#i got 16 posts flagged all at once literally a day after i blocked her

[saetoru]

i honestly think its so funny how people on here will find a way to blame everything on you and then you will bounce back and sobsob about something 20 minutes later 😭 i love you for that lollll

"SOBSOB ABOUT SOMETHING" SJDHF THAT MADE ME GIGGLE

i think i was kind enough not to raise issues over a small banner that says "minors do not interact" even tho it was EXACTLY the same as mine but WTV. i was rather nice to just let her have them and go about her business and just block her so she couldn't copy any other layouts. im now realizing i should've just been an asshole and demanded she change them and leave my layouts alone

this is what i get for letting things slide :/

[yourholidaymom]

Your Holiday Mom: Robbi

Hello Friend –

Welcome to our crazy and comfy home. Don’t mind Iggy, she just barks really loud whenever anyone comes in but is a total wimp. See? She’s already given up and is back to sitting in the most comfortable chair in the house. And please don’t step on the cat, he is old and blind and might accidentally poop on you. Ha ha, just kidding, he totally only poops on the stairs on his way to the litter box that he doesn’t use. Also, don’t mind the kids – Alden will want to show you her rope climbing skills, Kato will become suddenly shy (though he can be easily coaxed out of his shell with inquiries about planes or rockets) and August will toddle up and hug you and probably demand your iPad or phone (don’t do it). In our small town, the kids all call grown-ups “Aunt” and “Uncle” – so just by being introduced you’ve already become a part of our family. We’re so happy to have you.

Perhaps this holiday season is hard for you, perhaps it is lonely. Perhaps you have struggled with acceptance from your own friends and family, and perhaps you have even struggled with yourself for identifying as LGBTQ. And for that I am truly, truly sorry. I hope that you can find some respite in our home and at our table, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be a lot of chaos involved too.

One of the unspoken treasures of true acceptance is when you aren’t treated differently from anyone else, and so I will demand that you not stand on the table (August is the most frequent offender), that you finish your dinner before starting your dessert (actually, no one ever follows that rule, including me), and that if you happen to accidentally kick or punch someone while wrestling, you have to give hugs and kisses and say you’re sorry. Them’s the rules. If only that last one could be applied to everyone— both literally and metaphorically. If anyone is ever hurt, we need to extend our hands and try to help them heal. And so I hope you’ll metaphorically take my extended hand, friend.

Please have a seat and warm up with a cup of tea while I scurry around the kitchen doing the final touches on our meal. Ha ha, who am I kidding? I’ll be sitting hanging out with you while Matthew does all the kitchen stuff. We all know I’m a horrible cook. You and I can chat about this and that, about the latest things that you’re up to, about the book you just read that I got started but never finished (I’m never going to finish it, so please just tell me how it ends). I’ll ask how you’re doing, but you probably won’t tell me directly because Alden and Kato are fighting over the trampoline and everything’s a bit distracting. Matthew will interrupt and ask me to dress the salad (he always puts way too much dressing on) and I will get up and give your shoulder a squeeze on my way to the kitchen. Matthew will offer you some more tea and we’ll swap – he’ll probably ask all the same questions and you’ll have to repeat yourself a lot and I’ll apologize loudly from the kitchen. You are kind not to seem to mind.

And now Kato has asked you to please please please play freeze tag, and you are so good to oblige. I’m so sorry that he’s no longer wearing his pants.

I see that you are concerned when the three kids collide, but no harm done – the frenzy of the chase is enough to get them back up and running, though August points emphatically at his head and demands a kiss from you before he rejoins the fray. Thanks for doing that.

I have to interrupt the freeze tag so we can all eat dinner. We settle down at the table and say a quick “itadakimasu” – the Japanese version of grace, or more like “bon appetit,” I grew up saying it (did you know my mom was japanese, and awesome, by the way? She would have LOVED you – she was an extraordinarily quick and accurate judge of character). Itadakimasu literally means “I humbly receive” and that’s how I feel about having you here with us on this special day, thrown into the soup with us, as it were, and gracefully weathering the storm of my family.

The kids are occupied with their food, so we can talk some more. We’re excited to hear about your latest plans,  and I think you should just do it. Do it! Matthew’s a little more cautious, but not un-optimistic. He offers some sage advice while I wink and nod and smile at you from behind his back to convince you I’m right, and you pretend like I’m not acting like a weirdo. Matthew totally knows I’m doing it, so he looks you right in the eyes and says, “You gotta do what feels right to you.”  He’s all right, that one.

We barely have time to finish our meal before the kids are demanding another game of freeze tag. I insist you don’t have to, but you insist you do. They are so ecstatic that they forget to ask for dessert (seeing how crazy they are now, you definitely don’t want to see them after brownies and ice cream). You just scored 100 points with me and Matthew. Well done, friend, well done.

Once you’ve run them around the room a few dozen times, they start to flag and ask for a story before bed. (200 points!) You settle down on the couch (since Iggy’s still occupying the recliner) and the kids pile on your lap, each one with a book. By the time you get to the third book, August has fallen asleep and Kato’s eyes are drooping. (300 points!) You ask if you should keep reading and Alden says, “I’m a night owl. I’m not ever going to sleep.” After book #3, Kato is out. (1000 points!)

Time for dessert. Alden gets a tiny portion but doesn’t finish, because she suddenly decides she wants to do some drawing at her desk by the window. I eat the rest of her brownie. You and Matthew and I finally get to sit down and talk like adults – to the gentle soundtrack of snores from August and jingles from Iggy’s collar as she rearranges herself in the recliner. We laugh, we tell stories, and I don’t really remember what all we talk about, but I feel such a fondness for you that I feel in my heart that we are simpatico. It’s a warm fuzzy feeling because frankly I don’t feel simpatico with just anyone. There’s something special about you.

It’s getting late and you see that Matthew has suddenly gotten tired. He does that, all of a sudden. I could rattle on for a long time (Alden isn’t the only night owl in the house) but it’s clear he needs to go to bed. We pack up a little tupperware for you (don’t worry, we’ll get it back from you next time) while you put on your coat. We walk you down the stairs and are saying good-bye when Alden comes trundling down with a paper in her hand. “Don’t forget your card!” she says, “I made it for you.” You kneel down to take it from her, and she points out all of the pieces of the picture. “Here I am. I’m wearing a crown. This is Kato and this is August. August is so small because he’s just a toddler. Here’s Papa – he’s wearing fuzzy pants because it’s so cold outside. And here’s Mama. She has a crown on too, because she’s the queen. And here you are. I drew you in pink because pink is my favorite color. We’re playing freeze tag next to the Christmas tree.” You nod patiently and say some nice admiring things about her drawing skills. Then she takes it back from you and says, “And see? When you fold it up like a card, on the back it says, ‘I love you. Love, Alden.’ That’s because I love you.” She hands it back to you and says “Hug and a kiss!” and you kindly oblige, and she scampers back up the stairs.

Our evening is over and Matthew gives you a big hug. “Good to see you, friend.” Then it’s my turn, and I give you a big hug and an extra squeeze. I start to apologize for the chaos and you stop me. “I had a nice time,” you say. And I look in your eyes and say, “Me, too.” You put Alden’s card in your pocket and you’re out the door. We watch you as you head down the block, and I call out, “Until next time!” and you turn and smile and wave.

Happy holidays, Friend. We’re so glad to have you.

Much love,

Robbi

** This year we are reprising your favorite letters. The original post date of this letter was Dec 16, 2011.

Your Holiday Mom: Robbi was originally published on Your Holiday Mom

[starswallowingsea]

Growing Up Trans and AlloAro

Or whatever the hell this essay turned out to be. Under the cut because this got long (like 1340 words long). 

---

When I was younger, I never quite fit with the word “girl,” but I thought it was just because I didn’t like playing with dolls like other girls my age. I spent my first two years of school playing spies on the playground and sticking my tongue to frozen poles (and yes, it is painful but I somehow managed to not get in trouble for it). 

I would sit in our office--soon to be my baby brother’s room--and build towers out of his foam blocks and make stories for people that lived in cities I built on SimCity on our old desktop. Even with my girl friends, I would get confused about why they were talking about liking boys and getting crushes. 

I remember sitting in my friend’s basement during a freezing winter in North Dakota and she was shocked when I told her I had never seen Drake and Josh before and then grabbing her Magic 8ball and asking it if she would fall in love with Drake. 

I moved to Wisconsin a year later and had a hard time making friends. I thought we would just move again so I only talked with a handful of people in our already small school district. We would play dolls and teacher and I would get bored most days, wanting to play with the boys and make up stories. 

It was around the time that he left that I knew I was different from the other kids. They were starting to date each other as early as 3rd grade. We would tease our friends about who they were dating but I never understood why they dated in the first place. For the first few years, I would deflect questions about crushes by saying I still liked someone from my old school, but that only worked for so long. 

In 8th grade I started questioning my sexuality for the first time. I wasn’t really sure who I liked, because I didn’t really like anyone at that point. There was one kid I thought was attractive and always used him as my scapegoat when asked about crushes so nobody would know. I did like him, but it felt different than I knew my cishet peers thought about their crushes, just based on the way they talked about them. I thought I was asexual, because the internet in 2014 didn’t like to talk about aromanticism, much less than it does now anyway. 

So I joined tumblr in like, 2015, the summer between 8th grade and freshman year of high school and posted about asexuality, being nonbinary, toontown rewritten, all the stuff that 14-15yos are into. For a while I identified as heteroromantic asexual, and then nonbinary asexual quoiromantic, and then aromantic asexual and nonbinary? Or maybe I was really cis? 

And it went like that, back and forth between a few labels. I never felt like I could tell anybody, because I went to a small school and heard all the comments people made about the LGBTQ community and what my parents said about trans people and the messages preached at church. 

When I was about 16, I realized I wasn’t ace at all. I thought maybe I was a nonbinary aro lesbian, or maybe bisexual. Tumblr in 2016/17 was very against having attraction to men at all in the circles I found myself in and I pushed those feelings down so I wouldn’t make people uncomfortable. I forced myself to be attracted to women when I really wasn’t at all. Every other post about bisexuality was talking about how beautiful women were and how disgusting men were. I never felt comfortable talking about my attraction to men in public, or even in private. I felt even more uncomfortable talking about maybe being bisexual and aromantic. At this point, alloaros were practically unheard of and there weren’t a ton of trans aces, so finding someone to talk to about my identity was hard, to say the least. I just simply was alloaro, but that word didn’t exist yet and I couldn’t find anyone else who was aromantic and not asexual. 

That’s how I lived for another 2 years, as a nonbinary aro lesbian (or maybe bisexual). This was around the same time as I got involved in truscum/tucute discourse. I’ve always been minimally dysphoric about my body and got attacked for it by truscum and it would take me another 2 years to realize that I was actually a trans man. Because I started associating trans men with truscum and I didn’t want to be like them because they were always the nastiest people I had ever come across (I’ve obviously since outgrown this view point and am comfortable identifying as a man now). 

Another two years later and I’m outside a Thiesen’s with my parents picking up stuff for my graduation party that was happening later. My feet hit the pavement and I get a thought that said “maybe I’m a guy.” I stopped for a second and kept walking in, thinking about that, trying out he/him pronouns with myself and decided before we checked out that I was a trans guy. 

It took a while to get used to thinking about myself that way and I still use they/them pronouns. A few days after solidifying my gender identity, I realized I was aro and bisexual (or maybe gay). Labeling my sexuality came much easier, realizing I was a man. I’m still aromantic and that’s one thing that’s been pretty constant in my life. I never really got crushes in the typical way and I still don’t, even though you all see me reblogging yearning posts. I think that’s a byproduct of wanting to touch people in non-romantic and non-sexual ways in our society where touches have a lot of baggage with them. 

I came out as bisexual and aromantic to my roommates in September. It came up in casual conversation and I felt comfortable enough to tell them, since they were all from the city and city-folk tend to be more accepting of queer identities (not to rag on rural folk, since I am one, but rural Wisconsin is not the place you want to grow up trans and queer). One of them came out as straight in October on coming out day and I forced myself back into the closet on coming out as trans. We had a falling out with her earlier this semester and she moved out. 

Literally the night she moved out, I came out to the other two roommates as trans and they took it very well! They call me by my preferred name when we’re around people I’m out to and they even bought me a trans flag that we have hanging in the common room of our dorm (and at least one person has told me they say “trans rights!” whenever they pass by as soon as they found out it was mine). I’m still working on being socially out at college and need to call gender inclusive housing at some point, but I keep putting that off. 

And recently I’ve decided I’m trans, aro, and queer. I still use the word bisexual, but really thinking about what genders I’m attracted to is super complicated and the word bisexual doesn’t convey that to most people. And queer just fits better some days. 

I don’t really have a tl;dr for this, but if I had to pick something from this to hammer home, it would be that it’s okay to change labels and question your identity. It’s okay to change labels frequently or once every few years if you feel like they’ve changed! It’s never too late to figure out who you are and there will always be people who will accept you for who you are. 

Also tumblr is the worst place to try and figure out your identity, but sometimes its all people have and I want my blog to be a safe space for people questioning their identities. 

[wsmith215]

Forget his NFL pedigree — Packers’ Jon Runyan Jr. has overcome many obstacles – Green Bay Packers Blog

GREEN BAY, Wis. — Jon Runyan Jr. has been around football since he could lift one of his dad’s first NFL helmets, the one with the Tennessee Titans logo on it, or drape himself with a No. 69 Philadelphia Eagles jersey or sit on his dad’s locker room stool at the old Veterans Stadium.

He always wanted a helmet, jersey and a locker of his own.

His mom and dad, well, that’s a different story.

Jon Sr., a veteran of 14 NFL seasons — one of them a Pro Bowl year and two of them ending at the Super Bowl — never pushed his only son toward the game. Loretta, stressed enough as a football wife, didn’t need to relive it watching her firstborn.

• What can Bucs expect from Tom Brady? • Packers’ Runyan Jr. has overcome many obstacles • From zero-star recruit to Vikings’ top pick • Assessing Patriots’ approach with rookies • How Broncos’ new backfield could work

To them, however, that’s part of what makes their son’s journey to the NFL and to the Green Bay Packers special. Sure, the Runyan name might have opened doors, but Jon Jr. — or Jon Daniel, as Loretta calls him — walked through on his own.

“Him wanting to play football in the first or second grade, I was like, no, no,” Loretta said. “My heart hurt every time I had to go out there and watch him practice, and I would cry. I still get that feeling. Jon Daniel’s my only boy, and he’s my oldest child.”

In so many ways, the 22-year-old selected by the Packers in the sixth round of last month’s NFL draft is both his father’s son — an offensive lineman like his dad, a Michigan man like his dad, a hulking 6-foot-4, 307 pounds like his 6-foot-7, 330-pound dad, dyslexic like his dad — and his own man.

“One thing my high school coach told me was, ‘You’ve just got to be you. Your dad is a completely different person than you, so you don’t have to live up to any of his expectations. Just start your own path and your own goals, and all that stuff that comes with it is just secondary,'” Jon Jr. recalled. “It was a struggle for me in high school, but I chose this road moving onto college, and I’m comfortable with everything I’m doing. He’s cast a big shadow over me, but I’m not trying to live in that shadow my whole life. I’m trying to step out and make an even bigger one.”

Jon Jr. first put on a helmet and pads in grade school.

That lasted only one year.

“He was just too big,” Jon Sr. said. “I always say [in] football you end up in a position by your body type. But when they’re 8, 9 years old, they’re all the same size. Except my kid; he was bigger than everybody else. That first year, the coach said he’s got to cut weight. I’m like, ‘He’s not going to cut weight — have you seen me?'”

From an early age, Jon Runyan Jr. gravitated to the tools of his father’s trade. Courtesy Runyan family

Jon Jr. turned to flag football, and he played everything from quarterback to receiver to defensive back, until eighth grade, when weight limits were lifted and he could put the pads back on.

Loretta, a self-proclaimed “momma bear,” still wasn’t sure football was for him.

“Initially, I kind of pulled him out because he just couldn’t grasp the whole language of the plays,” Loretta said. “He thought he could just get the football, and he could run or he could throw. He has auditory processing disorder, which always worried me because football is like a different language. And he also has Jon’s dyslexia. He had to overcome a lot.

“He begged me to play tackle in the eighth grade. He had been working so hard. I thought he probably needs to start playing tackle. So he played it in the eighth grade. He played three sports in middle school, and he played basketball in the ninth grade. I really wanted him to play basketball because I didn’t like football for him, but he begged me.”

Auditory processing disorder makes it difficult to understand speech. Loretta said preschool teachers first noticed an issue with Jon Jr., but he wasn’t diagnosed until third grade. With APD, dyslexia and being colorblind, Jon Jr. needed extra hours of tutoring, which during the high school season often made for 16-hour days with school, practice and evening sessions with tutors. At Michigan, he earned his undergraduate degree in sociology. Last semester, he began graduate-school classes in real estate development.

“I was that mom who would go to the football coach in eighth grade and explain to him that Jon Daniel’s not dumb,” Loretta said. “If you’re talking to him, you have to make sure he understands and you have to show him. He learns by vision. He has a photographic memory because he’s had to learn other skills to compensate. Teachers would always caution me that something might be too much for him, but he never complained.

“I’ve said to him, ‘If there’s any [charitable] foundation that you ever want to do, I think that’s what you should do because you can inspire people.’ Just the work he’s done — not just football, but academics — and to go through all that.”

While Jon Runyan Sr. roamed Philadelphia as an Eagle, little Jon Daniel got used to an NFL locker room. Courtesy Runyan family

It warmed Loretta’s heart to hear Packers general manager Brian Gutekunst describe Jon Jr. as a “smart” player. And it had to make Jon Sr., once known as one of the NFL’s fiercest competitors, happy to hear Gutekunst describe his son as “tough.”

At Michigan, Jon Jr. started 26 games (25 at left tackle and one at right tackle) and was a two-time recipient of the Hugh H. Rader Memorial Award given to the team’s top offensive lineman — an honor bestowed upon his dad in 1994, making them the only father-son duo to win it. The Packers plan to move Jon Jr. to guard, where they believe his athletic ability is well suited to their zone-blocking scheme.

For now, Jon Jr. is living with his parents and participating in the Packers’ virtual offseason program because of the coronavirus pandemic. But he’s still getting lessons from his dad.

“I’ve just tried to help with the expectations,” Jon Sr. said. “I’ve told him a couple of times, ‘If you’re lucky enough to have an opportunity to contribute your first year, great. Then your second year, you better be battling somebody, really battling somebody for it, because if you’re not making a contribution by the end of your third year, you’re not going to be around.’ That’s what I literally told him after he got picked. It was congratulations, and I know everything you put into it to get this far, but these next two years are going to be as hard as the last 10.”

These days, Jon Sr. works for the NFL as vice president of policy and rules administration, which followed a four-year stint representing New Jersey in the U.S. House of Representatives. That’s where Jon Jr. says his career path most definitely will differ from his father’s — no politics.

Like father, like son: Dad was a Wolverine, so Jon Jr. went the same way and earned the same gridiron honors. Courtesy Runyan family

For Loretta, it has come full circle. She met Jon Sr. during his rookie season in Houston, where she worked as a police officer. She followed him to Tennessee when the Oilers became the Titans, and they settled in the Philadelphia area with Jon Jr. and his two younger sisters, one of whom is headed to Villanova on a basketball scholarship next school year.

Now, Loretta is about to join a different club.

“Guess what?” Loretta said with an excitement in her voice. “When I was an NFL wife, one of my best friends was Donovan McNabb’s wife, and Donovan’s mom was president or something of the NFL mom’s club. She’s invited me to the NFL mom’s club. She and I are good friends. Roxie McNabb and I have always stayed tight over the years and watched each other’s kids, and now I’m like, ‘Can you believe I’m going to be an NFL mom?'”

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[yourholidaymom]

Your Holiday Mom: Robbi

Hello Friend –

Welcome to our crazy and comfy home. Don’t mind Iggy, she just barks really loud whenever anyone comes in but is a total wimp. See? She’s already given up and is back to sitting in the most comfortable chair in the house. And please don’t step on the cat, he is old and blind and might accidentally poop on you. Ha ha, just kidding, he totally only poops on the stairs on his way to the litter box that he doesn’t use. Also, don’t mind the kids – Alden will want to show you her rope climbing skills, Kato will become suddenly shy (though he can be easily coaxed out of his shell with inquiries about planes or rockets) and August will toddle up and hug you and probably demand your iPad or phone (don’t do it). In our small town, the kids all call grown-ups “Aunt” and “Uncle” – so just by being introduced you’ve already become a part of our family. We’re so happy to have you.

Perhaps this holiday season is hard for you, perhaps it is lonely. Perhaps you have struggled with acceptance from your own friends and family, and perhaps you have even struggled with yourself for identifying as LGBTQ. And for that I am truly, truly sorry. I hope that you can find some respite in our home and at our table, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be a lot of chaos involved too.

One of the unspoken treasures of true acceptance is when you aren’t treated differently from anyone else, and so I will demand that you not stand on the table (August is the most frequent offender), that you finish your dinner before starting your dessert (actually, no one ever follows that rule, including me), and that if you happen to accidentally kick or punch someone while wrestling, you have to give hugs and kisses and say you’re sorry. Them’s the rules. If only that last one could be applied to everyone— both literally and metaphorically. If anyone is ever hurt, we need to extend our hands and try to help them heal. And so I hope you’ll metaphorically take my extended hand, friend.

Please have a seat and warm up with a cup of tea while I scurry around the kitchen doing the final touches on our meal. Ha ha, who am I kidding? I’ll be sitting hanging out with you while Matthew does all the kitchen stuff. We all know I’m a horrible cook. You and I can chat about this and that, about the latest things that you’re up to, about the book you just read that I got started but never finished (I’m never going to finish it, so please just tell me how it ends). I’ll ask how you’re doing, but you probably won’t tell me directly because Alden and Kato are fighting over the trampoline and everything’s a bit distracting. Matthew will interrupt and ask me to dress the salad (he always puts way too much dressing on) and I will get up and give your shoulder a squeeze on my way to the kitchen. Matthew will offer you some more tea and we’ll swap – he’ll probably ask all the same questions and you’ll have to repeat yourself a lot and I’ll apologize loudly from the kitchen. You are kind not to seem to mind.

And now Kato has asked you to please please please play freeze tag, and you are so good to oblige. I’m so sorry that he’s no longer wearing his pants.

I see that you are concerned when the three kids collide, but no harm done – the frenzy of the chase is enough to get them back up and running, though August points emphatically at his head and demands a kiss from you before he rejoins the fray. Thanks for doing that.

I have to interrupt the freeze tag so we can all eat dinner. We settle down at the table and say a quick “itadakimasu” – the Japanese version of grace, or more like “bon appetit,” I grew up saying it (did you know my mom was japanese, and awesome, by the way? She would have LOVED you – she was an extraordinarily quick and accurate judge of character). Itadakimasu literally means “I humbly receive” and that’s how I feel about having you here with us on this special day, thrown into the soup with us, as it were, and gracefully weathering the storm of my family.

The kids are occupied with their food, so we can talk some more. We’re excited to hear about your latest plans,  and I think you should just do it. Do it! Matthew’s a little more cautious, but not un-optimistic. He offers some sage advice while I wink and nod and smile at you from behind his back to convince you I’m right, and you pretend like I’m not acting like a weirdo. Matthew totally knows I’m doing it, so he looks you right in the eyes and says, “You gotta do what feels right to you.”  He’s all right, that one.

We barely have time to finish our meal before the kids are demanding another game of freeze tag. I insist you don’t have to, but you insist you do. They are so ecstatic that they forget to ask for dessert (seeing how crazy they are now, you definitely don’t want to see them after brownies and ice cream). You just scored 100 points with me and Matthew. Well done, friend, well done.

Once you’ve run them around the room a few dozen times, they start to flag and ask for a story before bed. (200 points!) You settle down on the couch (since Iggy’s still occupying the recliner) and the kids pile on your lap, each one with a book. By the time you get to the third book, August has fallen asleep and Kato’s eyes are drooping. (300 points!) You ask if you should keep reading and Alden says, “I’m a night owl. I’m not ever going to sleep.” After book #3, Kato is out. (1000 points!)

Time for dessert. Alden gets a tiny portion but doesn’t finish, because she suddenly decides she wants to do some drawing at her desk by the window. I eat the rest of her brownie. You and Matthew and I finally get to sit down and talk like adults – to the gentle soundtrack of snores from August and jingles from Iggy’s collar as she rearranges herself in the recliner. We laugh, we tell stories, and I don’t really remember what all we talk about, but I feel such a fondness for you that I feel in my heart that we are simpatico. It’s a warm fuzzy feeling because frankly I don’t feel simpatico with just anyone. There’s something special about you.

It’s getting late and you see that Matthew has suddenly gotten tired. He does that, all of a sudden. I could rattle on for a long time (Alden isn’t the only night owl in the house) but it’s clear he needs to go to bed. We pack up a little tupperware for you (don’t worry, we’ll get it back from you next time) while you put on your coat. We walk you down the stairs and are saying good-bye when Alden comes trundling down with a paper in her hand. “Don’t forget your card!” she says, “I made it for you.” You kneel down to take it from her, and she points out all of the pieces of the picture. “Here I am. I’m wearing a crown. This is Kato and this is August. August is so small because he’s just a toddler. Here’s Papa – he’s wearing fuzzy pants because it’s so cold outside. And here’s Mama. She has a crown on too, because she’s the queen. And here you are. I drew you in pink because pink is my favorite color. We’re playing freeze tag next to the Christmas tree.” You nod patiently and say some nice admiring things about her drawing skills. Then she takes it back from you and says, “And see? When you fold it up like a card, on the back it says, ‘I love you. Love, Alden.’ That’s because I love you.” She hands it back to you and says “Hug and a kiss!” and you kindly oblige, and she scampers back up the stairs.

Our evening is over and Matthew gives you a big hug. “Good to see you, friend.” Then it’s my turn, and I give you a big hug and an extra squeeze. I start to apologize for the chaos and you stop me. “I had a nice time,” you say. And I look in your eyes and say, “Me, too.” You put Alden’s card in your pocket and you’re out the door. We watch you as you head down the block, and I call out, “Until next time!” and you turn and smile and wave.

Happy holidays, Friend. We’re so glad to have you.

Much love,

Robbi

** This year we are reprising your favorite letters. The original post date of this letter was Dec 16, 2011.

Your Holiday Mom: Robbi was originally published on Your Holiday Mom