Should I die, this blog will serve as my son's source of virtual mama.

If I live, I won't have to repeat myself.

sigers writes fiction and nags her son in austin, texas. 

I'd like you to make a few phone calls for me, please.

I'd like you to make a few phone calls for me, please.

As a serious champagne drinker, New Year’s Eve is the holiest of holy holidays for your mother. I even abandon my everyday champagne (KORBEL, y'all) for the grandpappy of them all … Veuve. 

The first year, you found this whole thing quite amazing.

A few years later it was all old hat. In fact, you became the kid who would loudly proclaim, LOOK, MOMMY! THERE’S YOUR CHAMPAGNE! in the grocery store.

I’m teaching you to round that out with, LOOK, MOMMY! THERE ARE YOUR GOOD CHRISTIAN MAGAZINES! But you ain’t really buying it. You know what your mother truly holds close to her raisin-shaped heart.

This year, we played a bit on New Year’s Eve and then you went off with your dad to celebrate with him. But not before I got my favorite photo.

And then it was contemplation time.

Your Hey Lady was talking to your G-Aunt (her sister) on the phone this morning, lamenting the flurry of family holiday calls. When they were a kid, the phone would ring all day long with New Year’s greetings from the family. My grandmother and her sisters and brothers had kids and they had kids and they had kids and now those kids aren’t as close.

What I want you to do, Pumpkins, is to call everyone and wish them a Happy New Year. It doesn’t seem like such a big deal anymore with Facebook keeping your mildly up to date on everyone, but I want you do pick up the phone. Call your family and hear their voices like your Great-Great-Uncle B and Great-Great Aunt Jessie Mae did. 

I will admit to you that I am a serious offender. Despite my choice of festive beverage, I am a bit of a hermit. My friends, many times, have to crawl into my shell and drag me out. Family members too. I plan to get better in the coming year. That is one of my little projects. 

But I am not going to nag you about something I should be doing. I am just going to give you a simple request

Think of New Year’s Day as a holiday of hello.

January 1 is low pressure. There’s no present to buy. No person specific date to remember. No food to make. Nothing to do but enjoy. Catch up. Wish happiness upon people.

Do you know the only other time this happens? At endings. Funerals.

So reclaim the ultimate holiday of beginning as a kind of renewal of the ultimate constant. Your family is important.

I also want you to crack open a bottle of Veuve, think of mommy, and celebrate.

I want you to know why I need a more accurate title than "single mom."

I want you to know why I need a more accurate title than "single mom."