Time for family and friends to gather under the umbrella of good cheer and genuine connection.

Keeping things simple and sweet is the secret to living a balanced life every day. Our last few Christmases have been hard, juggling life, family and finances. But those years have helped us grow.

Here are 10 ways a buckled economy can help keep things in check over the holidays.

1. Learn to say NO. Saying yes, when you should say no, leaves you resentful and overwhelmed. When people are really your friends, and your family really loves you, they understand when you can’t participate in a project or activity. When funds were tight, staying in became our new “going out,” and to this day an evening under our roof is our preference.

2. You don’t need a gym membership to stay in shape. Living in California made it easy to walk everywhere since the weather was usually perfect and there were always plenty of activities in walking distance. Walking is one my favorite family activities because everyone benefits from the fresh air, conversation, or silence. There have been many times this practice has helped Haley and Ethan find their inner calm. A brisk walk clears my mind, and the absence of distractions evens the playing field. I love the rain and snow in Cincinnati, and feel invigorated by the brisk air. Plus, I have a favorite raincoat and boots to splash in the puddles!

3. Healthy eating doesn’t have to cost a lot. When scarcity was knocking at our door, our food choices were at their healthiest. We worked harder with less. It killed me watching people with EBT cards and carts heaping with the trashiest, most processed junk imaginable. EBT cardholders had totals over $200.00. Mine were under $60 for fruits, vegetables and grains. Our children never knew how hard it was, because Sean and I made our shopping into a math game. We have this many dollars, what can we do? We found plenty of delicious recipes and one pot meals, and had fun cooking everything from scratch.

4. Stick to a budget. Before going shopping for food or gifts, we always decide on a budget. Sean is excellent about helping the family stay disciplined within the borders of a pre-determined budget. You cannot buy happiness, even with an avalanche of gifts. I’ve been guilty of trying in the past, but time has taught me well. Now that we have children, I feel our family must work together to donate time, supplies and food to benefit others. These memories will always last far longer than the battery operated toys beneath the tree.

5. Be generous to others who have less.  This year Haley  and Ethan decided they didn’t want to spend money on gifts, but rather, they wanted to use their allowance to buy necessities for Operation Christmas Child, St. Joseph’s Orphanage, and the YWCA Battered Women’s Shelter. Bringing holiday to cheer to others feels so great and the glow on their faces and the recipients is priceless.

6. Be realistic. As our family grows and changes, so do our rituals and traditions. The holidays are not about perfection. Let the children decorate the tree in their special way with homemade decorations. And be okay with a mess after making cookies and gingerbread houses. Being fiscally responsible forced us to initiate and maintain a simple lifestyle with activities filled our hearts and spirits with love and compassion. That is what we will remember 20 years from now when we’re sitting around the table at the holidays saying, “Remember when…”

7. Plan ahead. Part of the reason everyone gets so crazy this time of the year is because a lack of planning creates unnecessary crisis. Set aside specific days for shopping, baking, visiting friends and other activities. Plan your menus and make your shopping lists ahead of time to prevent last minute scrambling for forgotten items.

8. It’s all in the presentation. You don’t need fancy appetizers or filet mignon to impress. Present simple foods with flair, made with love. Kick it up a couple of notches by adding real plates, flatware that doesn’t match, and colorful mismatched cloth napkins instead of the ironically expensive and tacky paper/plastic products that can cheapen even the classiest food. If you are like me, doing dishes is actually a pleasure since it builds in down time when the holiday cheer becomes overwhelming.

9. Turn the ordinary into extraordinary. Don’t depend on being a fancy pants to create the holiday glow. Great people, simple food, and time to talk and laugh are the essential ingredients to a memorable holiday. Add twinkling lights, silly games, and genuine good cheer, and you set an awesome precedent for you and your family that will be remembered for years to come.

10. Decorate with natural ingredients. Don’t buy expensive holiday decorations. There are plenty of natural materials like evergreen shrubs, pine cones, holly, and real fruit (apples, oranges, pears) to spray paint gold for center pieces. Strings of cranberry and popcorn garland, plus plenty of candles, cloves, cinnamon and cider simmering on the stove can turn your home into holiday aromatherapy.

Don’t let a sagging economy drain the fun from your holidays. The core of capturing the festivities, fun and family comes from devoting care and thought to taking what you have and making it shine.

Keep it simple and everyone will be smiling, not stressing.

I have wonderful memories of Thanksgiving as a child. The holiday always fell the week of my father’s birthday, making it one of his favorites. His unusually buoyant mood kept the rest of the house happy, despite my mother always over-buying on the Turkey (it’s mostly bones and carcass, you know!)

Thanksgiving meant a happy dad, a busy mom, and a constant stream of old Twilight Zone episodes, and of course, plenty of food. Though I never really cared too much for the typical Thanksgiving spread, shocking as that may be. Traditional turkey, potatoes, etc., are nothing compared to the way I’ve celebrated Thanksgiving for the last 14 years.

I love pasta so much that I don’t even care how much it makes me fat, which is why Cindy prepares a trio of my favorite pastas for Thanksgiving and Christmas each year.

This year I’m especially grateful for the year itself, and while I won’t waste your time listing everything I feel fortunate for right now, here are the 10 things I’m most thankful for this Thanksgiving

My immediate family. Cindy, Haley and Ethan do more for me between sunrise and sunset than I will ever be able to truly articulate. They are the reason I rise each morning, the fuel that keeps me running so fast, and the reason my eyes never stray from our future’s horizon. My family has given me endless faith and tireless support. It’s appropriate that the thing in this world which gives me the most purpose is also what I am most thankful for

My friends and family in California. Surprisingly, I don’t miss living in California nearly as much as I thought I would. And I don’t mind the weather in Ohio at all. Sure, the four seasons might lose their novelty in another few years, but right now I’m still awed by their beauty. This fall has been the most beautiful three months of nature I’ve ever seen, and watching summer fade then fall to winter has been amazing for my writer’s soul. Yes, I still miss great Mexican food, but the only thing I truly miss about California are my family and friends – mostly my mom, dad, and sister, Megan. I’m grateful for the tools that make it easy to stay in touch, and a little mad at myself for not doing a better job, but thankful I have the self-awareness to know I must do better in the coming year.

My truly amazing partners. I don’t have a single regret about building my business online. It is, no doubt, the single best thing I’ve ever done that didn’t involve having children or marrying Cindy. But the biggest benefit isn’t the unlimited freedom or bright future nesting at the edge of our horizon – it’s the amazing partners I’ve been lucky enough to meet and bond with: David Wright, my creative collaborator for the last three years, Lori Taylor, the woman who shifted my family’s life for the better and brought us here to Ohio, Tracy O’Connor, a remarkably hard-working mother of five with a passionate voice, and Danny Cooper, a brilliant young man with an impossibly bright future. I’m lucky enough to call these people my friends, but am immeasurably grateful they are also partners and collaborators who I get to build amazing things with.

Amazon. As a buyer, I love Amazon. As a writer, I love them even more. As a publisher, I don’t know what I would do without them. My entire business shifted over the last ten months, and after three long years I’m now doing almost exactly what I set out to do. Amazon has made that possible. David and I have published a couple dozen titles to Kindle this year, and have our publishing calendar for the first quarter of 2012 fully mapped. Being able to publish this quantity of content at this level of quality would be impossible without Amazon’s Create A Space, their Kindle and its installed user base, or their A-B-C easy to use publishing pages. No single online entity has made it more possible for me to build the publishing company I see in my head. Dave and I inch closer to those ideals each day, and have Amazon to thank for every one.

Courage. Not just mine, but Cindy’s. It took tremendous courage to do what we did these last three years. It was hard to take the risk, absorb the debt, and keep on marching no matter what. Courage doesn’t mean you’re not afraid, it means you keep walking no matter how much your knees may shake. I was afraid, but willing to walk because Cindy was always willing to walk beside me. Courage isn’t easy, but it’s essential if you expect to make your dreams come true. I am thankful for my courage, as well as my partners and Cindy, who have the courage to never stop believing in me.

Ohio. I love this state even more than I thought I would. I love the seasons – the deep greens in summer, the every color of the fall, and the thousand fingered trees that mark December’s slow death of the year. I love the quiet, calm, and manners. I love the schools and the long, winding drives. I love that people wave when I go running. I love the ice cream. I love that deer frolick in back of my house. I love that I feel like my children are safe when they’re playing outside, and not just because I’m telling myself so. It was risky to leave everything I’ve known for three and a half decades, and I really, truly hoped we’d be okay with the move. But we love Ohio, are happy we moved, and I couldn’t be more thankful that we did.

Ethan and Haley’s school. Probably the number one reason we moved to Ohio in the first place. It might seem silly to move 2,300 miles for a school, but our school was worth it. One look and we knew it wouldn’t be possible to get something comparable in California, not without moving to a different city and having immediate, and drastically different means. I love how much the school expects from Ethan and Haley, and love how eager they are to meet those expectations. Our children are growing up in the most wonderful ways, and a lot of that has to do with their school. I am grateful every morning on the drive to the bus stop, and every day when the bus drops them at our front door, where they run squealing up the drive and into the house, excited to tell us about their day.

My voice. I always knew I was a talker, but never had a clue it meant I could be a writer. Every day I’m grateful that Cindy never gave up, and did everything she could to hammer the truth into my head until I believed it almost as much as she did. Nearly 14 years later I’m proud of my voice, and grateful I can use it to make a living for my family, a living that could take us anywhere in the world. From making readers laugh to making them cry, finding and developing my voice has made me a stronger writer, sure, but it’s also made me a better person, husband and father. And I’m thankful for that every day.

An awesome future. Each month this year has been better than the one before, this last the best of all. From having the #1 free horror download on Kindle, to having several best-selling children’s poetry and online writing titles, to proving a fiction funnel that will allow me and Dave to build a remarkable publishing company in 2012, the future could’t look brighter. Sure, I’m going to have to work my face off next year, but I’m used to that. And I love it. But now I’m immeasurably grateful that the years of hard work have a light at the end of the tunnel and that that light is bright enough to illuminate the remainder of the way.

Readers. I can never forget the readers who make this life possible. It’s been a beautiful thing, getting e-mails when people finish my books, read something I wrote online, or saw me say something which touched them in some way. I write to leave a legacy for me and my family, and to make a good living, but I also write to touch the hearts and minds of readers like you. I couldn’t do what I do without YOU. Without readers, I am only yelling down an empty hallway. Thank YOU for reading, I’m grateful for YOU every day.

Thanksgiving is a beautiful holiday, a time to sit, break bread, and reflect on everything the year has given. The year has been good to me, I hope it has been good to you, too. Take one minute to acknowledge the one thing you’re most grateful for with a comment below.

The hope in Haley’s eyes always makes my hear skip a beat. She asks this question often, whenever we’re checking the mail together. I never tire of hearing it, though I do sometimes sigh dramatically.

No, not today, I say with a sag in my shoulders, only to psyche her out with a Ta-Dah!, pulling the sacred letter from behind my back and hoping that sort of play will never grow old for either of us.

We left our beloved Long Beach, California one year ago.

Time and distance give testimony to true friendship and kindred spirits. Long distance relationships can naturally evolve through pictures, words, texts, e-mails, and voice mails. We love Facebook updates and couldn’t see smiles in real time without the amazing technology behind Skype, but the creme-de-la-creme will always be…

 SNAIL MAIL

The humble snail mail and care package combo is an art, but hopefully not a dying one.

My daughter Haley and her BFF In Cali have perfected snail mail, alongside the modern day techno-instants of texts, Skype and e-mail.

I love Haley’s BFF, and her Mama. We’re on the same page when it comes to letter writing – words, art, pictures – it doesn’t matter how our children tell their stories, but they must take the time to tell them by hand.

Snail mail is sacred. Here are six ways to do it well.

6 Ways to Pack the Perfect Package

1. Keep it Simple. Don’t get complicated. Keep things as simple, thoughtful and inexpensive as possible. We live in Ohio where fall is GORGEOUS. A red leaf pressed onto paper with a few honest written thoughts is AWESOME, any day of the week.
2. Ounces Count. Again, keep it simple. It’s tempting to stuff a gazillion things in a box, but like with holiday food, pounds pad quickly. Ask your post office to help you fit your items into a priority flat-rate box. That’s usually the best option. Make measurement an art and it will be easier to plan what to make and pack.
3. Send Sweet Treats. Some of the best treats year-round to send  include cookies, brownies and Chex mix. Snack sized Pirate Booty was a big score from a recent care package sent to Cali., but nothing trumps my BFF’s unforgettable chocolate chip cookies. She lovingly wraps each cookie in Saran Wrap. Our family breaks each cookie into four morsels to savor after each meal until they are gone.
4. Avoid Aromatherapy. Avoid mixing aromatherapy products such as soaps or flowery candles with a food package unless it’s a spicy candle (that works with everything). No one wants to eat cookies that taste like soap.
5. Do Double Duty. Rely on socks, towels, mittens, bathing suits, comic books, menus from fun restaurants in your city, and stuffed animals (go Webkinz!) to cushion love notes, pictures and artwork. Nooks and crannies are terrific spots to fill with favorite individually wrapped hard candies, packs of gum, licorice, lollipops, granola bars, tea bags, stickers. Or even bits of nature, such as leaves, acorns, pinecones or seashells.
6. Be An Angel. There are many organizations that encourage sending care packages for those people most in need. From thanking our men and women serving our country in the military, to Operation Christmas Child of Samaritan’s Purse, make someone feel like they matter with something sent by mail. The U.S. Postal Service provides a Military Care Kit, which includes boxes, tape, labels and custom forms. You can pick it up at the post office or call 800-610-8734.

As much as we embrace and appreciate our quickly growing technology, there’s something special about getting a letter or package in the mail. That’s true no matter who you are.

We never want Haley or Ethan to lose appreciation of this simple fact. Snail mail should be embraced throughout the year, but with the holidays around the corner, everyone has an opportunity to put a great practice into place now that can carry on long after the holidays are over.

These small portraits amass over time, creating an anthology of life we can store, share and set aside as an emotional companion during sad and happy times alike.

In my mind, Halloween is the kick off to indulgence and quickly approaching holidays; an amazing time for children and grown-ups alike.

The surge of adrenaline while racing from house to house, collecting the maximum haul, while transforming your identity. And for grown-ups, buying your favorite confections in bulk, of course with the intention of passing them out to trick-or-treaters, only to end up horrified when you’ve eaten an entire bowl of miniature candy bars in a single sitting, or half.

Halloween is an epic time to celebrate the things that go bump in the night, and in the bottom of our bellies.

Our children start planning for Halloween around the end of summer: discussing costumes, playing pretend trick-or-treat with their toys, developing strategies for accruing the most candy, tallying the number of crafts we can squeeze in before the BIG day, plotting the number of ways to scoop the most fun from a pumpkin, and decorating with plenty of garish materials and artistic freedom.

Childhood is sacred, and kids naturally enjoy the independence to explore and pretend. And, let’s face it, being cute and getting candy is Utopia from a child’s perspective.

Each year is more memorable than the one before, as each new costume inches our children closer toward a time when they’ll be passing the candy instead of retrieving it.

One of our most memorable Halloweens was in California. Our family dressed as characters from Star Wars, gathering robes and accessories from Goodwill and the local thrift stores. We created a fabulous look for under $20.00 and had a ton of time to play pretend prior to Halloween.

This appealed to Sean and me since we’re arguably the biggest kids in the family and our Haley and Ethan were obsessed with Star Wars at the time. Trying on our costumes in the evening to make sure we had all our Halloween moves coordinated became an after dinner ritual a few nights a week that early October.

We felt like heroes in our children’s eyes.

The children planned craft activities to turn our home from warm to horrifying, though it was the trails of glue and glitter and the residual cleanup that were truly scary.

The chewy nougat center to this particular Halloween was when our school community coordinated a Trunk-to-Treat Halloween event in conjunction with a Harvest Festival and movie on the lawn.

At least 50 cars gathered in a horseshoe. Trunks were open, decorated with pumpkins, spider webbing, brooms, cauldrons, and bats. Some people went all out with 70’s disco balls, pirates, and luau themes.

There was candy galore, hot cider, chili, cornbread, pumpkin pie, and plenty of funny photo ops. Our community united to celebrate and create a memory none of us will forget.

Our children loved it because, like many  other children who attended our school, we didn’t live in a neighborhood where trick-or-treating was especially safe, or celebrated. The memory’s true value was the community, safety; fun, food and good friends.

Hot apple cider never tasted sweeter and snuggling my babies with my BFF Mommy friends while watching “The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown,” and stuffing enough candy in our mouths to make our dentists shudder.

How you choose your stolen moments with your children, and what you do with that time, is a reflection of your inner child, and the integrity you hold toward traditions and happiness.

How will you make this Halloween memorable for your family?

Here Are 5 Simple Ways To Make This Halloween One Your Family Will Never Forget!

1) DIY Costumes 

Let’s face it. Halloween is a free ticket to let your freak flag fly. You can be the saucy maid instead of “just the maid,”and your kids can create crazy costumes.

It’s okay if it’s not perfect. It’s DIY!

http://familyfun.go.com/halloween/halloween-kids-costumes/

What’s more fun than letting your child be in charge for a change? Let them have the ownership and you can take the night off!

2) Ghoulish Cooking

Don’t know what to cook, that’s okay!

Let each family member choose ghoulish recipes or fall foods from a cookbook. Sean, Haley and Ethan put a post it by the meal of their choice in the recipe book and voila! That becomes next week’s menu.

http://www.brittablvd.com/Halloween/recipes.html

We get to try new foods, and the children always seem to eat more when it’s their featured recipe.

3) Let Your Children Do The Decorating

Halloween is not the time to be fussy or Type-A about decorations.

Let the tape show. It’s okay if everything isn’t symmetrical. That’s what makes it scary! Relax and let the children have fun. It will always mean so much more when they are involved in the process.

http://www.marthastewart.com/photogallery/halloween-decorating

4) Halloween Humor

Much to Sean’s delight (since he manufactures them by the quarter million) I am a lover of corny puns and jokes. They make me laugh over and over and over. Which is why my children go on daily quests to find knock knocks and riddles for me.

Print some Halloween jokes, cut them into strips, then pass them around in a jack-o-lantern at the dinner table. Everyone can be a comedian with a riddle in hand.

http://www.halloween.com/halloween-jokes-1.php

It’s funny and promotes reading and critical thinking. Who doesn’t love that?

5) Halloween Games 

One of our most frequent after-dinner rituals is a game of indoor hide-n-seek. It never gets old, but during Halloween we kick it up a notch by turning out the lights.

Create your own games or go to:

http://www.primarygames.com/holidays/halloween/games.htm.

It doesn’t get simpler than a game, and every child loves them.

Although we are 2,300 miles away from our zombie loving family in California, this year we will maintain our rituals of parading in our costumes while playing lights out hide-n-seek, trying as many recipes and crafts as possible, trick or treating for truckloads of goodies, then snuggling to “The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown.”

The children are aiming to horrify our new dentist by eating gobs of candy, but it turns out the dentist in Ohio offers $1.00 a pound for bags of uneaten loot.

This may be the year that dollars trump candy for our 7 and 9 year olds.

(Nah, who are we kidding?)

Cindy

What are some of your favorite Halloween memories or traditions?

Please leave a comment below!

But you still owe me an apology for your Mexican food.

I tweeted my grievance about two weeks back, but you’ve yet to apologize.

For the most part, you’ve been wonderful. It’s remarkable how you’ve made me feel so instantly at home after living a full life 2,350 miles away.

But I do.

My neighbors are friendly and our back yard is a forest. I’ve been running a couple of miles a day since getting here. I used to run an easy path on a sandy boardwalk, now I’m forcing my body up one side of a steep trail, then down the other side, pounding my Nikes into the dirt until my swimming stomach starts drowning my racing heart.

My run now takes me up a foot trail, through a forest, up a highway, down the other side and home again. And in the month I’ve been running, I don’t think a single car has passed without a friendly wave.

I drive to an office populated with awesome peeps. The drive takes just two songs, three with traffic, and you always make it pretty. And with fall inching forward, the four of us look out our windows each evening to see striking strips of red leaves licking a world of retreating green behind them.

The weather’s not too bad. Far better than expected, really. The way the citizens of Cinci sing their song, I imagined it rained fire in summer and fury in winter. So far it’s been uncomfortable at worst and a welcome change from a lifetime norm at best.

We did have to wait a month for our furniture, and what arrived was a cruel mockery of what we’d packed. I’d been waiting a month for my desk and am now working from a card table instead, since splinters simply won’t support the weight of my Macbook.

But that’s not your fault, Ohio. And even if it was, you more than made up for it by having an Ikea just 20 minutes away. Cindy’s been wanting to redecorate for a while, now we have a bulletproof excuse.

But you do still owe me an apology for the Mexican food.

I’ll admit, I’m spoiled. Growing up in Southern California meant that discovering delicious Mexican food was as simple as stepping outside and following the scent. I see you’re trying, with the Mexican restaurants lining Beechmont and their ultimately empty south of the border promises screaming from the windows.

In fact, you almost had us last week. The restaurant was promising; perfect music and the decor a bullseye. And though I wouldn’t swear to it, I thought I smelled lard. Yet with ketchup clearly in the salsa, I wasn’t too surprised when my carne asada showed up as a cheese steak.

I have found one mecca, with Mexican food delicious enough to make me drool on the keyboard, but alas, their carne asada is $45. So for now I’ll be drooling from a distance.

I’m sure we’ll eventually uncover some hole in the wall that will be able to deliver the delicious. In the meantime, we’ll be happy with the amazing steaks and Thai food you seem to do so well, the wonderful people who seem to enjoy smiling as much as I do, and the daily symphony of slightly swaying trees.

Our family moved east – 2,350 miles from our cozy beach digs in Long Beach, California to the all American city of Cincinnati, Ohio. We’ve quickly transplanted our Pacific Coast routines to lush green hills and rolling meadows where a million blue and orange butterflies love to mingle.

Haley and Ethan went back to school last Monday, full of excitement for all the new things; new teachers and new friends, but mostly, a brand new school.

We met the teachers the week before and purchased uniforms from The Spirit Shop located on the school’s campus. The name Spirit Shop alone compelled me to buy something. Armed with our crisp white polos, proudly stamped with the school’s name and emblem, we skipped out the door.

The next time we crossed the threshold, Haley and Ethan would officially be students.

They’ve been confident, cheerful and entirely eager to run from one end of their new stomping grounds to the other. I was the one with butterflies on the eve of a new school year.

I went through iPhoto, scrolling through every back to school picture, thinking about the milestones while looking at the signature outfits and trademark poses; cheesy grins above the perfect apple for the teacher. Classic.

This year’s first day of school saw helium balloons gracing the winding stair case as light illuminated every window, door and smile. As soon as we crossed the entrance Ethan and Haley abandoned our hands and scampered up the stairs. Sean and I looked at each other in awe as our children left us standing there soaking it all in.

Ethan looked over his shoulder, “I know where to go Mom, is it okay if I go by myself?”

GULP!

I flipped through my rolodex of memories – all the Moms and Dads I had assured, consoled and hugged as they sobbed, worried and obsessed about their baby on the first day of school.

GULP!

I paused to annihilate the ugly cry about to surface from my throat, then reached inside my soul to give the love I’d given to so many parents on that first day of school back to myself. I kung fu gripped Sean’s hand as we walked back to the car, holding my head high, while feeling proud and injured in the same breath.

Sean whispered to me, “It’s okay Mama, this is what we wanted, remember?”

I looked up once more as a butterfly graced my cheek and moved my eyes to the stairs. I saw my son going to the library with his class and my daughter bringing a paper to the office with a new schoolmate. They both waved inconspicuously with their pointer finger, just as I had taught them.

The moment played itself out in a beautiful symphony, and my heart felt  humbled by the harmony of my Haley and Ethan moving along, composing a new song for their new conductor.

Bye bye butterfly!

But here I am up in the sky and on my way to new adventure. The acid of the unknown has settled, finally fleeing along with the feeling that there’s something I’m forgetting – that emotional carry-on that seems to accompany every flight.

Before I land, I’d like to make a promise. But before I do I would like to say thanks to the trinity of people who have saturated my days and nights with their eternal support and unflinching faith.

You three have been there to see me type my fingers down to raw and blistered digits, to constantly inspire and encourage, and to hold me on the rare occasion when I finally vented a cry, wondering with shuddering tears if I would ever make it.

Cindy, you never doubted it. Mia, you never stopped reminding me I was the world’s best writer, no matter how many times I assured you I wasn’t. And Max, it would be impossible for you to love me any more. Believe me, buddy, the feeling’s mutual.

We set to render our online dreams to reality and we have, though at times we’ve had to hack through the hedges of Hades to get here. Back when we first started, our dreams were fresh, and they alone were enough to give us all the energy we needed. We worked the preschool by daylight, then flipped the candle and burned the other end until well past midnight. Night after night after night.

Write a fresh post, answer comments and emails, get my name out there as much as I could. Go to sleep spent, then wake up and do it again.

“I promise,” I said. “It won’t be this way forever.”

You believed in the dream.

We closed our school and the money dried immediately. We tightened our belts and prepared for hard times. Even poised, things were a high multiple worse than expected.

Our dream was clear, but far away. Like a mountain’s peak looming at the edge of an endless sweeping plain. Though we remained forever hopeful, we were under no illusions.

It would be difficult.

And it was.

Month after month our dreams mushroomed in cost and our horizon continued to pixelate. My ambition to write for a living shifted to cruel mockery. I dreamed of writing fiction and gorgeous prose that might someday pass between friends and lovers. In reality I wrote about lawnmowers, barbecues, DUI’s and auto warranties – when I was lucky.

I wrote garbage articles that no one would ever read. As much as I loathed them, I did my best to keep the smile on my face. The three of you needed to see it, and though the pay was pennies, pennies made dollars and we needed them badly.

Every morning you would rise, Cindy, to the tip-tip-tapping of my keyboard. Max would climb on one side and Mia on the other. My arms would snake around the smallish set of similar shoulders, but I kept tip-tip-tapping the entire time.

Off to school, then home again home again, jiggity gig… The sun low in the sky, Daddy was still tip-tap-tapping.

“Daddy needs more time,” Mommy would say, “But he’ll be down for dinner.”

A bite to eat, a glance at the homework, then back upstairs. Another few hours of hammering at the keys, racing to minimize the next days to-do’s while my mind tried to part the creeping fog that always seemed to settle in around midnight. Eventually, I’d slip into bed exhausted.

Cindy, I’m sorry for every night you waited up for a me who was too exhausted to speak. And I’m sorry for every night you waited on me, only to succumb to sleep before I arrived.

The seven day scheduled stretched for far too long. When we finally took the Macbook in to get the keyboard repaired, the Apple Genius said he’d never seen one so battered.

“I promise,” I said, looking all three of you in the eyes more times than I can count. “I’m only working this hard now so I won’t always have to.”

You all believed me because I’ve never let you down before.

Eventually the nickel and dime articles evaporated and David and I managed to build our business to a point where all our needs were being met. A growing list of happy clients were in love with our work, eager to book, and even willing to wait in line.

Then, after waiting so long for our patience to yield triumph, I’ve gone and laid it all on the line. I’ve embraced the gaping chasm of a certain unknown and pulled those I love most, once again into the trenches of risk.

And you haven’t flinched.

Cindy, your faith is unwavering as always. Max and Mia you both believe in me with a pristine perspective that I find both inspiring and entirely humbling.

Thank you.

The gentleman sitting to my left probably thinks me sad. It might be my red eyes and shallow breath, or the tear that’s nested at the edge of my eye, threatening to fall.

And though that tear will make good on its promise, I’m sure, before I finish this page, I am not sad in the least.

Just reflective.

Perhaps it’s being thousands of feet in the air, miles melting between us by the second. Or maybe it’s because I’m about to turn a decisive page in our family history. Could be because in another couple of hours I’m going to shake the hand of a man who has become impossibly important to all our lives, and yet whom I’ve not actually met until today.

I’ve taken the long way around my thoughts today. I suppose it’s because for the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m writing without hurry. I look outside the tiny window and see nothing but sky. I close my eyes and see nothing but the wide expanse of pregnant promise.

Despite my meandering thoughts, I’ve not forgotten my point.

I want need to make a promise.

I know these last two weeks have swallowed me and that it’s probably scary for you.

I know I promised I was only working so hard so that I wouldn’t always have to, and that in the last several days I’ve returned to some of my old, worst habits.

I know that we grow older each day, that there are no do-overs and that I owe all three of you the best possible life.

I’ve not forgotten a thing.

I promise that you will always come first and that if this change isn’t right for us, then it will not be right for me.

Years will pass and I will remember the chaos of the past two weeks, but the specifics will fade to haze.

But Max, I will ALWAYS remember out picnic adventure, “boys time” last Saturday and the way you made the most of every second we had together. I wish I could have been less distracted. You certainly deserve it. I promise I’m not oblivious. I misted you too.

Mia, I will always remember you coming home with Pepper, and a smile as wide as a sunset at sea. I know that your ”not wanting to talk about it“ was your way of silently saying, ”I really wish you wouldn’t leave, Daddy.“ You are my first born and my life has been richer every day and in every way for having you in it.

Cindy, I will always remember how you squeezed my hand tighter, thought harder and said more with your eyes than I can sometimes manage with a pen full of ink.

Thank you for trusting me through this transition. I promise my aim is true and we will hit our mark.

Mia, I’m sure you are reading. Would you please do me a favor and read this to your brother?

Max, tuck in the lip buddy, I’ll be home soon.

Cindy, thank you for everything. We are but two books in a single volume.

I love you all.

Sean Platt is an author of books about life and professional ghostwriter.

You know how I love “stuff”, and there is nothing better than sharing my “stuff” with those I love. It’s great to find these treasures but even more fun when I see the excitement in my grandchildren’s eyes when “grammy brings them a treat.”

This probably goes back to when I was a little girl and my “nina” used to spoil me rotten. My aunt and uncle had no car but they would take me all over the place on the greyhound bus and the “red car” streetcars. My family had very humble beginnings, but there was never a shortage of treats, even if it was a box of cracker-jacks with the much coveted prize at the bottom.

My dad was the king of chotchkis, as you well know.

Before I was born he had been in the shoe business and the “sample size” back then was a size 4, which coincidentally was my mom’s size. She had shoes to rival Imelda Marcos!  Dad always had a new pair of shoes, a handbag or a piece of costume jewelry for her and it didn’t matter how cheesy some of the trinkets were, her eyes would light up as though he had presented her with a box from Tiffany’s. They were in their late eighties and he was still giving her goodies!

When you and Megan were growing up I always picked up goodies for you whenever I went somewhere that I felt warranted a souvenir because you were not there with me. (even if it was a nintendo-saurus shirt I chose to make for you at the arts and crafts trade show, much to your chagrin). So please understand that I have had a lifetime of this gift giving habit, either on the giving or receiving end. Old habits die very hard!

The Dora the Explorer house was a real feather in my cap! I think you are wildly exaggerating about its condition. It was in great shape and had most of the accessory pieces to go with it, and as I recall, the kids were very excited and played with it all night.  The glamour might have worn off sooner than I thought, but for the instant gratification, it was great!

When I saw it sitting on the curb I could not believe that someone would be so wasteful as to throw it out for the trashmen. They could have donated it to a women and children’s shelter or a church nursery. I guess everyone does not have the same preservation/recycling ethic that I do.  How many children have no toys or very few toys because their families can barely get by with the necessities?  I had to rescue it!

I knew the kids would have a good time.  I will never be deterred from salvaging other people’s perfectly good things that are put out  to further engorge our landfills so that the kids can have the newer model of whatever it was. In the future, however, I will donate these things to charity.

Now, the donkey…..ah yes, the donkey…..I WAS ELATED  when I saw him sitting at the Goodwill, just waiting to be adopted.  I wondered how in the world I could get him to fit into my little Honda Element. I just KNEW  WITHOUT A CRUMBLE OF DOUBT  that the kids would go berserk when I walked through the door with him…..and they did!  I did not notice that the tail was missing until I got to your house. Apparently, the tail had dropped off in the parking lot.

I thought that it was hilarious that two weeks later when I walked into the store they remembered I had bought him and saved the tail for me.  Sorry I keep forgetting it…It’s probably cleaner than the donkey at this point and won’t match.

Ok, so no more presents for my grandkids….nah, no can do!!  BUT….. I promise to keep them at a very minimum and make them either edible, wearable, miniscule in size, or disposable with a short shelf life, such as stickers, paperback coloring books or crafts we can do together.

I propose explaining the problem to the children and giving them the option of one new goodie in, one old goodie out.  They could even make a “treasure chest” of things they are willing to donate forward with the prospect of receiving a new treat.  We can designate one “grammy nite” a month as “treat night” if you wish.

Is this a good compromise?

I understand your quest for minimalization, but please do not deny me my grammy spoiling rights altogether. that’s what grammies are supposed to do! Within a few years they will be too old to be dazzled by fun little trinkets.

Like Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, Grammies were destined to bring stuff!

You know I love you right? I enjoy your weekly Grammy night, along with the mirth and merriment you bring to the dinner table, even though you’re almost always late.

But please, please, PLEASE! stop bringing stuff over every time you visit.

I know you think it’s sweet, and part of a grammy’s job, but your just one little thing here and there have accumulated over the last half decade. Grains of sand scattered over the last five years have turned into a beach.

You’ve been coming over for dinner once per week for five years now. For each of those years I’ve consistently asked begged you to please stop bringing stuff over.

Let’s do some simple math!

52 weeks in a year times five years is 260 weeks. Times two children, that’s 520 tchotchkes. And sure, there have been a few random weeks when we either didn’t have Grammy Night or you showed up empty handed, but you and I both know you love to make up for these occasional deficits with a tsunami of surplus the following week. And always with certain glee gleaming in your eyes.

PLEASE STOP!

Your grandchildren do not need any more things. If you choose to spoil them, great, please do it with the gift of your time. Show up when you say you’re going to and spend time playing with them, preferably on their level and speaking their language. It is difficult for me to see you constantly grooming them to expect some sort of prize every time you knock on the door.

I’ll never forget the shocked, and rather hurt, expression on your face the first time you showed up empty handed and Mia said, “Grammy, what do you have for me today?”

You told her that was spoiled. You were right. But gee, Ma, whad’ya expect? Pavlov’s dog got slobber on the rug after the ding of a bell for a reason. It is precisely what I was cautioning since she was still bald.

I do not want our children to equate your visits with gifts.

Though I’d rather not bore anyone with a long list of the many things that make my eyes bleed every time I pass them, I do believe an example might be in order, as I wouldn’t want anyone to think I’m an ungrateful son who doesn’t appreciate the kindly gifts his generous mother brings each week.

I’d like to highlight two examples of “other people’s garbage” which are now part of my decor.

The Dora the Explorer Play Set

You were 45 minutes late the day you knocked on the door with this one! Most of your wonderful gifts come directly from the thrift store, but this one actually came from the side of the road! What’s that?!? you thought, flying by at 40 miles an hour. After making a U-turn to investigate the plastic play set that had been surrendered to the following day’s garbage pickup, you loaded the play set (roughly the size of Rhode Island) into your car and brought it to our house.

This thing is a big behemoth of molded loathing, played with until the edges were sharp and then abandoned. Mia and Max played with it for maybe twenty minutes on two different days. Yet it is a Grammy present which I am therefore not permitted to throw away.

Multiply this times 520.

The Donkey

I would rather have 42,741 Dora the Explorer Play Sets than this one donkey. And though I rarely use the word hate, I HATE this thing with a volcanic intensity.

I almost had a heart attack the day you brought this over. Grinning like a Cheshire, immeasurably pleased with yourself, this heinous Tijuana roadside eyesore has been the daily evil eclipsing my eyesight. It has migrated from room to room, carrying it’s diabolical filthiness everywhere it goes. Though you have been promising to bring the tail over for three years now, I do not want it…

Oh, I didn’t mention that? Yeah, in addition to the matted fur, and undisclosed history, this life-sized donkey (YES – LIFE SIZED!) has a gaping rusty hole where it’s tail should be.

I couldn’t make that up.

We are doing our best to teach our children that less is more, trying to teach them that time is more important than material goods.

Yet every visit undermines our teaching.

I do understand that you’re just trying to be “Grammy.” I get and accept that, but by making every visit special in this way, none of them truly are.

I know it feels good for you to buy things. Finding something at a thrift store and adding it to your endless inventory of priceless finds feeds something inside you. But it makes something inside me hungry.

Perhaps if I piled all the bunkum together in a single mountain you might listen, but I decided to write this letter instead. Hopefully, reading it at your favorite site will help to make my dream come true!

Thanks, Ma. I love ya!

P.S. Of course I would never publish this without showing it to my mom first. Not only has she read it, I’ll be posting her reply tomorrow.

No, Thanksgiving is about looking your present day in the eye with a smile and saying thank you for the many wonderful things you already have.

This year I am thankful for many things, but I will limit my list to the following five.

1) I am thankful for my dreams. Yes, my muse is quite demanding and has me often running all over the place, wandering from children’s rhymes to horror and back, usually wearing a grin so wide I’ve considered traveling with a drool bucket. Yet having too many dreams, I am certain, is better than having too few or none at all. My dreams are fuel for my passion and my passion petrol for my future. I am grateful I can close my eyes and dream of all that will one day be any time I wish.

2) I am thankful for my family. Without my family as anchor, my most recent dreams would have never set sail. Cindy is my best friend, and though I know y’all are probably tired of reading about it, it’s true. She placed the pen in my hand and told me it was not only okay to dream, but that I deserved to stoke my desires. My children are so remarkable that I sometimes shudder when I ponder them too long; like dwelling on the scope of the universe or the concept of infinity. I’ve seen my sister more in the last few months than I have in the last couple of years and each moment has been wonderful. My mom comes over for dinner once a week, and though she annoys me without limits, I love her dearly and miss the days when we cannot connect. I don’t see my father nearly as often as I’d like, but he is often in my thoughts as well.

3) I am thankful for my health. Though I was 175 pounds of pure uncut pain and suffering a few weeks back, I am lucky to be as healthy as I am. I’m strong, with enough emotional and physical fitness to make what would have been a difficult year into just another hurdle to jump. In the past I have been guilty of wanting the perfect body, the type that gets a third look because the second wasn’t enough. Yet rarely have I been willing to embark on the difficult, sustained work required to make it happen. It took me until my early thirties to realize that fitness is far more than the definition in my abs. I’m now content with my daily sit-ups and push-ups, running up and down the stairs approximately 1,437 times per day, and keeping away from peanut M&M’s by the bucket. I’ve never felt healthier, even though I’m a tad soft around the tummy more often than I’m not.

4) I am thankful for an audience. Thanks to all of you, and to all the scattered readers across the Internet who read my words and help me to refine my purpose. I enjoy writing under most any circumstance, but it is a unique reward to write for an audience. For all who read my words and enjoy their rhythm, thank you. You make my world a better place and I truly appreciate it.

5) I am thankful for Cindy’s cooking. I think a large part of the reason I didn’t dig on Thanksgiving too much as a kid was simply that the menu did little for me. I know, I know I must be some kind of Un-American heathen helmet wearing buffoon to not like the Thanksgiving menu. It is possible I would like turkey a lot more if I wasn’t haunted by the memory of my mother buying a 97lb bird every year, even when it was just the four of us, because any turkey that weighed less than a kindergartner was “mostly carcass.” Cranberry sauce and yams = yucky. Mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie delicious. Everything else, okay. What’s my vice? Pasta, and lots of it. Every year Cindy makes three different kinds. See #3.

It would be nice if we stepped outside ourselves more often and acknowledged those things we are most grateful for with every meal, but the truth is that would mute much of the impact. I’m glad there is a designated time of year when we can pass appreciation around the table and nod our heads in gratitude.

This year, I am grateful for Thanksgiving.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

Writer Dad