I guess it's the time of year for big thoughts. At our house we light candles for Hanukkah, then again for Solstice, then again and again each day of Yule as we find ourselves craving the ritual. Nathan always passes the candle to each of us to put some good mojo or wishes into it. Needless to say my mind has been turned toward wishes and mojo for a couple weeks now. It's been turned toward big thoughts.
Two things have happened to aid my big thoughts.
1. I thought I turned thirty-seven in June and was trundling along under that impression for the last six months when Echo tuned in and reminded me that I am actually thirty-six. A year younger. With this new information I feel like I got a freebie, a whole additional year added to my life.
2. Nathan gave me a rainbow stacker for Yule. A rainbow stacker is (supposedly) a children's toy, several pieces of wood shaped and smoothed and painted rainbow colors. When stacked it makes an arcing rainbow, when taken apart and re-stacked it makes a lot of fun and different shapes.
A little backstory: I've wanted a rainbow stacker for five plus years! When I gave birth to Echo I felt my hands firmly on the steering wheel of our little family. Though I had held the mama role, in our house anyway, to Bella and Xi, I still was the "newest" member to the family. The girls came with outfits from their other houses and Nathan had sheets and toys and clothes and other aesthetic objects already in place. But now that I was giving birth to Echo, I was suddenly in charge of this little human and her aesthetic world, her onesies and blankies and toys.
So I wanted the rainbow stacker.
The rainbow stacker lives at our local awesome toy store called Walking Stick Toys and although we go there often and pass by the window on our way downtown, somehow the rainbow stacker just didn't make it onto the practical purchasing list.
Now I don't mean to get too over-involved in this but I suppose, now that I think about it more, the stacker represented not just what I wanted for the new baby in terms of toys, but for what I wanted in general for our family. I wanted to be the type of family that had wooden quality toys- and all that I associate with that. Peaceful parenting, a safe home, happy children.
The funny thing is... we have that, even without that particular toy.
Yet when I see that stacker on our wooden floor I can't help but think: Now I have everything I always wanted. The tendency, for me anyway, is to take that thought and quickly calculate that if I just have the material objects I want then my life will be complete. But I remember what the stacker stood for and that we created that for ourselves, the effect of the rainbow stacker, without actually owning it.
Is my description a tangled web? I meant it to be simple. How's this:
- The time of the year and the candles and the wishes have helped me isolate what my vision is for myself and my family.
- The fact that I am a year younger than I thought means I have the feeling of extra time, that I have all the time I need to get where I am going.
- The rainbow stacker is a physical reminder that I have everything I need or want, that I have always had it. And even if I can't see it right now, it is all coming.
The even shorter story is that all this results in a good feeling.
Nathan is driving Bella to her other house, our time with her always too short. I've put Owl City on Pandora to distract the middle daughter from being too annoyed by the little sister. Snow is falling. The cat's on Echo's lap. Homework awaits Xi. A gingerbread house kit, having fallen through the cracks of the holiday bustle, waits for Papa to return.
Really, it's all rainbow stacker.