Notes to self.

Ella was in a bubbly bath tonight, making a bubble beard when I hear her call out:

“Mom.  Mom!  Know what?”    Sidenote: She rarely calls me “mama” anymore.  That hurts a little.

What?

“Santa Claus isn’t a real person.”

Who told you that?

“Nobody.  He’s just a guy in a suit.  There are lots and lots of them”

Huh.  Who brings the toys then?

“Wellllll…I think maybe the persons who made them.  Like maybe elves.”

I see.  You might be right.

“Yeah but there’s no Santa Claus.  There can’t be that many guys with a beard.”

When did my kid grow up?  And why are we having this conversation at the ripe, old age of 5?  Amelia stood next to me the whole time and didn’t say anything.  She is probably forming her own hypothesis about it all.  Or maybe she’s considering her next tactical manuever regarding the acquisition and consumption of her almost empty candy pumpkin.  She might not be thinking about Santa at all.

We don’t do much concerning Santa anyway.  One gift is all he brings.  The rest are from me or whomever else is on the tag.  But still.  Next will we talk about how babies are made (both girls know how they are born courtesy of Discovery Health)?  Or will be discuss the relative merits of Disney versus Dreamworks?  I am not ready for the world of big kids.  Not at all.

I went to Matty’s funeral today.  I had twitched my breakfast away by 9am so I was starving which made me kind of nauseous the whole time but I think that was to be expected.  The funeral was very generic.  It was organized and given by people who, I think, never really knew him.  The pastor seemed like he was trying to convert every butt in the seat.  He probably knew that he was preaching to the theatre heathens and thought he should do his best.  I think it was simply that he didn’t know Matt so he needed to fill the time.  I suspect his family never really knew him either.  If they did, they would have had one of us speak a little about him and our memories of him

In a big way, I’m glad that I was mildly annoyed with the whole situation.  That, and the whole large crowd of strangers issue.  I wanted to hide.  Actually, I wanted to not be there but I felt it in bad form to stay away.  No, my annoyance took away from my own reflection on Stephen’s funeral and Will’s funeral too.  It kept me from being all wrapped up in my own dark place and made me remember that this day was about Matt.  And not about Stephen or Will or me.  Especially not about me.  I was determined not to be a wreck.  I would not look at anyone. 

But times like that…funerals, weddings, family functions, reunions….that I really miss being part of a couple.  I could have leaned a little on my husband.  Been comforted by his presence.  His familiar hand.  And even if he wasn’t there, couldn’t be there, at least knowing that I could re-hash the memory for him over crock pot chili or at a commercial after the children were in bed would make the whole thing that much more bearable. 

This?  Is doing nothing for my hermit tendencies.  Even eharmony has given up on me.  They’ve sent me 200+ presumably single fellas in the metro area and there might be one to consider.  My standards have been raised.  I was totally spoiled. 

There is no such thing as Mr. Right Now when you are pushing thirty-five with two littles.