Sunday, December 23, 2012

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year


December is practically over, and Christmas is a couple of days away.  As is our custom, the holidays are a happy blur around here.  We try to pack in all of the usual traditions and rituals and make time for new ones here and there.  You have been a joy to watch this year.  There are so many things to see and smell and taste and experience.  I was afraid you'd still be a bit young to catch on, but I am pleasantly surprised that I am wrong.  

Junior Lighting Technician

Mommy's helper.

Cocoa goes with tree decorating like macaroni goes with cheese.
You have amazed me with the restraint you've shown toward our tree.  I honestly expected a major disaster.  From the first morning that you woke up to a decorated tree standing in the living room, you've shown a rather reverent respect for it.  That's not to say that we haven't had an episode or two (or four) where you have manhandled an ornament or branch, but as a whole, you've been on your best behavior.  It wouldn't have surprised me if we had endured at least one tree-toppling by now.  We were careful to do all of the decorating after you went to bed so you wouldn't see us touching the giant "no-no" that is our tree.  Even still, I thought we would be forced to make a decision between gating off the tree or possibly moving it all together.  But so far, so good!
The showdown!.

The temptation is too much.

It would probably help if I was scolding you instead of taking a picture.



You've also taken to quite a few new faces.  You point out Santa and expect me to give you my best "Ho! Ho! Ho!" when we see him.  You also say "snowman" (which sounds like "noman").  There is one stuffed snowman in the house that you've chosen as your favorite.  You hug and squeeze and kiss him incessantly.  Before we know it, you will have acquired an entire new holiday/winter vocabulary.
Your favorite Christmas buddy.
Another thing that I'm delighted to see is that your disdain for accessories seems to be dwindling.  You will wear them on your terms.  Usually, "your terms" means walking down our sidewalk.  You will choose to put on shoes, antlers, sometimes hats and (always) backpacks as long as I let you march up and down our street in your new outfit.  Your ritual is to stop at the neighbor's house and smell her (odorless) flowers, and sometimes even sniff her sprinkler pipes for good measure.  Then we head back toward home and then back again.  I can't help but wonder what the neighbors think of this tiny backpack-wearing, Mardi Gras-bead-bedecked, antler-sporting person who lives on their street.  You are quite the sight!
December comes with its own set of dress-up props.

You got in on the act, too.

Beaded reindeer.


Since Thanksgiving, our house has blossomed into full Christmas mode.  This is the last year that I can openly shop for you while you are in the same cart.  It's the last year I can get away with giving you the baby stocking.  It's the last year that you won't expect to get candy in your stocking like your big sisters do.  It may be your second Christmas with us, but it will be the first time you've participated.  I am struggling to find the time to do all of the the things that the holidays require like shopping and wrapping, fit in the fun stuff like baking and gingerbread houses and still take time to follow you up and down the street snapping pictures of you in antlers.

We have our priorities.  Much of our time has been spent doing traditional Christmas things.  Visits to Santa, letters written and mailed.  We even have a new tradition this year: our Elf on the Shelf, Clora.  She has been keeping an eye on you and your sisters, and causing some mischief in the meantime.  

Roasting elf-sized marshmallows.

Mailing a Christmas list at Macy's.

The mall Santa  The sign said no pictures.  I snuck one.  And he knew!

Happiness powder to help with Sydney's morning grumpies.

Live nativity.

Tortilla snowflakes.

Glitter pinecones.
Some of our December memorable moments are less of a tradition and more of a special event or milestone.  We received such a special package from a friend in Kentucky.  Mommy's friend Megan, and her kids, packaged up a box full of things that represent the beautiful state they are from.  We had such a fun afternoon exploring that box!  I still can't believe that a friendship formed through Instagram can bring such meaningful memories.  She even mailed a box of fall leaves, which were such a treat!  Once the rain stopped, you and Sydney spent the good part of an afternoon playing in the on the lawn.  

White chocolate cat, beautiful accessories, hushpuppy mix, salty ham, blue straws and bourbon balls.  So much Kentucky bounty!

December has been ridiculously warm.  Summery.  We hit the nearby empty "field" for pictures only to discover that you were allergic to something there.

Trying out sparkly shoes.

Leaf jumper.

Kentucky leaves.

You loved the goodies, too.

She finally lost a tooth!  Good thing because the permanent one is on its way.

Self-feeding practice.

You didn't learn this from me, I swear.
This month may be hectic and frenzied at times, but we are doing our best to slow down and just enjoy the magic of the holidays.  And they are magical, for sure!

                        




Monday, December 17, 2012

For Much Later: a story of loss

There are very few things in life for which there are no words that can adequately express our emotions.  Words don't usually fail me. But the senseless tragedy that occurred last week in Connecticut leaves me absolutely speechless.  I have spent the weekend praying for families I have never met.  Putting myself in their place...because I need to.  And then quickly yanking myself back into reality, where I still get to hold my babies.  For reasons I cannot begin to comprehend, God has called home 20 of his most innocent little ones, all of them Sydney's age, and 7 who tried to protect them.  It doesn't matter if they ever find the motive behind this madness.  There is no earthly reason that something like this should happen.  I cannot even begin to imagine the pain, anger and sense of loss that the families affected are feeling.  And I am so thankful to be able to say that.  

At dinner today I had all four of my children in our home.  Safe and sound.  I am wavering between guilt that our immediate family is whole, and praising God that it is so.  That's really the point.  I never want a reminder like this again that we are blessed to have each other and that we need to make the most of our time together.  There is no time for anger, resentment, bitterness, grudges, pettiness, or hurt feelings.  Life is short.  Sometimes way too short.  Parenthood brought with it an instant, ever-present fear that something awful could happen to one of my babies.  There isn't a day that goes by that I don't acknowledge that fear.  But I do my best to use it as motivation to savor every moment of every day.  So when I take too many photos or I am way behind in laundry, try to understand.  Someday you will likely enter this glorious role of motherhood and learn firsthand that there is only so much you can shield your children from.  Nobody is guaranteed a long, happy, healthy life. It's so important to me to be present and in the moment with you girls.  

I've been a mess these few days.  I cried watching Sydney's bus drive away this morning.  I cried over a half-mast flag.  I can barely watch the news, but I feel I owe it to their mommas to hear their stories.  It's the very least we can do.   While I am planning Christmas parties, their families are planning funerals.  Those children should be writing letters to Santa and planning their strategy for staying up late enough to catch a glimpse of him.  Their families should be baking cookies and wrapping presents.  If I'm not careful, I let myself fall down the rabbit-hole of this thought process and really let myself "go there."  The pain of "imagining" is so intense that the reality must be earth-shattering.  To say that it's "unfair" or "senseless" or "evil" is obvious and unnecessary.  There's no way to make sense of it.  There's nothing that can be said or done.

I sincerely hope that by the time you are able to read this that schools are a safe place again. I hope that fear doesn't rule our society, but that common sense does.  I hope that I have raised you to treat everyone who crosses your path with kindness and respect.  You never know what they've been through and what state they are in.  And more than anything, I hope that you never have to experience a fraction of the sorrow these families are immersed in.  I will always do my best to see that it's so, but at this moment I am acutely aware that there are some things that are out of even a mom's all-encompassing, nurturing, capable hands.  And that's a hard thing to come to terms with.  

Sleep peacefully my little one.  Tomorrow will be a great day, and we will make the most of it.  We will do it for those babies and their families who would give anything for one more day.  It won't be wasted on us.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

A Day of Thanksgiving

Lately I feel like I'm trying to cram in the holiday and birthday posts, but I haven't really written anything meaningful about you.  The irony is that you are changing more now than ever before.  Every single day you are blowing my mind.  New feats, some long-awaited and joyous, some death-defying and heart-stopping, are a daily occurrence.  Your features are changing and morphing into a toddler right before my eyes.  Yes, there have been holidays and even birthdays, but the truly memorable moments are happening without any fanfare.  You are a walking-talking-photo-opp right now.  Celebration or not.  I am consumed with catching it all, and yet I haven't taken time to share it here.  So, it was Thanksgiving (forever ago).  Your second Thanksgiving.  We'll get to that in a minute.  


Taking your baby for a walk.  Be still my heart.
First let's talk about this toddler who is making herself at home around here.   Suddenly you have become a person with your own agenda.  And teeth.  Since Halloween, and especially since our Disney trip, teeth have been threatening to rupture through your gums at any minute.  One by one, five of them have made it.  You aren't done yet.  You're still chewing on your fingers like mad and I see more teeth just under the surface.  I'm not sure why you waited a year to get teeth or why you decided to get them all at once, but I'm glad the worst of it seems to be over for now.  You were remarkable considering the trauma that was happening inside of that little mouth. Just a couple of rough nights, one of them spent on the sofa with me.  A small price to pay for being able to finally try the array of foods that has been out of your reach up until now. 


Teeth!

Your "raise the roof" dance move.

Biker.
 You are also quite the mischief-maker.  You climb to the second story of the dollhouse, open cabinet doors, hunt for power strips that we have hidden from you, try to snag silverware out of the dishwasher anytime I am loading or unloading it, throw the remotes behind the sofa, knock over barstools and lick everything in sight.  The other day, you let out a "help me" cry and I found you standing on the rocking chair, hands on the table, stuck between the two.  I was ten steps away, but yet you managed to get yourself in this predicament.  These are the days when I can't turn my back on you for one second.  But then again, you also push baby dolls around in the mini stroller, layer beaded necklaces on while you sit in front of the dress-up carousel mirror, tap your chest when you say everyone's names (because that's what we do to you), pretend to cook in your little kitchen (you love putting the play checkbook in the fridge for some reason), stare out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of a "dog-dog", wear backpacks obsessively (even saying "backpack" for any and every form of bag, purse, lunchbox and, of course, backpack) and even try to wink by blinking both eyes and scrunching up your nose.  It all evens out.  


Stunt Driver.


See ya later, mom!
Since I've last posted (I am the worst blogger ever), Sydney's puppy party for her 7th Birthday has come and gone.  It was the wild, sugar-fueled, pooch-obsessed event that I expected it to be.  The kids took to the puppy adoption concept even better than I had expected.  They each got to choose a puppy from the "pound", adopt it and name it.  We even had adoption certificates we printed out here .  Then they took turns shopping in the puppy store (full of blankets, mini frisbees, bouncy balls, bandannas, bones, collars, stickers,  Scooby Doo "dog treats", and make-your-own beds), taking their dogs to the vet (just the two doctor kits we have, plus some printables including a vet checklist, and a real x-ray of a dog who swallowed dentures on the computer screen), and the puppy spa (empty spray bottles, ribbons, brushes, cotton swabs and balls, etc).  We painted puppy faces, applied puppy tattoos and donned puppy ears (cut out ear-shapes from spotted fabric and hot-glued them to elastic headbands...even the boys enjoyed them!).  It was kind of a blur, and I think the trampoline may have been the highlight for many of them, and I'm pretty sure I sent them all home looking more like members of Kiss than actual dogs, but Sydney was happy and that's what matters most.  You, however, were not a fan of the puppy ears.  You made that quite clear.


Some party outtakes, including what happens when you ask 7(ish) yr olds to take a silly picture.


Make a wish.  The cupcakes were delicious, but not so pretty.  Oh, well.  It was late and I enlisted help.
Thanksgiving Day was the end of babyhood and our initiation into the world of toddlers, as far as I'm considered.  I remember last year's Thanksgiving vividly.  You were only a month and a half old.  Everyone tried to talk me out of hosting that year, but I vehemently turned them down.  Honestly, I can't imagine having Thanksgiving anywhere else.  I'm organized to a fault on the big day, with a timeline written out in 15 minute increments so as not to miss a thing.  I've been doing this for twelve years now and rely mostly on memory and instinct, but I still have a binder handy, full of previous years' recipes, timelines and even grocery lists.  Holidays are the one thing I am "good at."  You, however, had exhausted your patience by dinner time last year.  Your schedule was off, the house was full of people, you hadn't spent as much time with me as you were accustomed.  By dinnertime you were having a breakdown...and it was mutual.  Instead of eating with the family I hid in the bedroom and laid down with you.  I was secretly wishing everyone would go home.  I remember asking Grandma to "just set the desserts out on whatever dishes they were stored in on the dinner table."  What?!  That person does not sound like me.  Me, who has special dishes and serving trays that are used one day a year: Thanksgiving.  And I didn't bother to get them out.  I didn't clear away dinner and display the desserts?  I didn't make sure there was eggnog, whipped cream, a fresh, whole nutmeg and a grater, and coffee creamer set out for everyone to use?  That person surely was not me.  But that was last year.


Literally, the only picture I took of you last Thanksgiving.
This year you blossomed on that most grateful of days.  You took center stage, and as the house filled with people, you made your way through the crowd of family independently and confidently.  I couldn't stop watching you.  You played with the big kids.  You ate the big people food (and 3 dinner rolls!).  You pretty much ignored me.  That dependent baby, who needed me so desperately last year, was replaced by the star of the show.  You sat with Aunt Shana, talked to Uncle Justin, played with Pop-Pop.  I marveled at how far you had come.  Just the day before, your steps were shaky and intermittent with crawling.  That day the crawling disappeared.  You stole hearts.  You showed off.  You sparkled.  What a day.  Oh, and the food was pretty good, too.


Just one of the "big kids" this year.


Winking.  Seriously, that's what you think you're doing.

Dry, cool weather = static electricity.

Digging in.
And chowing down!
We lucked out in the weather-department.  The high was 75, the sliding glass doors and windows stayed open all day, and nobody eating on the patio was sweating.  I couldn't ask for more. You joined Sydney and I on our annual nature walk, during which we gather whatever natural elements that we can find that could pass as "fall decor" to decorate the table.  Usually that means acorns, pinecones, twigs and lately some leaves off of the Japanese Maple down the street.  Other than that, Sydney picks up all sorts of random dead leaves and seed pods to add to the mix.  I love that she sees fall in any brown leaf.  Then again, it's a sure sign that I need to get you girls up north to see a real fall landscape! Last year we were so hot that the experience was basically miserable, much to my disappointment.  This year was marginally better.  Sydney is going through a whiny phase that can't end soon enough, but once we got past the fussiness, it was an enjoyable tradition again.  The decorating and the prep are some of my favorite parts of this holiday.  I revel in the quiet contemplation that baking allows.  I live for the spicy smells of a kitchen that has seen a day full of cinnamon and pumpkin-laden treats prepared.  I savor the opening chords of the Charlie Brown Christmas cd that I never play between December 26th and Thanksgiving Day.  This year was no exception. 


Foraging.

Lovely day for a nature walk.

Taking it easy on our walk.

Found one!

My favorite thing about our street.  Oak trees.

Sisters.

Wiping away the grumpies.

Family.  And Thanksgiving dinner: Buffet-style.
Grammy and her camera.  It's no wonder where I get my photo addiction from.

This actually happened.  You have your Pop-Pop around your little finger.

A rousing game of pin-the-hat-on-the-turkey finished off the night.
With a grateful heart, I watched my family gather in a circle for prayer before dinner that night.  People always want to know what you are thankful for this time of year  Well I'm thankful for the things you would expect: a roof over our head during these times when so many people are struggling to make ends meet; a meal with loved ones, knowing that there are millions who are hungry; and all of the conveniences that make our life easy, even though generations before us have lived without them.  But "thankful" doesn't begin to scratch the surface of what I feel about my family.  Your father who works tirelessly to support this family and is 100% dedicated to keeping me at home with you as long as it is possible.  You girls who are the very air I breathe.  You are so much a part of me that I cannot remember the days before you or imagine even a moment without you.  So while I will take this opportunity to express my thankfulness for you, your sisters and father, please know that it goes so far beyond that.  My love for you is deeper than the deepest, longer than the longest, higher than the highest.  I love you to infinity and back again.  And even that doesn't seem to do it justice.