mama's family

With the close of our manic, shove-it-all-in-like-you-need-a-good-tax-return December, a bit of a depression has set in at our house. The tree is still up because apparently January 6th is THE day to tear it down, according to Nathan, and anyway, we need to get our full $8 worth. Eight dollars is, after all, the going rate for a tree bought on December 23rd. In January's grey light, wreaths still adorning doors seem to hang a little pathetically lopsided and you begin to feel shame on behalf of the neighbors who haven't gotten around to putting away their giant, hand painted Santa-replete-with-sleigh-and-reindeer display. Your Hanukkah shoes are already muddy, everyone's finished commenting on your new coat and the baby has long since tired of actually playing with the ring stacker he KISSED on Christmas morning in favor of throwing the pieces as far as he can. In an attempt to dent the wood floors? If so, he's succeeded (if you're my landlord, I'm totally kidding [if you're not my landlord, I'm totally not kidding]).

This one fell swoop of a holiday month has me thinking about family. The family I miss. The family George hasn't yet met. And specifically, because they're -- honestly -- the nearest to my heart, our chosen family. George's two sweet cousins, his auntie Chuck, the godmamas who whirlwinded through his birthday party weekend, his tia Yolanda who finally made her way back North and all the others, the whole world over, that I miss all the time but most of all when escapes could be made from messy houses and the sad, lopsided wreaths that decorate their doors. 

Even at my brokest, I've made time and found the money to travel. Even when travel was only up and down the same coast a hundred times, bottom to top or top to bottom depending on my permanent address. Since having George, that's changed. A sense of obligation has led me where I didn't most want to go, at the expense of the places and people I love (and, of course, at the literal expense of Nathan's parents because you know we don't have the money to fly three people to and from Oklahoma, like whoa). But I think I am feeling a renewed itch for that trek down the 5, for a Paul burrito, the Winter sun, some decent thrifting and streets that don't lose me no matter where I'm headed. And Disneyland. Oh, kid, I don't care if you're only one. We need some cherry sours and a stupid hat with ears. Mama needs to explain to you the order in which you obtain Fast Passes to maximize your riding time and minimize the time spent waiting in line.

And there are so, so many people to hug on the way.