I took my last run of the year this morning. I had planned to go for a short one, but I ran for about six miles; my body was craving movement after the celebrations over the past week. While I ran, I thought about the last year. In many ways, it was the best year of my life – a full calendar year of being a family with Jared and Lucia – and in other ways, I was challenged to see beyond the darkness in the world; election ugliness, deaths, illness, racism, the war in Syria, climate change – it all seems like so much bad, bad, bad.

When I get in these moods and I feel hopeless and ineffective, Lucia is usually there to coax me back from the edge and remind me that love really does make all the difference.

So, I’m not ignoring the darkness out there, but I’m fighting back with light. Here’s a look at the last year’s highlights in seasons.

Winter

Spring

Summer

Fall

2016, you were everything, darkness and light, sorrow and joy. 2017, welcome.

We hosted Christmas Eve this year. We took a long family walk in the morning, and then, while Lucia napped and then busied herself merrily underfoot, Jared and I spent the afternoon cooking.

We put out a traditional Christmas Smorgasbord, most of the recipes for which were found in Scandinavian Christmas. The evening was intimate and cozy, and despite the flurry of activity in the kitchen, Jared and I were able to relax into the holiday.

Christmas Eve Smorgasbord

Appetizers:

salmon, capers, red onions, and lefse

Pickled beets

Sharp Wisconsin chedder and sourdough

Boiled shrimp

Main Course:

Swedish meatballs made with juniper berries and accompanied by lingonberry jam

Roasted root vegetable salad with spicy dijon dressing

Spinach and Dinosaur Kale Salad with roasted walnuts, goat cheese, and acorn squash with a balsamic vinaigrette

Roasted Potatoes

Turnip and Bacon Au Gratin

 Sweets:

Alice Waters’s Chocolate Pave with homemade whipped cream

Mexican Wedding Cookies

 Drinks:

Sparkling Water

Mulled Cider

Champagne

Our Christmas Eve Smorgasbord kicked off a weekend of celebration with both sets of grandparents, family, and friends. Lucia’s joy was palpable and contagious. Merry Christmas!

Since having a baby I’ve had to get used to messes, dishes placed hastily in the sink until Lucia’s nap time, a pile of laundry ever-ready to be folded, my hair pulled back haphazardly.

I used to fret a lot about the messes; in the era of Pinterest and filters, I imagined other moms in neat little outfits, mothering tidy little children in well-kept homes.

I devoted, especially in the early days of motherhood, entirely too much time to fretting about the house when guests would come over. I’d waste precious nap time making things look “just so” rather than engaging in any real self-care. When a friend turned up unannounced for a walk, I angst-ed over the remnants of a recent trip to Colorado – toiletries, a fleece – left out to be put back later. I apologized in a text, “I’m sorry about the state of our house!” My friend wrote back, “It made me feel good to be somewhere with love and warmth.” A-ha.

Messiness is where life lives. The blocks are strewn all over the floor because we build with them. The small bookshelf in our kitchen is great precisely because Lucia can pull her books off the shelves. The sink is full because we’ve shared a meal together. Messiness is real. Like the Skin Horse explains in the Velveteen Rabbit, being real isn’t always pretty. He tells the Rabbit, “You become. It takes a long time. That’s why it doesn’t often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because when you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

So, I’ve begun to embrace the realness in my life. Last week, I invited eight moms and their children over to my house for a Holiday Lunch. I wanted to celebrate the season. I didn’t put off the event until my house was perfect – it was never going to be – or until life had calmed down enough – it wouldn’t.

Instead, I sent out an invite promising holiday tunes, a simple meal, and a cozy house. I made a big pot of carrot soup. I spread raspberry jam and almond butter on top of sourdough bread and used a cookie cutter for ivy-shaped sandwiches for the kids. I baked my grandmother’s Mexican Wedding Cookies. I lit candles. I mulled cider on the stove, so the house smelled like cinnamon and Christmas. I played Pandora’s Charlie Brown Christmas station. I pulled out blocks and a tunnel.

The rest just happened.

The babies played. Crumbs fell on the floor. Moms laughed. Lucia, having decided in the weeks before holiday celebrations that people simply wear her out, lasted for ten minutes and then napped for four hours. The party wasn’t perfect, but it was real.

Cheers to a real holiday!

These are a few of my favorite things, truly. Color-coordination, expensive wrapping paper, whirly-gigged ribbons: not for me. I’m not tidy enough. I don’t carefully measure package dimensions; the scotch tape is, inevitably placed crookedly, on the ends. Indeed, I like the mix or ordinary and exceptional  to be found in a brown-paper bag and a ribbon. I love the old-fashioned look, the thrifty-ness, the heft. These are packages that can withstand the wind-whipping and the snow falling as they’re hurried out of the car and inside to a family Christmas celebration. These are packages that can be tucked in a box and shipped cross-country. These are packages that can be put together in a dash when you’ve found just the right gift for someone and can hardly wait to give it. These are packages that put to good use the brown bags that pile up, despite your vow to remember your reusable bags.

I keep a box in the attic, and throughout the year I squirrel away bits of ribbon, colored tissue paper, and other wrapping supplies that make their way to me through various gifts and occasions. The contents of the box are eclectic: a pink ribbon from an Easter celebration; a yellow bow that held together a bouquet of flowers; glittery tissue paper from a Christmas gift. When it comes time for wrapping, I pull out my grocery bags and the box and get to work. I play Christmas music and don’t worry too much about tidiness.

I like the rustic look anyway.