The Best Wrap Session Ever

I've been doing some volunteer work in December that is not "work" at all. I wrap presents for one night for D.C. Candlelighters Childhood Cancer Foundation, an amazing Washington, D.C. metropolitan area support group for families who currently have or recently had children with cancer, or have been touched by cancer in some way.

I say this is not work because I love, love, love to wrap presents. I beg my friends to let me wrap their gifts. I have a ribbon habit that is hard to keep under control, I buy wrapping paper when I have too much already, and I am a firm believer that a beautifully wrapped package makes a birthday or anniversary exponentially better. If there were a 12-step program for obsessive wrapping, I would be standing up in front of the group telling how I backslid - again - because I couldn't pass up a Costco deal on an industrial-sized spool of holiday trimming.

So when a pal asked me a few years ago if I wanted to wrap for the Candlelighters, I said "yes" before she finished her question. And it's my favorite thing to do before the holidays, because in the rush of getting my home ready, making holiday plans with friends I don't see often, and shipping my own gifts off to family in California and Arizona, it makes me stop and appreciate the lives of people who are facing fears and medical issues most of us can only imagine.

D.C. Candlelighters creates many warm and wonderful moments for the families they help - throughout the year, they do such good deeds as creating new patient care bags, providing age-appropriate books about cancer, and sponsoring family "meet and greets." For the Gift Wrapping Party, the organization makes it a very special night - parents bring their gifts to be wrapped and then they gather for dinner, fresh-baked cookies and a relaxing massage or reiki treatment, while I and a few other elves cut and tape and attach bows and gift cards to their presents. It's one night out that relieves a little stress and removes a task from a long to-do list for parents who are burdened with worry about their kids, both the sick and healthy ones. It's one night that I, too, am just as grateful for D.C. Candlelighters, because they honor me by sharing the exceptional stories of these brave moms and dads, and allowing me to make their holiday season just a little bit easier. And that's a gift that doesn't need a bow to be beautiful.

Can I Call You Mom?

There are few things that break my heart - in a good way - like a crystallized moment with a child I love. I am an aunt to five great kids - three over 18 and two under 10 years. Recently, my 6-year-old niece "J" and her 9-year-old brother were visiting, and I got them all to myself for a weekend. We spent Saturday at my pool, and all around us, children were yelling for their moms to get them a towel, to come in the water, to throw them a toy. J swam over, wrapped her little self around me, cupped her hands to my ear and whispered "Can I call you Mom just while we're at the pool?" Oh, geez. What a rush. (I told her it might hurt her mother's feelings if she called me Mom, but I sure would love to have a little girl like her.) Later, driving to a store with the kids in the back seat, buoyed by the earlier "Mom-ent," I'm listening to the Jersey Boys' "Oh What a Night," and rocking out as only someone with my hidden talent is able to. The kids are having a blast, I can tell - they're laughing up a storm together. Then I glance into the rear-view mirror and see J making fun of me with her brother. And in that instant, I really did feel like someone's mom.

Are You Still Writing It?

I don't know why I stopped writing my blog last fall - I think the holidays intervened, or I used up all my words with my daily business writing, or some blog-interrupting thing happened at some critical blog juncture and that stopped the blog train. Yeah, that's it - that last thing.

So when a friend sent a note today and said, "Are you still writing it?," I didn't want to say no, because in my mind, I still AM writing it - I just haven't crafted anything in months. But it's all up here, my friends (I'm pointing to my creative instrument, that pocket of gears and thoughts and brilliance that resides at the top of my noggin, and because I just got a new 'do last Saturday and my hair is all perfect and shiny and soft, I took the opportunity of my hand being close to my head to give it a swipe and think, again, how much I love this haircut). I know, I lost you at "noggin."

Anyhoo, I'm back. Without fanfare, and like a friend walking right into your kitchen to visit because I've done it before and I think I'll be welcome back. Or I hope I will. And if not, remember that you're the one who left the door open.