, I am consumed with guilt for my lack of sentimentality. I resolve to make a scrapbook, a collage, a placemat - anything to stave off that dark desire to trash the whole business. Five years I have resolved, only to succumb on some gloomy day in February when my winter purging instincts overwhelm me. Surely, this year will be different.
And so they sit. . . for now . . . ask me again on March first.

Hurry Up And Wait

My resolution to blog every day held for exactly two days. Inspiring. In any event, I'm jumping back on the wagon as I sit here in yet another waiting room and fill out yet another set of paperwork. Much of what we do in the Circus involves hurry up and wait. "Your child is in crisis - you need to intervene NOW. Oh, and by the way, the waiting list is three months long." "You must put your child on a 15-year waiting list for adult transitional care, and you have only 14 days left to reply before you lose your spot." "We have to decide today what modifications your child will need on a test he will take two and a half years from now."
And so we rush, and then we wait. Today, I'm waiting while my littlest man builds and talks and taps away, all under the appraising eye of yet another professional. When we leave today, we'll wait another 3 to 5 weeks for results, then rush off to the next wait. And it will be worth every minute . . . right?