He wanted the fire only large enough to last ten minutes. I wanted it to rage.

I spent 2011 in a slow, smoldering state, never able to maintain my flame for long. Reading my friend Emily’s year-end favorite posts list, however, reminded me that I started it raging.

Damn it, this year did not go at all as I had planned. With that longing in mind, I built a fire New Year’s Eve night to light up the bayou. Let it burn. Let it rage. I’ll stand here until the last ember smolders. To hell with control.

• • •

So. The skin cancer. The last time I wrote about it was July, shortly after two full excisions that resulted in suspicion that the melanoma had “skipped” across my back to a second location. July. I am shaking my head because that’s just about when everything truly did begin slipping from my controlling grasp. No wonder I haven’t brought it up since then.

We found an oncologist. She was dissatisfied with the pathology reports and had samples from both the first and second excisions sent to one pathologist to determine the exact margins between the last sign of melanoma and the edge of the sample.

In the meantime, my dermatologist determined three new sites he wanted biopsied. One on my arm, two more on my back.

Pathology results came back and the margins were not clear for my original melanoma. My oncologist requested that I immediately have the melanoma site in the middle of my back re-excised and I promptly began procrastinating.

This lasted for months.

I took on more work. Brilliant work. Dazzling, distracting fuel for my fire.

Together with Alli Worthington, we re-imagined a new format for the BlissDom conference in Nashville.

I began consulting under contract for a PR firm, traveling to New York, creating intricate databases of bloggers and social media projects.

I organized and co-hosted The 5th Annual People’s Party at BlogHer in San Diego. I accepted a long-term campaign with Hallmark.

I signed on as a first-wave writer at Babble Voices, a new venture under Catherine Connors at Babble.com, a major parenting site which would shortly thereafter be acquired by Disney. And all the while leaned heavily on my Editorial Director at Story Bleed Magazine to keep our momentum and direction sound.

May – July marked the beginning of an ambitious period of creative spark honed to distract from what would become a suffocating crush of reality come October. Although I do not believe that my quality of work diminished (never phone it in. never.), the timeliness of my work surely faltered and I found my fire consistently dampered. My work pace slowed to a flinching crawl under the threatening shadow of the sun.

I lost control.

Fear of this cancer paralyzed me. I couldn’t talk about it, I couldn’t work quickly under the weight of it, and I couldn’t make myself do anything to resolve my fears. I constantly needed to make an appointment for surgery and I constantly had a reason to put it off. I held roughly six jobs simultaneously, some days needing to answer to all six at once. There was never a moment when no one needed something from me.

It was so easy to be too busy. And I refused to relent.

• • •

I was sitting in a hotel room in New York City with my agent, Deb Rox, when we heard a news report mention as an aside that Steve Jobs regretted putting off his cancer treatment. I was suffering a particularly potent bout of procrastination paralysis at the time, trying to juggle four responsibilities at once that very evening. I didn’t even own an iPhone.

Who knows why some things crack our shell and others don’t. However slightly.

A month later, I was standing in the Connecticut kitchen of Barbara Jones, receiving a verbal kick in the right direction from her and Alli, the night before a company meeting for BlissDom. They were complaining about both my work pace and my cancer procrastination all in the same breath. That’s always fun.

And my shell splintered.

• • •

I have stitches in my right arm. Stitches lace across the middle of my back in the shape of what can only be described as a Star Trek communicator device. Stitches mar my skin in two other places across my lower back, all spread out nicely to ensure I can’t lean back at any comfortable angle ever.

The pathology results were smeared in red ink: ALL CLEAR.

• • •

I have so much to do this year. So much to write. I can’t let anything stop me from writing this time.

I need to read more.

It’s cold enough outside for a fire. I need the fire to rage. I know just how to build it.

• • •

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Jack Stinkyfeet. That’s the name our kids gave our Elf On The Shelf two years ago, when the boys were five and three.

I wanted something ironic. I remember recommending something like “Jose Heffernan.” Something, you know, believable for when the kids got older and grew skeptical of the legend.

If you aren’t familiar with it, an Elf On The Shelf is a boxed set that includes a story book (sharing the background myth) and a very retro little dude doll with flexible arms and legs, a soft body, and a head straight from the 1950’s.

Your Elf is one of Santa’s elves and arrives some time before Christmas. For us, he comes the morning after we set up our Christmas tree, just as we are in the highest of spirits. His job is to observe the kids in your cozy home during the day, then fly off to Santa at night and report on all naughty and nice behavior.

You are not allowed to touch your Elf or he’ll lose his magic.

Every morning, when you wake up, your Elf will be poised for sly viewing in a new location. Finding our Jack Stinkyfeet is the very first thing our kids do when they wake up in the morning (you better believe it’s a contest) and absolutely begins every day before Christmas on a high, hopeful note.

Wonder what Jack told Santa about us last night… Did you hear him come in this morning?… Ooh, that is a really good spot to see everything today…

Jack is the one that takes our wish list letters to Santa. He all kinds of rocks. You can pick up your very own Elf On the Shelf in Hallmark stores, in fact. Seriously, do it. I knew about him for years before I bought one and I’m endlessly glad that I did. When you are in the store grabbing cards and ornaments, grab him. Make sure you don’t let your kids touch him or ideally even see him coming out of the box.

Magic, people. Magic, I’m telling you. Every day after Thanksgiving and leading up to Christmas is filled with magic in our house. Every morning starts with marveling at Jack Stinkyfeet’s magic and is sustained with wonder at Santa’s.

We are mindful of being good and doing good deeds. It’s not enough for Jack to just report that we didn’t fight. It’s much better for him to have extra special acts of kindness to report.

Christmas morning is always resplendent. Since Santa and his elves make all of the toys in their workshop, nothing is wrapped but rather displayed as though we stumbled in just as the elves were in mid-play. You know they just couldn’t help themselves. Action figures are poised to strike or soar. Dolls are in mid-party. Every item glimmers under the lights of the tree as though it were moving only moments before.

Our holidays are wondrous. We don’t need a lot of holiday survival tips. We survive for the holidays. We don’t take a moment for granted. We revel in being together. Our holidays are wrapped in magic, glittering and warm. We believe in every moment.

With my most sincere appreciation and gratitude,  thank you for joining me to celebrate Hallmark’s Life Is A Special Occasion campaign these last six months. Thank you to Hallmark for sponsoring Velveteen Mind with such generous storytelling challenges. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I have. I know these have been my family’s favorite posts, so far.

Why did I choose to partner with Hallmark? I grew up in a small, rural town and the nearest store I was allowed to walk to alone was a Hallmark. Between ages 8-10, I spent hours there, reading cards, playing with fancy pens, and learning. It was at a Hallmark store that I learned how to express gratitude, how to meet adversity with sympathy and sometimes humor, and how to extend the hand of friendship for no reason other than just because I’m thinking of you.

Maybe I’ll tell you more of that story sometime. For now, know that Hallmark helped shape the writer I am today. Do you want to partner with brands as a blogger? Find partnerships that resonate. Find partnerships that allow you to tell your story and that seamlessly integrate into that story naturally.

Be sure to visit Hallmark during the holidays, even if just to wander around a bit; sign up for their newsletter for special offers and discounts just in time for magical surprises of your own!
Click through now and they’ll know I sent you.

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How did I not notice that the kids are off an entire week for Thanksgiving vacation? How did I not notice this until last Friday?!

We were packing backpacks, on our way out the door for school Friday morning, when I double checked Grey's homework folder and noticed that "THANKSGIVING BREAK" stretched out across every single block of Thanksgiving week. I hollered for the boys and demanded to know if they knew about this extended vacation business. Their perplexed faces revealed that they both didn't know about the break and couldn't fathom why their mother appeared to be either furious or elated.

Keeping everyone on their toes, that's my expertise. 

I was elated. I was just short of dancing. On me, those two things must look just short of crazy, which I just short of love. In the car, on the way to school, I caught Grey privately smiling to himself as he looked out the window. Pressing him, he said, "I love to see you this excited. You are really happy."

I adore Thanksgiving. I am heart-bursting happy at the chance to spend so much time with the kids. The fact that I hadn't noticed we were off for a long break is a testament to how busy I've been. I look forward to Thanksgiving as possibly my favorite holiday. All the family and joy without all the stress and hubbub of gifts. Adore.

My own little family's personal traditions start the day after Thanksgiving. Come rain or shine, we bundle up the kids and hit a Christmas tree lot. That night, we are hearts afire.

Our first Christmas season in this house, when Quinn was a toddler and Grey was tiny, we bought a live tree on a whim during an absolute thunderstorm. With not a single ornament to our name, so recently after Hurricane Katrina, we ran into a Wal-Mart and bought whatever was in front of us. 

Soaking wet, chilled to the bone, we were insanely happy. We raced home, scooted into the house to dry off, and then made a choice that would set the tone of our holidays forever: We put on National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

We blared the opening song, danced around like goofballs with our baby boys, and sang, "It's that time! Christmas time is here! Everybody knows there's not a better time of year. Hear that sleigh! Santa's on his way! Hip hip hooray it's Christmas Vacation!"

Full of Thanksgiving gratitude and love, we barrel straight into the holiday spirit, armed with all things twinkling before December even finds her way through the lingering humidity.

And I hate decorating for holidays. So this amount of cheer is saying something. Thanksgiving has a special effect on me.

Clark: We're kicking off our fun old fashion family Christmas by heading out into the country in the old front-wheel drive sleigh to embrace the frosty majesty of the winter landscape and select that most important of Christmas symbols. 
Audrey: We're not coming all the way out here just to get one of those stupid ties with Santa Clauses on it are we? 
Clark: No, I have one of those at home. 

Thanksgiving hasn't changed much for me since becoming a mom. Even the National Lampoon angle. My parents live three minutes away and it's one of the holidays we celebrate with them; Christmas day falls to my in-laws. Miraculously, I have continued to sidestep the responsibility of contributing food, for the most part. Probably for the best for all involved. Though I do make and bring a mean deviled egg duo, of which everyone is subjected to many a tale of what it took to make this year and tell me again how much you love it!

I force everyone to talk about the deviled eggs so much... I may have just stumbled upon why they don't ask more of me.

We arrive at my parents' house early, ideally in time to watch the Macy's parade. My mom cooks enough to feed two dozen people, never having adjusted to our party dwindling down to just us once we moved down South and away from our extended family. The kitchen is crowded, everyone picking at this bit or that while simultaneously starving to death for how long everything is taking. Music plays throughout the house, fighting for attention over the sound of no fewer than three TVs on in the background, sneakily shifting from the parade to any number of Westerns. 

John Wayne is as much a part of my Thanksgiving as my brother. Thanks, Dad.

Three of the last seven Thanksgivings, I have been pregnant. Two of those babies were announced at Thanksgiving. So maybe I'm responsible for bringing deviled eggs and non-deviled children. That's plenty.

This year, our table will be full. In addition to my parents, my brother, and the five of us Jordans, we are blessed to have my aunt (who always gives me a Celebration Barbie keepsake ornament from Hallmark, this year marking the 12th in the series!), my cousins Lucas and Brandon, and Lucas's new baby and wife join us from up North. Finally, my mom's insistence to never stop cooking for a small army will pay off in more than leftovers.

Iris won't know what to do with herself around the new baby. All she talks about is babies. Plus, their baby is a girl, which means Iris will go into a love coma of excitement and longing.

I just can't wait. 

Gotta a ton of stuff to celebrate (jing-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling-ling)
Now it's getting closer I can't wait (jang-a-lang-a-lang-a-lang-lang)

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• • •

Hallmark is a sponsor of VelveteenMind.com through the end of 2011 as part of their Life Is a Special Occasion campaign.

Shake off your bah humbug and sign up for their newsletter. They'll know I sent you and I think that means one of the craggy bits in my heart will fill with a little more cheer.  Plus you'll get discounts and cheer of your own, just in time for the holidays. ;)

• • •

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