For a Happy New Year Chilean* style…

… do the following at midnight:

• wear yellow underwear—you will find love in the new year (in other countries you wear different colors (i.e. red) and inside out and/or backwards—which can’t be comfortable.)

• carry a suitcase around the block—you will travel (here you will look like a fruitcake, but no matter--no public embarrassment--no exotic travel destinations [lady luck is strict that way])

• eat lentils—for good luck

• eat 12 grapes—for good luck
  
  
• do something or other with money—for economic prosperity. (I can’t remember what to do with it—you don’t eat it, this I know… you put it in your shoe or under your bed or something—I’ll let you choose.)

Whatever you eat, whatever you wear, may you have a lovely 2009 full of good love, good luck, and good fortune (travel is optional).



*Disclaimer: Most of these traditions do not originate in Chile, and similar versions are practiced in other Spanish-speaking countries.

Realization

In a recent conversation with my husband, he (jokingly) implied that he had been duped into thinking it would only take me 5 years to complete my Ph.D. (MA included) and then we could talk about going back to Chile. Here we are, 7.5 years later.

Believe me when I say that I feel the pressure. I want to finish and get on with "life"--whatever that means. It sucks to be a perpetual student. I have so often, especially now with kids, thought about just dropping it and remaining ABD forever (that's not so bad right? What is so great about a dissertation?) But I am so close, that it would be a travesty of colossal proportions (ok maybe not colossal) to quit.

My own internal pressure is compounded by the constant (ok, maybe not constant, but it feels that way sometimes) questions: When are you going to finish? How long do you have left? When are you going to finish? When are you going to finish? When are you going to finish? ....... ad nauseam.

Oh, and please don't tell me that your neighbor's son or your friend's husband completed a Ph.D. in under three years. If his Ph.D. does not require a minimum of 3 years of coursework and then an 8-hour written comprehensive exam with a 2-hour oral follow-up before even being considered for candidacy which then allows you the pleasure of beginning the dissertation, don't even talk to me about it.

It is not like it has been an easy road. I was sick for a year. I had two pregnancies, two c-sections, two newborns, and now two little kiddos that require constant attention. I also have a husband and a house. I do NOT have money for a nanny, a housekeeper, or a personal chef.

In the midst of this conversation with hubby, I realized exactly what I need to finish my Ph.D.: I need a wife.

.

It reminded me of an essay that I read in college (UG) written in 1971 by Judith Sayers. You can read it here.

On a much much much sweeter, nicer, juicier note, baby boy turned 10 months this weekend.

Lazy Holidays

You may think that I have been neglecting my blog because I have been busy entertaining visiting family members or cooking a gourmet seven-course meal.

But, no. I am just plain lazy. I have hardly touched the computer. Plus I caught a nasty cold (or I have allergies--or both) so it took all I had to even get out of my jammies today.

I have been so lazy about Christmas this year, we didn't send Christmas cards or even a Christmas email--nothing. If I didn't feel like such a slug, I might even feel ashamed about it. But it never helps to beat yourself up, right?

Besides, we are pretty much holiday orphans--hubby's family lives in Chile. My family is crazy and I refuse to ruin one more holiday with them. So we are pretty much home alone... but nothing like the movie. (I don't know why I said that. Note to self: please control stupid references to lame kids' movies.)

We did talk to my husband's family on Christmas Eve though, as they prepared for the festivities. In Chile they have the big family dinner on Christmas Eve, usually around 10:00 pm. And Santa (el Viejito Pascuero) comes at midnight. I guess it makes sense--it is another part of the world; Santa obviously visits different countries at different times. But all the kids stay up waiting for him. That's craziness!

As a youngin' when my husband and I were dating in Chile, that was fine. However, as a mother, I honestly can't even imagine that horror of watching that "meltdown til midnight." I really like MY version of Santa who only comes if you are sleeping and leaves presents for you to open in the morning.

I kind of dread the first time we spend Christmas there with the kids--for that reason alone.

On a somewhat random note: I went to my first Catholic Mass the first Christmas I spent with hubby and fam. Mass on Christmas Eve there is called "Misa del Gallo" (Rooster Mass). We call it Midnight Mass in English--I think Rooster Mass sounds much more fun. For those of you who don't know: Mass is a lot of standing up and sitting down, crossing yourself (genuflecting?) and then at the end you hug your neighbors and say something about "Peace."

That's it... that's all I got...

...oh and Tropic Thunder is the stupidest movie of all time. I think it was meant to be clever and controversial. But I know clever and controversial, and that is not it.

ok, that is definitely all

Sweet Anticipation

This year we are poor. Which is kind of sad around Christmas--because it means you have to have the "we can't spend a lot of money so don't get me anything" talk.

We got small gifts for the kids, though--luckily they are young enough that they don't have any demands and will be thrilled with any new toy.

Of course, it almost goes without saying, that I got my husband a little gift anyway, but he doesn't know.

So last night, cleaning up in the kitchen and talking about Christmas, my husband turns to me and says: "You know I haven't done any shopping, right? You know, so you aren't disappointed on Christmas."

Me: "Well, when you say it like THAT it sounds kind of sucky. Now I will be disappointed. In fact, I am going to start feeling disappointed right now. You know how I like to get a head start on things."


Really? Nothing? not even my favorite coffee creamer? not even a creative coupon book? a love letter?


Maybe someone can send him a memo, for future reference, that "don't get me anything" NEVER REALLY means "get me (absolutely-freaking) NOTHING." There must be a slight semantic difference there, right?

Holiday spirit

I'm just going to come out and say it... I detest crowds, I abhor standing in line unless absolutely necessary, and I hate shopping during the holidays... because it inevitably involves lots of crowds and endless standing in line.

(It should go without saying, then, that I never even dream of getting in on the discount action on Black Friday or the day after Christmas--waking up--or not even going to sleep at all--to stand in line for hours in order to trample the poor doorman and scratch and scramble to get the last Play Station--I'd rather break my own knee-caps, thankyouverykindly.)

Needless to say, you may have guessed that I have never taken my daughter to the mall to get her picture with Santa. Actually, the mere idea of taking her to the mall, standing in line, paying some exorbitant fee, and then trying to coax her onto Santa's lap sounds like one of my numerous definitions of Hell.

Yet, tonight, there we were... not at the mall, but a nearby shopping center. I had to buy some things at Target and I had promised her we could go see the light show at the plaza-playground-amphitheater of sorts.

And there he was, SANTA!

G: "I wanna see Santa!"

Me: "OK" (What the hell... let's do it for posterity's sake... and no line--bonus!)

So we approached the set and got ready to pay for the $8 photo. I overheard the woman in front of me asking what payments they accepted. Cash or check. Naturally, I hardly ever carry cash, because you hardly ever need it anymore. And when in the name of all that is holy was the last time anyone carried around a checkbook, for crying out loud! So I turned sadly to G and said: "I am sorry G, we'll have to catch Santa later, we can't see him today."

(now, obviously I am thinking to myself: "well, that sucks, the first and only time she is ever going to see Santa and he doesn't accept debit. I guess I'll have to add THAT to my wish list--"Dear Santa, I know you are old and all, but this is the 21st century and cash is so 1900's, so could you invest in the technology of plastic cards?")

Then, the sweetest thing happened. A woman, who had overheard me talking to G as she picked up her picture and saw the look of desperation in G's face as she longed for her turn on Santa's lap, touched my arm and slipped a $10 bill into my hand and said "Merry Christmas."

Of course, I ran to the nearest coffee shop and grabbed myself a latte--Santa-Schmanta!


RELAX!! Not really. What kind of mother would I be if I denied G this once in a lifetime experience, this rite of passage?

So we got her a picture with Santa and we didn't even have to stand in line. HA! (I know that will make some of you envious.)


So here, as proof, that even at the most hectic time of year, in the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression, kindness and generosity and the Christmas spirit are still to be found in the simplest of good deeds, I offer you, the only picture (probably) the world will ever see of G and Mr. Claus.

Now that G knows she has visitation rights with Santa, what are the chances that I will get out of the Santa visit next year?

P.S. Can you tell she is scared stiff? The best part is that she still has no idea she can actually ASK for things. We ran into our neighbor with a daughter the same age (3) who saw Santa and asked for an IPod. I am so glad G is simple that way: doesn't ask for anything--happy with anything she gets--how long will that last?