Mom Mom Mom #40: All I want for Christmas is a Miracle

Yes, our Christmas tree is pink.

Yes, it’s been a long time, but here’s a new one. Let me know if you think it’s too, well, not happy enough.  It’s scheduled to run in the December 24 edition of the Alameda Sun.

All I want for Christmas is a Miracle

I so wanted this to be a Holiday Miracle story. I keep reading them, in magazines and the newspaper, on the Internet. They are everywhere. I religiously watch the same movies every year on TV. (I even watch the silly, corny ones; I just can’t help myself.) These stories are truly amazing, whether they are based on actual events or fabricated. At the last minute, on Christmas Eve, something magical happens—“It’s a Christmas Miracle!”—and you can fill in the ending on your own:  He made it home. They kissed. The present arrived under the tree when there was no money to pay for it. She survived. They lived happily ever after.

I wish I had my own Christmas Miracle story to tell you now, to affect you and change your life. But I come up empty.

The second biggest Christmas Miracle story of them all (after that first One, which seems to get lost in the mayhem somehow) is Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Countless renditions of the Scrooge story have been revised and rewritten based on the original cranky old man who gets a new lease on life. The story transcends religious affiliation; anyone can change if they see enough Ghosts of the Past or the gloomy, hooded Future. This story gives me hope for my own redemption, because every year, no matter how much I try to change my attitude or how many shows I watch, I pray for the whole season to pass quickly into January.

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe in Christmas and the possibility of its Miracles. I also believe in Heaven, ghosts and fairies. I am the first to clap when I see Peter Pan and they ask for the audience to believe, to clap to keep Tinkerbell alive. And, absolutely, that was your late grandmother who knocked over her photograph to let you know she was in the room. Heaven is whatever you want it to be.

It’s not really my fault, this obsession with Holiday Miracles. The intrinsic need for miracles at this time of the year begins at an early age. It’s not only the miracle birth of a baby in Bethlehem, if you are a Christian, or the miracle of the container of oil, if you’re Jewish, or the miracle of Santa Claus for just about everyone else. (“How does he get around the world to every single house in just one night, Mommy?”) I learned these stories from my parents and I have gladly, happily even, handed them down to my children. It’s easier to create Holiday Miracles when you are dealing with little ones. If he sees you when you’re sleeping, he can make anything happen, right? It was as traumatic for me as it was for my girls when they finally figured out that Santa was just Mom and now we can negotiate about the presents each year. What happens to the magic of Christmas when the children have all grown up?

I guess I’ll continue reading the stories and watching the movies time and again with that tiny seed of hope for my very special Holiday Miracle. In the end, I’m not completely certain that it’s really one big miracle. It’s a specific series of events that create a miracle, just as a specific series of events create a life, which truly is the ultimate miracle. And, in this life, sometimes you just have to let go and go about your business. That Miracle just might happen. And, maybe that’s what the spirit of the season is all about.

May we all experience a miracle to call our own this season. xo

Mom Mom Mom #38: Home Again

A day at the beach in New Jersey.

This column runs in the August 27 edition of the Alameda Sun. Comments are always welcome, here or on Twitter!

You can Go Home Again

We made our annual trek to the east coast again this summer, the girls and I. Although it was our third summer vacation east of the Mississippi in a row, this time it was different. This time we spent either every day or part of every day with family. Depending on your perspective (and your relationship with your own family), that kind of trip could be a heavenly experience or a harrowing one. For me, it was a little bit of both.

Usually on these vacations, we spend most of the time with friends and let the family see us coming and going, literally. The real difference this year was that my brothers and sisters and I found our way back home together with our father at the same time. It’s a rare occurrence—the last time we were all together was at my mother’s funeral 11 years ago. A lot has happened since then and I didn’t want my girls or me to miss this opportunity.

We covered a lot of ground during our trip. We caravanned up to Vermont to see my younger sister and got a quick taste of her family’s country living in a beautiful, pastoral setting. With her infinite hospitality, she managed to entertain 18 people throughout a very rainy day. Then we headed back to New Jersey, spending a good chunk of the remaining time driving from the New York to the Pennsylvania borders and down to the shore. In fact, one day, six of us packed into my Dad’s Buick to drive 200 miles, never leaving the fourth-smallest state in the union, to meet my father’s first great-grandchild (a girl, of course!) and then to see more cousins.

It’s amazing the dynamics that happen when you reunite with your family. I guess I should limit that statement to just one person—what happens to me. I return every year thinking that I have changed so much, seen so much, been through so much and I think people, both old friends and family, will see that, notice that I’ve changed and grown up into this fabulous person. What I noticed was that as soon as I land, I turn into an awkward teenage girl all over again, all the benefits of my age and wisdom quickly dropping to the wayside. It took a few days for me to realize this and I had to really shift my awareness. I am not a teenager anymore. This time, when I left the east coast, I left feeling like a grown up.

I wonder if it’s true for families that don’t separate. If I saw my brothers and sisters every day here in Alameda, would I still turn into the awkward teenage girl that I become now when I see them all? Or, if I hadn’t left New Jersey, would I be the same person I am today?

I don’t believe that people really change that much. Things happen to you—college, marriage, the deaths of loved ones, the birth of children, divorce, illness, careers—but what changes inherently? I often wonder if it’s all of your successes and failures that determine who you are or if it’s who you are that determines your outcome. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

Thinking back over the journey, I can’t help but think, “Wherever you go, there you are.” The good news is that this time, I have realized what triggers the emergence of that awkward teenage girl and am learning to be the Mary Lee she has grown into. It’s a lesson I want to somehow teach my girls. That you are just you, a combination of all ages of you, and maybe it’s not all that bad.

Junie B. Jones and Mary F. Pols: Two Literary Events

Can you believe it’s been since May that I’ve posted? Does anyone really care? For some strange reason, on July 3, 60 people checked out this blog. That’s 6-0, folks, the highest number ever!

What’s next for this part-time blogger, full-time worker? According to Notes from the Universe, all I have to do is “think great thoughts.”

In the meantime, I am plying my multi-faceted trade. Here are a few of the Books, Inc. Alameda events I’ve been to lately.

First, was the irrepressible Junie B. Jones. (The actors were delightful!) This piece, with photos, ran in the June 27, 2008 issue of the Alameda Sun:

The Wild and Stupid Smelly Bus Tour of Junie B. Jones

by Mary Lee Shalvoy

“Junie B. Jones” talked non-stop, grabbed a variety of treasures from her “Big Pink Trunk of Junk” for a wacky show-and-tell (the cymbals were a nice, noisy touch) and generally ran amok around Books Inc. last Tuesday night.

June is Junie B. Jones month, of course, and the character honored the Park Street shop with a stop on her whirlwind “Stupid Smelly Bus Tour.” It’s a 25-city, cross-country excursion that promotes the silly 6-year-old star of the best-selling “Junie B. Jones” series of books written by Barbara Park and published by Random House. The series, launched in 1992, offers 27 books and an interactive journal, and has sold 44 million copies around the world.

For the crazy road trip, the vivacious Junie B. Jones character has a traveling companion in Mr. Woo, the driver of her bright pink school bus. While Junie B. entertained the audience (the 5- to 7-year-old set and their clearly bemused parents), Mr. Woo offered some adult supervision, although not quite enough to avoid the cymbal clanging. At one point in the 20 minutes of hilarity, either before or after the quick change into a bunny suit and the introduction of her stuffed elephant, Philip Johnny Bob, Junie B. proudly extracted the floaty ball from her toilet tank, proclaiming it her favorite plumbing supply.

Junie B. engaged the audience members with questions, but often they offered their own comments and squeals throughout the event, providing a bit of spontaneity. After show and tell, Junie B. stamped books for all the kids in the audience.

It’s an exciting trip for Caitlin Thurnauer, who plays Junie B. Jones, and Jay Paranada, the often-befuddled Mr. Woo, who clearly relish and take their roles seriously. The best part of the gig for them is seeing the reaction of the thousands of children they meet on the road at bookstores, shopping centers, libraries and military centers. The two invite questions and interaction from their fans. The craziest question Junie B. and Mr. Woo have been asked on this tour? “Do you like pigs?”

In addition to the fun and games, the Junie B. Jones tour is also helping kids in need. During the month of June, Books Inc. has partnered with Random House, and for every two books in the Junie B. Jones series sold, one book is being donated to an organization called First Book. First Book is a nonprofit organization devoted to giving children from low-income families the opportunity to read and own their first new books.

Here are the photos.

Before Junie B., there was the Mary F. launch party for her book Accidentally on Purpose. It ran in the July 10 issue of the Alameda Sun.

Mary F. Pols and Her Journey to Accidental Happiness

by Mary Lee Shalvoy

Mary F. Pols launched her first book, a memoir, at Books Inc. in Alameda.

Book Review

You might want to hate Mary Pols, Alameda mom and author of the memoir Accidentally on Purpose: A One-Night Stand, My Unplanned Parenthood, and Loving the Best Mistake I Ever Made (HarperCollins, 2008), like I did.

From my perspective, the gods of the Writers’ Universe have been very good to Pols.

She’s a local (she even lives in my neighborhood) who got a book deal with a reputable publishing house, after both a successful career as a film critic for the Contra Costa Times and a writing fellowship at Stanford. (Please kill me now.)

Pols even managed to find a topic that no one else, except for the inimitable Anne Lamott with her book Operating Instructions, had yet to tackle in non-fiction — choosing single motherhood by keeping her baby from an unplanned pregnancy.

Then I met Mary Pols and read her book, and though I am still a bit jealous, I can’t really hate her. For in Accidentally on Purpose, Pols’ book takes the reader on a journey from the day that leads to a one-night stand, through the discovery of her pregnancy, the birth of her precious son, and some additional life-altering events without a hint of hubris.

In fact, she writes about her life, like the one night of the aforementioned stand, her failed attempts at love, her struggles in the relationship with her baby son’s father, and her parents’ aging, in such detail and with such candor and intimacy that you have a tendency, as one reviewer said, to “wince.”

More than once, I closed my copy of the book with that feeling that I was peeking into someone’s diary.

But these are the elements that make for excellent writing and a darn good memoir.

“I don’t think a memoir is really worth doing if you’re not going to be completely honest,” said Pols.

Especially uncomfortable for me was reading about her relationship with the baby’s father.

Pols had difficulty with the situation, too, but a year out from finishing the book she is “just grateful for how good and kind he is and how much he loves his son.”

In the book, while Pols describes her life’s events, she also comes to a few important epiphanies about working through whatever happens in your life and letting go of long-harbored expectations.

“It’s about finding happiness in an unexpected place,” explained Pols and, in addition to the book deal, the beautiful boy and an excellent father for him, “I found peace.”

We all could be a little jealous of Pols, but maybe a little grateful, too.

She has shown us how to take the lemons of life that grow from the bad decisions that we make, and turn them into sweet lemonade.

Mary Lee Shalvoy is an Alameda writer.