If life were vacation, it would go something like this . . .

During the year, when I'm at work, I like to moan and groan about how busy I am. Life would be very different, I say, if only I had more spare time.

Well, I'm on vacation this week. And I think I'm getting a taste of what would happen if I allowed myself to live a totally unstructured life:

1. I would watch a lot of Food Network.

2. I would go to the gym in the morning and then go home and crash into bed.

3. I would eat too much candy.

4. I would play Mario checkers with my son - and lose.

5. I would have long conversations with the dog, who would start to look slightly bored.

6. I would drink many different types of coffee.

7. I would hang out at the library with all the other cool people.

8. I would  talk a lot about how the house was really messy and how I should clean it up. And then I would watch Food Network.

9. I would write.

10. I wouldn't have any excuses not to do all the stuff I've been putting off ... and I'd watch more Food Network.

Injury causes Christmas slowdown - but it's not all bad

It's Christmas Eve, and I'm barely moving. Oh, it's not fatigue, although like most everyone else I know, I'm pretty beat.

I'm injured. I have no idea how it happened, but somehow I managed to pull, stretch or somehow mangle the band of muscles that surrounds the chest and upper back. I woke up the other day, somewhat alarmed at feeling pain in my chest, but soon realized that I could barely take a deep breath without my muscles screaming.

It's  frustrating, annoying - I feel like I've been in a fight. I've been walking in slow motion for the last few days, trying to avoid quick movements and sudden turns.

But I can honestly say I've found the silver lining that surrounds this cloud. I've had to slow down - I've had no choice but to step back from the holiday rush. To my surprise - and guilt - I've found this makes my children really happy. Oh, not the injury, of course -but the accessibility.

We've read Christmas books. We watched Christmas movies. My son showed off the videos he's been making; my daughter demonstrated all the airplanes she's created in her problem-solving class.

I'll likely be moving a little slower through Christmas. But maybe I was moving too fast to begin with.

Real Christmas magic and miracles come from families

I've been pretty cranky at work lately. Oh, it's nothing really, just lots of tension in the office - tight deadlines, lots of projects, fraying tempers.

The gray skies, bumper-to-bumper traffic and constant drizzling rain haven't been helping my mood much, either. But when I walk in the door of my house, that all changes. No, I don't have a fancy house - not at all. But I'll come in, crabby and bedraggled, and my husband will greet me like a princess; he'll have dinner already started and the dog walked and fed, to boot.

My kids will rush over to show me their school projects, not even noticing I look like something the cat dragged in. They'll chatter excitedly with each other and giggle and wrestle while I peel off my purse and my boots and my bookbag, and every time they laugh I'll feel my mood lighten.

By the time I walk upstairs to change my clothes I feel like an entirely different person.

I just finished a little Christmas book of short stories recently. It's called Magic, Miracles & Mistletoe. I started it on a whim, deciding for no good reason to start a project about holiday magic. The dedication was the last and easiest sentence I wrote:

"This novella is dedicated to my family: Without them, there'd be no magic at all."

Birthday party amid holiday rush takes premier planning skills

I have a friend who is a schoolteacher, and she carefully planned out her conception so her kids were born in the spring.

I've never been that much of a planner. That's why my husband and I are putting together a birthday party right after Thanksgiving and smack dab in the midst of the holiday rush.

Our little boy is turning 9. Wow! That doesn't sound very little anymore, does it? Ok ... I'll deal with that later. Right now, we're trying to order a cake, plan a party and find gifts - unavailable in stores, naturally - all while handling the usual holiday mayhem.

"What do you want this year?" I asked my boy, halfway hoping he'd say he was forfeiting his gifts and sending money to Hong Kong or someplace like those kids I see occasionally on the news. No such luck.

"A Wario plushie," he replied. "And a green Angry Bird."

Um, ok. Wario, I knew was a character from the Mario games. And Angry Birds, heck, that should be easy, right??  WRONG. The GREEN angry bird is so elusive I'm pretty sure it's only sold in some Angry Birds store in Hong Kong.

This is starting to remind me of the time my daughter wanted to be Lavagirl from "Sharkboy and Lavagirl" for Halloween and I had to come up with a costume. Not good.

But we're trying. I'm calling parents to make sure families will be in town on the weekend, ordering a cake from the bakery girl who hasn't heard of Mario and, oh yes, buying Christmas gifts on the side.

I should have planned ahead. Way ahead. Soooo ... you wouldn't happen to know the area code for Hong Kong, would you?

Maybe at Christmas, everyone wants a happy ending

I have a confession to make: I'm addicted to the Hallmark Channel.

Oh, not all the time. In fact, the channel has been available to me all year and I didn't even know it. But something happens to me around Christmas. I get ... softer. Sappier, even. I want cute stories. I want happy endings. I want everything tied up with a bow and a smile in 90 minutes.

It's so out of character, it's alarming.

"WHAT are you watching?" my husband said as he peered in on me curiously the other day.

"Trading Christmas," I said promptly. "It's a really cute story about this widow who trades houses with  . . ." He hurried down the hall. "No, that's fine," he called back. "I was just wondering."

But it didn't start with Trading Christmas, which is also a very fun book by Debbie Macomber. First was Mrs. Miracle. Then there was Call Me Mrs. Miracle. Both of those, coincidentally, are also books by Macomber. I'm betting she loves the Hallmark Channel, too. But it doesn't stop there. There's Holiday Engagement and Mistletoe Over Manhattan and Lucky Christmas and, well, you get the idea. It's Hallmark's Countdown to Christmas.

The movies are sweet, charming, formulaic. The set-up, the situation, the glitch and the solution. Normally, that would make me crazy. Where are the plot twists? The car chases? The murder, mayhem and mystery?

But not these days.  I'm settling in with them with my blanket and my cinnamon tea and I'm perfectly content.  Maybe, around Christmas, everybody wants a happy ending

A few minutes of mom support can change everything

I made it to the elementary school this morning in the nick of time, bedraggled and out of breath. It wasn't even 8:30, and I had already made three breakfasts, walked the dog, found lost homework, conducted a mock spelling test, located misplaced socks, cleaned up cat barf and packed three lunches.

Now it was time to go to work. You know, real work. The kind where you collect a paycheck.

I felt beat.

A pretty blonde woman sidled up next to me, also dressed in office clothes. "You know, I have to wonder," she said as she trotted past, "Does this ever get easier?" We both broke out in laughter.

And I realized, suddenly, that my morning wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Moms - and dads - all over the world were doing the exact same thing, every day.

"I hope so," I replied. "I feel like I'm barely making it as it is."

She stopped and turned toward me.

"Really?" she said.  I nodded.

"That makes me feel SO much better," she continued. " I feel like I'm the only one who's saying, 'Hurry, hurry, hurry - it's time to get in the car.'"

I shook my head. "No way," I told her. "Half the time, it's time to go, and my son has wandered back to his room and is playing with his Angry Birds."

We both laughed again and parted ways.

I felt immeasurably better. Our little exchange only took about two minutes, but it's amazing what a little mom support can do.

8-year-old filmmaker finds inspiration from the toy chest

I watched a very special episode of American Idol the other night. Mickey Mouse was the host. Raggedy Ann was a pretty awful contestant. And Woody from Toy Story sang the theme from the popular show "Victorious," besting competitor Barney by a mere boot length, as noted by Judge Mario.

It was put together by my young son, who has a new hobby - raiding our expansive, little-used toy chest in the basement for characters, then making up skits and filming them on our new video camera. I think that, so far, he has put together at least 30 shows.

Kermit battled Mario and Luigi to a truce, while Winnie the Pooh and Arthur are often  leaders of an evil lair. Ken has lost his suitor status, and now often plays a villain chasing the beleaguered Mario. And at one point, a few oranges with faces drawn on them became bad guys, as well. (Those came from the kitchen, incidentally, not the basement).

It's hilarious. I have to remember when to laugh, and when not to laugh, though, because even though I think that drawing faces on fruit and making them villains is funny, the filmmaker often does not. Sometimes, in fact, if my prying is too intrusive, my young Spielberg will shut the door to his room, only divulging his masterpiece when it's complete.

He wants his own YouTube account - he watches videos other kids have out, and he wants his uploaded, too.  But I'm hesitant to go that route - I've seen the cruel comments other videos get. So for now, he'll just have to settle for a toy chest brimming with heroes and villains and a devoted family audience.