The Shitrock

Inspired by Depressionista's blogs, I decided to formally define what we mean by the term, "shitrock." As expressive as the English language is, it often fails to have words to describe certain things. For example, there is this quote from the show Six Feet Under:

"If you lose a spouse, you're called a widow, or a widower. If you're a child and you lose your parents, then you're an orphan. But what's the word to describe a parent who loses a child? I guess that's just too f***ing awful to even have a name."

Put another way, there are no words to describe the heartache and emptiness of losing a child.

I sometimes describe the feeling of losing my son as something that would be the opposite of a "miracle." It's beyond tragedy, beyond devastation, beyond grief. There is no word that really means the opposite of a miracle.

Basically, the "shitrock" is my made-up term for the opposite of something lucky, like a four-leaf clover or a lucky rabbit's foot. When things are going right, and we're feeling superstitious, we have our "lucky" things, like our lucky socks, or my "lucky panties." When things are going right, we say, "Wow, you've got luck on your side!" or "You must be my good luck charm!"

But what if things are going not-so-good, or truly, horribly, bad? We can say we're cursed. Or we've got bad karma. But what's the opposite of a "good luck charm?" That's where I came up with the term, "shitrock."

Some of us have the shitrock when we're playing cards, some of us have it when we have a bad day, and some of us seem to have this perpetual shitrock in our pockets for our entire lives. Basically, it's the anti-lucky charm.

Question

Why is it that I have to be sensitive about saying anything about my dead son around pregnant women (or anyone), but it's OK for pregnant women to discuss every detail of their pregnancies, and rub their bellies, while others gush on and on about how great pregnancy is? Why do I have to be so sensitive when few people are sensitive to how I might feel about it?

It continues to pain me that people forget that I had a son, that I was pregnant once, too and that I am a childless mother.

The Christmas Story House

I just had to share some photos of our fun trip to The Christmas Story house, which we visited during the Christmas season with my friend Gumby, as she was in town visiting.

The house is just about 15 minutes from my house, and any fan of the movie has to go on a pilgrimage there!

Enjoy the pictures, and find out more here:

• A Christmas Story House Official Website
  
  
  

It's a Wonderful Life!

It's Christmas Eve at my house. Every year, I have one tradition that I have to do - watch "It's a Wonderful Life." I know it sounds completely cheesey, but in times when I was feeling particularly depressed, I always felt a kinship with George, and a feeling that maybe in some small way, I do make a difference in the world. That's a good feeling to have on Christmas.

I loved laying on the couch in my pajamas, wrapped in a blanket, with the only lights coming from the TV and the colored lights on the tree. Like tonight, I rarely get to see the whole thing from start to finish. Mostly, I watch it on TV these days because the copy I have is on VHS, and hooking up the VCR takes someone with an engineering degree.

I love every inch of Bedford Falls in that movie, and feel it has even more meaning to me because I grew up in a town called Bedford. In fact, their downtown is decorated like Bedford Falls in the movie every year.

I always wanted to marry someone like George, someone kind, someone with integrity, someone with dreams. And the old house he and Mary live in is my dream house. There's so much humor in the movie, too. I love that people had the same sense of humor then as we do now. It's always hard to imagine people back in that time (like my grandparents), doing such crazy things, dating, pulling pranks, etc. But I guess they were young once, too.

I know it's sappy, but this movie always gives me hope for Christmas and the days to come. And it only has this power for me on Christmas Eve.

Santa Claus is Coming Tonight!

I'm stealing this subject from my brother.

This week, I received an e-mail from an acquaintance who was thrilled that her local mall had an African-American Santa and an Asian-American Santa. This is a phenomenon I don't understand. And this is why: Santa Claus is based on a REAL person. And he was a European guy!

I'm sorry if someone is offended about Santa being white. But he was white in real life! He's a historical figure. What if someone said, "I'm offended that Martin Luther King Jr. is always portrayed as an African-American. Can't we have some images of a Hispanic MLK Jr.?"

Can we just alter history to make people feel better? There sure are a lot of images of Mother Theresa floating around. How ridiculous would it be if someone said, "I think we need more pictures of an Asian Mother Theresa?" This could be for any historical figure - from George Washington to Princess Diana.

The American version of St. Nicholas, or Santa Claus originally came from the Dutch version called Sint Klaas. The Dutch settlers in New Amsterdam (New York) brought this tradition to America in the 17th Century.

Santa Claus incorporates many traditions: Christian and Pagan, Old Catholic, Scandinavian, Dutch, German and English (re: ALL European).

St. Nicholas was originally Bishop Nicholas of Smyrna (Izmir), in what is now Turkey, during the 4th century A.D. He was very rich, generous, and loving toward children. Often he gave joy to poor children by throwing gifts in through their windows. The Orthodox Church later raised St. Nicholas, miracle worker, to a position of great esteem. St. Nicholas became the patron saint of children and seafarers.

So call him what you like, St. Nicholas, Santa Claus, whatever. But remember that, historically, he was a European dude.

It's my birthday...

Here's the thing: I have a "love/hate" relationship with my birthday. Having a birthday so close to Christmas, people mostly just forget about it, which doesn't really bother me that much anymore - in fact, I often forget about it until it's close to the day! And it's never really bothered me to share my age - I've always worn it like a badge of honor.

But then the biological clock gets in the way. It's ticking, and my body isn't tocking.

After nearly 8 years of trying, one stillbirth and one miscarriage, I am still childless. So, my birthdays have become the annual festival of my infertility. And yes, I'm a little sensitive about it. Everytime someone says, "Oh, you're so young!" or "I didn't realize you were that old," it's a jab to the place in my heart that houses my dreams of becoming a parent. The same goes to any comments about my gray hairs, which are multiplying so quickly, I can no longer yank them out at first sight. And I realize I do this to myself, I really do, but it's hard. It's like watching everyone you know open their presents, and you don't get one.

But this year was different. I felt overwhelming optimism on my birthday. I don't know what changed - maybe I was more accepting, or more forgiving of myself, but I had a GOOD birthday!

My family took my out to dinner and I got thoughtful gifts. I got phone calls from friends and family. And my husband got me a beautiful necklace (photo at right) and actually wrote something nice in the card (usually he just signs his name). He wrote:

"I love you and I know the next year will be our best yet."

I cried when I read it - not just because he actually wrote something nice, but also because it was what I was feeling, too. Maybe, just maybe, this will be our year.

The Annual Christmas Letter

When I was younger, my mom got this Christmas letter from an old friend. We don't remember what it said exactly, but it was basically an update of the family, sharing what has happened in their lives in the past year. Things like, "Hubby moved out, I'm sick with terminal illness, oldest daughter just had 2nd child out of wedlock (and she's only 18), son has been mutilating animals in the backyard, and we hope our youngest son will be out of jail in time for next Christmas."

I get some great Christmas letters, from the unbelievable (like the one above), to the completely sickening sweet ("Our new white picket fence is the finishing touch on our perfect lives!") My theory is that those super-sweet ones are usually some sort of cover-up for a crappy life, "If we can convince everyone else that our lives our perfect, than maybe we'll start believing it ourselves!"

I used to send Christmas letters, basically a brief update about where we had traveled, what were were doing for work, what pets we had now, etc. I stopped doing that the year I lost my son, 1 1/2 months before Christmas. I wrote to some people in their cards, "We experienced the joy of pregnancy this year. Unfortunately, we lost our son when he was born premature and didn't survive." But those messages just went to a select few. I inserted a Christmas photo of my husband and I hiking in Arizona. I remember looking at that picture, taken just weeks before I got pregnant, and thinking how different I looked, how much innocence there was in my eyes. Every picture of myself since then looks different to me. There is often happiness, but in my eyes, there is the different look of having lost a part of myself. Since then, it feels like nearly every Christmas letter is announcing the birth of another baby.

It seems the purpose of the Annual Christmas Letter is to make sure everyone knows how great and exciting your life is. This is done by the use of many, many exclamation points, as well as filling the letter with cliches, like, "He's groing like a weed!" or "Where does the time go?" Everyone is sure to end their letter with, "We wish you a blessed Christmas and all the best of the season!"

It never ceases to amaze me that college graduates are unable to form a coherent sentence. The Annual Christmas Letters are full of incomplete thoughts, misspellings, and overall atrocious grammar. Since most of these are done on computers, you have to wonder, don't these people have spell check???

Here is my Christmas letter for this year:
"Greetings! This year, we celebrated our 10th year of marriage. Tingle was in China on that day, which could be considered symbollic of the empty distance in the marriage. For those of you who are counting, we are going into our 8th year of infertility.

China was a great adventure for Tingle, aside from having to give a local the beatdown when he stole her camera. Oh, and the horrible 24-hour diarrhea and fever she had in Hong Kong.

Tingle continues to suffer from grief and depression, even if she is pretty much the only one who still thinks about her son on a daily basis. In November, it was 3 years since the loss of their son. She tries not to talk about it too much, so as not to "upset" anyone. She continues to hide her grief with Zoloft, inappropriate outbursts of anger, spending money, sleeping, and eating junk food.

While S was given a promotion this year, he has been working 12-hour shifts since Thanksgiving. It's great to be on salary! He continues to enjoy video games and sitting around the house in his underwear.

Our cats are still with us and continue to puke on every surface of our home. We've had to start shutting them out of our bedroom after coming home to find a giant puke ball in the middle of our bed. It seems their puking gets worse and worse every year. We have decided to put off purchasing any new carpet until they kick off. We always know the holidays are near when we find little pine needles in the vomit piles.

Work for Tingle has been a lot of "work" (hahaha). Aside from a lot of travel, there was much anxiety as layoffs were announced at the end of the year. Tingle gets to stay in her job, but no raises again this year. A wonderful Christmas surprise (hahaha).

That's about all from us this year, wishing you all a wonderful holiday season!"

Of course, many GOOD things happened this year, but it wouldn't be as funny to rehash those. Besides, it would sound like I was bragging! Speaking of bragging, you will enjoy this great article from salon.com: Season of Bragging by Garrison Keillor

A classic Christmas letter has also been posted by my friend, Depressionista, on her blog: Trump says...

Finally, I share this humdinger of a Christmas letter that we received from an uncle...

Itchy JINGLE!

Itchy Jingle Bells to all! hehehe! This post is all about Christmas music.

Christmas Songs I Hate:

• The "Christmas Shoes" song - yes, this is in the top spot for a reason. This is a manipulative, sappy, completely cheesey and fake song. Can't Mama just wear her white-trash flip-flops to see Jesus? They were good enough for cousin Merline's wedding. Besides, does Jesus really care what we're wearing? And, why the hell is this little kid out by himself on Christmas Eve while his mom is home dying??
  
• "Christmas Don't Be Late" (The Chipmunks) - I really don't think I have to explain this one...
  
• "Do They Know It's Christmas" (Band Aid) - Uh, hello, no they probably DON'T know it's Christmas, considering only 32% of the world is Christian! The remaining 68% are something else. Here's how it plays out, approximately: 32% Christian, 20% Muslim, 15% Nonreligious, 13% Hindu, 6% indigenous, 6% Chinese traditional, 6% Buddhist, 1/3% Sikh, 1/4% Jewish, and the remaining less than 1/2% is "other." Everytime I hear this song, I think, "Why the hell would "they" care it's Christmas? And it's such a "US saving the World" song, as if we have all the answers and don't have any problems here? Hey, do "they" know it's Christmas in the US? How about we just be kind and open-hearted to each other, no matter what holiday it is?
  
• "Santa Claus is Comin' to Town" (Bruce Springsteen) - it's not so much the song, but this version of the song, which was cute the first 5 years it was overplayed on the radio, but once you are able to say "ho ho ho" and all the other parts along with Bruce, it's time to take it out of rotation. As one blogger said, "Santa Clause is Switchin' to iTunes..."
  
• “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” - I had this on a 45 record as a kid, and I did not get it. Now that I'm older, I understand it a little better, but if the kid’s supposed to be in bed fast asleep, why is Dad all dressed up as Santa? Either Mom and Dad are into some really kinky games, or that’s not Dad. This is a traumatizing, disturbing song.

Favorites:

• "O Holy Night" - not so much for the words, but the music - this song is always very moving for me.


• "Peace on Earth/Little Drummer Boy" (David Bowie & Bing Crosby) - This will be considered a guilty pleasure by most, I'm sure, but I just love this one, even though I'm not a big fan of "The Little Drummer Boy" itself. My husband can't stand this song because he always had to sing the "bass" part, which is basically humming one note the whole song. I told him he misses the point that it's not WHAT we give, but that we do give. Of course, the parapapum is annoying, and, as another blogger wrote, "The song is so horrible that it can even induce hatred of drums." I also liked this comment, "Why would baby Jesus want to hear a drum when he really just wants to sleep?"


• "Baby It's Cold Outside" - this is a more recent favorite, but I guess it's because I don't hear it a billion times on the radio, so it has retained it's charm. Did you know it's written by Bing Crosby?


• I'm going to lump these together, but, as cheesey as they are, I love songs that are classic because of the performance, many of which are from the old Rankin-Bass christmas specials and I think all of them are on the Time/Life Christmas Treasury, which is the all-time best Christmas collection ever. These would include: "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" (Gene Autry), "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" (Burl Ives), "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" (Andy Williams), "White Christmas" (Bing Crosby), "Frosty the Snowman" (Gene Autry).


• "12 Days of Christmas" - Muppets version only - I adore John Denver, who is featured on this version. And Beaker going, "Me Me Me Me Me Me!" This one cracks me up EVERY TIME!


• "Sleigh Ride" - there is only one version of this that is worth listening to - the all instrumental version by Arthur Fiedler & The Boston Pops. This one makes me feel jingly all over - right up to the horsey sound at the end!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a year without
dogs barking or cats meowing to Jingle Bells!

Ugly Christmas Lights

My husband and I have a tradition. Every year, we like to drive around making fun of Christmas lights. Sometimes we see lights that look great, and we always praise those folks for doing a good job. But more often, we see strings of lights that are haphazardly draped over gutters, bizarre combinations of colors and sizes, and schizophrenic lights - where half of them are blinking, half aren't.

I was looking on the web for some blue Christmas lights. I don't know why I like blue so much, but I really like the way the blue lights look outside on a dark night. And I came across this brilliant website where they are celebrating the ugliest of Christmas decorations. You can find it at: UglyChristmasLights.com

The site was inspired by particularly garish light decorations, such as this one below...

Most of the photos are submitted via e-mail to the site, so you, too, can start your own tradition of looking for the ugliest and gawdiest lights in your neighborhood!