I knew it would be a good day when Ella raced down the hall in her footie pajamas. "Santa's been here!" we shouted, and I pointed to the plate where only cookie crumbs and broken carrot sticks remained. She had a dozen gifts under the tree, many of which were displayed for immediate shock value. She ignored them all and dove, belly-down, under the tree. After a few minutes of rustling and digging, Ella produced a tiny, one-inch box. It was wrapped with more tape than gift wrap. "For you, mommy. I picked it out all by myself." She was glowing with excitement as she presented it to me, centered in her open hand.
I unwrapped a gumball-machine ring with a gold heart and a tiny blue gemstone. She waited until I tried it on, giggling with excitement and relief at how much I loved it. I wore it all weekend and finally retired it to my jewelry box "for safe keeping" once I realized that my finger was turning green. A decade from now, when she's 14 and claims that I'm "so lame," I'll put it on again and remember the day that my gift was more important to her than santa's loot. Wow. The next three days were filled with food, family, and fun: 
Grandma Erma celebrated her 95th Christmas this year, and Carson's very first. A happy holiday indeed!
Carson is almost six months old now...and he runs our household. When he laughs, so do all of us. It's absolutely contagious.
Ella has a new pink coat and a matching, fur-lined purse. She carries the purse with her everywhere she goes, toting at least a pound of pennies from her piggy bank. We decided to do some last-minute Christmas shopping at The Greene, so it was only natural that Ella wanted to drag along the purse. "You'll lose it," I said, and rolled my eyes as we attempted to buckle her into her carseat. She had her doll Ava stuffed into her coat and her pink purse clutched tightly to her chest. She persisted and I gave in.
We got to The Greene: I didn't have change for the parking meter, and neither did Derek. Ella produced three shiny quarters, which bought us the exact amount of time we needed to shop. We shopped and bought and moved in and out of stores, and Ella never lost sight of that purse.
On our way back to the car we saw a beautiful live nativity scene. We took it in for a moment and talked about the true meaning of Christmas. They had a sign up: "Donations are warmly appreciated." I suggested to Ella that I was going to give, and she dug her tiny purse from the bottom of Carson's stroller. Derek lifted her high, and we watched as she dumped the majority of her precious coins into the metal container.
That was my Christmas gift — that no matter how much we have screwed up our youth, our cars, and almost every new year's resolution, there is one area where Derek and I are doing something right. That little something just gave of herself for the benefit of others, who were there to tell an important story on a cold winter's evening. And that, my sweet daughter, is something I want you to read about when you are feeling down on yourself someday. I'll hold this memory forever. 
The story begins with an excited 4 year old. She stands at the end of a long, carpeted hallway in a pair of rubber-soled mary janes. She builds speed toward the drinking fountain, rubber catches carpet, and she goes flying. Her skull hits the corner of a concrete-block wall. The next chapter includes a hysterical grandma, a blood-spattered Aunt Andrea, and a Daddy who scooped everyone up and got us to the ER in minutes. I had time to pack a few blankets and stuffed animals, and off we went.
We learned that the cut was through the skin and muscle. We held out for a plastic surgeon...she's a girly-girl, and it's her face, after all. Dr. Hicks arrived around 11pm, not thrilled to be called in from his slumber. He silently worked on her for almost an hour with Derek close by to hold Ella's hand. (I was pacing the halls and wiping tears.) At the point Derek saw her cranium, he broke into a sweat and asked for a chair. Ella was tearful but more brave than either of us expected. 
The story ends with Dr. Hicks finishing the outer layer of stitches around midnight. Ella's sweetness had completely won him over. As he wiped away the iodine, the ER nurses and I heard a tiny sound. It was Ella, whistling a Christmas carol from under the surgical barrier blanket.
Once per quarter, I leave the boundaries of what's offered in Dayton Ohio (!) to seek out the latest-and-greatest trends and color forecasts. The Art Directors go, and we shop and scout and have meetings to determine what's the right direction for our product lines. While our destination is usually New York, this time we opted for Los Angeles.It was one thing for me to travel on business when we had Ella...and quite another with a second baby. I packed 6 different bags. I made calendars for Derek's mom and my mom since they would be helping, and typed up a schedule to help them decipher Carson's coos and howls. I bought gel packs, ice, a nursing shawl, small coolers, aluminum foil, bubble wrap and fedex supplies to ship Carson's frozen milk back to him from the sunny west coast before it melted. Let me tell you, it's hard to be a good mom from thousands of miles away.After all that preparation (and once I had made it through security with what certainly looked like the makings of a meth lab in my suitcase) I finally took my seat on the plane headed west. The agenda was packed and the days were long, but the payoff was huge. Mollee, Renee and I left with a very good idea of what our 2010/2011 lines could offer.
But if I'm being honest, I think the biggest payoff of my first time away is this: I got to step away for awhile and be the girl in the big city. I got to be creatively inspired and surrounded by beauty. I got to stretch out on a big fluffy bed in a beautiful hotel, and wake up with a great cup of coffee on the penthouse sundeck.Then I got to come home to a family who tripped over each other with stories to share, who snuggled close to tell me they love me, who mentioned again and again how much I was missed. I am thankful that we have such wonderful mothers who made my departure easier on Derek...and I am grateful for a short respite from spit-up and diapers, to remind me of how good and sweet this time is after all. Sometimes the beauty of what we have is more clearly revealed upon stepping away from it for a moment. What a view.
