LOST A SOCK

Because there's not a page in his baby book for the milestone where he pronounces his parents old for the first time

So the five of us are sitting around the dinner table together, and I mention to Kevin our next door neighbor boy, who had by then been setting off bottle rockets and other small explosives for a solid six hours. 

"I think he's a little young to be lighting fireworks with no supervision, don't you?"  I ask my husband.

"Heck yeah I do," he says, "I didn't get to blow off fireworks by myself until I started high school."  (Because this is how we lay out future rules for our own children, you know.)

And then our oldest child, all of six, chimes in, "Well that was the old days, dad.  These are the new times."

And I realized that for the very first time my child has dated us, and possibly expressed his belief that our rules are mildly archaic.  Something tells me it is only the beginning.

Happy Independance Day (from one patriotic little monkey who will always think her mother is cool, yes?)

(Or not.)

Untitled

I don't know what to say, how to say it, what is appropriate or what is too much.  It's all too much right now.

My Aunt Kath died during the night last night.

I've not shared her story on my website, her three year battle with breast cancer, because I felt that it was her story to tell and always the news, good or bad, was hers.  She always read my blog and whenever we got together she was in the know on what was going on in my life.  It is always so humbling when someone takes interest in you like that.  She left comments from time to time, and in a while I will hunt for them.  The pink breast cancer ribbon in my sidebar is hers.

 

Wicked, August 2008

We had become a fine fun group, my Aunt Kath and my mom, my sister Sant and her girlfriend Leslie.  It was good, and it made me happy.  It made her happy too.

 

She fought her metastasizing disease bravely through the stages, through every God-forsaken organ it spread to, right to the end.  She fought for her life and for her family.  More than anything she didn't want to leave her boys.  She won't.

We kept up with knowing her treatments and what tumor marker number she was at.  Ironically, and hitting so close to home, the test I just went through last week.  My mom, Sant, Leslie and I spent the day with her on Sunday after she was admitted to the hospital.  We discussed Jon and Kate and painted her fingernails and her toes.   The girls and I snuck out to the car while she rested and demolished a bag of chocolate chip cookies.  (Not that that has anything to do with anything, but it gets honorable mention just the same.) 

 

She lost all of her hair through radiation and chemotherapy, and also her taste buds and appetite, and she lost weight.  Her voice quieted and her mobility tapered.  Cancer is the most unimaginably violent disease.  It doesn't have to say a word. 

Thankfully, my Aunt Kath hung on to her sass and her zest and would still happily inform you when you were being a pain in the ass, even if she could only say it quietly.  The rear window of her SUV displays the little boy peeing, like you sometimes see him pee on Ford or Chevy.  Her little guy pisses on the word Cancer.  In pink, even. 

I thought, when we left her on Sunday night, that we would see her again the following weekend.  Then the next afternoon when her CAT scan results came back they let us know that she had only about a month left.  It wasn't that we were unaware of how bad she was; it was just still so hard to believe.  And then when everyone had gone home to rest, late last night, she slipped away quietly.

My Aunt Kath was fun loving and happy.  She worked in Special Education at a Middle School up until last fall, and she loved her job like most people hope to love theirs.  She didn't stop working until she practically couldn't walk into the school building anymore.  At only fifty-two years old she leaves her husband of thirty-two years, and her sons Danny and Jonathan, twenty-two and twelve.  She leaves all of us, for a while at least.

 

And she will be missed.

Your Mom

It's Mother's Day, and I bet you'll be glad to know with my recent propensity for blogging only once or twice weekly?  That as long as you return to this website each day until I write a new post, it is still Mother's Day for all you moms. 

Monday?  Why, I have nothing to blog about.  And Mother's Day it is.

Tuesday?  Okay I do have something to say but the baby's diaper is leaking, my six year old has a little league game in an hour and the twelve baskets of laundry lining my bedroom floor won't be putting themselves away.

Wednesday?  Continue celebrating.  You're a real mother, I tell you.

And you get the idea.  Thank me later.

While switching loads of laundry this morning I thought about all of the Mother's Days we celebrated when I was growing up and I wondered if this Mother's Day thing, and motherhood in general, is what I thought it would be 100 years ago before I had kids.  I don't remember whether my mom washed my clothes on Mother's Day, and I don't know what she quietly thought about, or if she was happy with the way things were going on that particular day or in general for our family. 

My kids won't remember today either.  They made me presents and a card and told me that they loved me, and as a kid I thought that to be the most important part- to give mom something good.  But now I know as a mom, that the best part of all on this day and every day, as insanely cliche as it sounds, is just to have these kids.  They don't need to do anything or say anything or make anything.  Just being who they are without giving it so much as a thought, and being mine, is indescribably Good, even when it isn't.  Turns out the day isn't about celebrating my role in this family at all, but simply celebrating this family. 

Later this afternoon in five minutes we will have both sides of our families over for a feast, and to give them the gifts that we've been working on this week.

Last Sunday afternoon the five of us took a long walk together and played at the park.

The Sunday afternoon before that Kevin and I had front row tickets to this crazy wild rock show (where the drummer wasn't even wearing pants!)

Though the xylophone player kept making her way too far into the middle of the action for the drummer's liking.

The Sunday afternoon before, I don't know, but I really think most of them have been Mother's Days, and that's what I hope my kids remember.  And for when they someday read this, today I think we're doing okay, and even better than okay, and I love whatever it is we do when we're all together.  I didn't mind washing your clothes on Mother's Day (though we'll talk differently when you're 17, 14 and 12) and I quietly thought, this morning as I picked up the family room, about how and when we can finally add a giant table to that room and let the homeschooling begin.  I loved your pot holder and your picture frame this morning, but most of all I love you.

(Also, Marin, way to go on conquering the word Mama this week.  I may be second to Baba, but I get it.  Ha!)

Boys

As I worked my way through the April pictures on my hard drive yesterday, I noticed that I have quite a few this-n-thats of KJ and Jack from recent.  (Which shouldn't be so odd, unless you consider that over the previous six months they've barely salted and peppered the Marin collection I have going.)  (But she's a baayyyyyybeeee.)

There are lots and lots of these, as oh yes, we have delved into the Wonderful World of Little League. 

I will admit to having many an unkind thought about Little League throughout all of March and April as I sat in the middle of a wide open, disgustingly squishy mud field through terribly cold, damp windy evenings, in a sinking lawn chair with chattering teeth, numb extremities.  I twisted schedules as far as I could to save Marin from sure misery, setting her up with my sister and her girlfriend as often as humanly possible.  Jack, on the other hand, happily attended each practice because apparently he does not mind hypothermic shock or being caked in mud from ass to toes...as long as there are other younger brothers to run around with.  And mud to play in.  I mentioned the mud, yes?  He also doesn't have to clean shoes and wash muddy laundry.  Heh.  Mud.

Thankfully there is a light at the end of the tunnel in the case of all these practices, and it comes when you get to see your cute little kid in a cute little baseball uniform. 

And all at once the weather grows slightly warmer, thank God, so that I can actually feel my fingers while scraping muddy gym shoes, pants, jackets, sockstoysstrollerwheels. 

Now?  Pretty fun, that Little League.

I think next year we shall skip practice season altogether and get right to the concession stand popcorn games. 

Also on my hard drive, children building tents everywhere, which is one of their afternoon favorites.

Playing in their two-man late-night band,

and game playing.

I love Jack's crazy expressions.

Also, this.

Am thinking it will be a while before he smiles for the camera again.  Male child, age three is in full swing now, folks.

...Giving way to this Loch Ness something or other. 

At least I have something to save for a high school girlfriend or two, right?

Not that the other one is without his own April '09 collection of crazies.

He does know how to work the camera, eh? 

That's mah boy.

This one's cucu bird picture collection will begin soon enough, I guarantee.  Those I can save for her teenage love affairs with the Jonas Brothers or Children of the Backstreet Boys or whoever is popular then.

She's been practicing. 

And most thankfully her practices take place on an indoor carpeted surface, sans cold, sans mud, muck, yuck- though sadly they do not involve paper bag popcorn, double butter little salt.  Trade offs, I tell you.

Goodbye, April!

Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn (that you went to bed tonight smelling like pee).

There's always tomorrow for baths, and then more pee opportunities anyway, right?

I have these blog entries swirling in my head, covering the ins and outs of our homeschool decision and action plan, as well as something or other about grocery bills and finances and the market, oh my.  But alas, my three chidren woke at 5:46am today and wouldn't you know it's Turn Off The TV week for KJ's school, making for a loooong day.  (Seriously, the kid gets a Dairy Queen Blizzard if he clocks no minutes of television in the next five days.  Dare I offer to buy him two blizzards if I can just get one hour of quiet?)

Also something terrible happened to our baby swing early last week, which translates to It No Longer Goes, and therefore my daughter has decided that her only happiness shall henceforth be my arms, swinging her like a worn out mama ape all the livelong day.  And night.

 

We finally made it into nice weather last week, which brought opportunities for a couple outdoor playdates as well as a trip to (say it with me) the zoooo.  Those be my children, absolutely mortified of the roaring Brontosaurus in the background there, as if I don't have to remind them to stop talking about Bionicles and Transformers blasting each others' heads off every five minutes at home.  Needless to say we steered clear of the life sized T-Rex exhibit.

We do well with downed trees, though.

Quick! (Before they dump her!) Baby's first slide!

I keep wondering, with each fun Spring day we conquer, if I will continue to be this tired at the end of each outing.  Running around with three young children is much like the longest roller coaster ride of your life.  Thrilling! Exciting! Totally fun! Sometimes makes you vomit! Aaaaaaand okay that's enough let's take a break from this ride, no?  Everybody wants to go upside down again?  Really?  Eh.

I honestly wouldn't have it any other way, in that being out, happy and free is our way, for sure, but most days the work that goes into occupying, teaching, feeding, bathing and constantly corralling three children continues to slay me.  I have learned to let go of luxuries such as commenting on blogs, leaving the house in spit-up-free clothing and keeping up with housework on floors that are not the main level...for now.  So they'll have the same sets of sheets on their beds until they are twelve, nine and six.  At least they're matchy, no? 

Also, I am learning to let them move at their individual paces during the day, which is how this happens...

The boy woke up twenty minutes into dinner, peed head to toe (and managed to pee on two! stairs,) went straight into pajamas, no bath, but happily ate a pound of broccoli.  Lose, win, yes?  His sister also pooped something fierce moments after the soaking scene, hearing that I didn't really care to eat anyway.  Ask me why I haven't dieted in a month, and why peanut butter slathered kaiser rolls are my late-night companion. 

Rounding out the week, Kevin took KJ and Jack to the annual Notre Dame Blue and Gold Game on Saturday (as well as for a drive into Michigan and then an impromptu trip to the beach, where Jack announced that the best part of the whole day was The Pop! that he drank back at the stadium.) 

This?  Gave Marin and I the day to slip away, ourselves -- for baby day with our Indianapolis pals.

Kara and Marin, sixteen and seven months respectively, are a laugh a minute together.  They squealed at each other, happily rolled around on the floor all afternoon and showed sure signs for being future BFF's. 

I also got in good quality snuggle time with my sweet little godson Nathan, who was both confused and nervous about all of the high-pitched squealing, giggling and baby tackling.  Where were the Bionicle Brothers, he wondered.  (Drinking pop, that's where.)

Spit-up covered roller coaster ride indeed.  But crazy fun, no?

Oh I could write a sonnet about your Easter bonnet...

(It may not be published until mid-next month, but hey, I do what I can.) 

One of my favorite Easter things to do with the kids is the egg dye.  KJ was barely a year old when I plopped him in his high chair and taught him to mix colors, and we've been having a great time with it every year since.  The most fun so far, I must say, is taking on this task with toddlers because, well, they're a freaking blast when it comes to semi-permanant dye and mess making. 

This year was good, with the green hands and the multitude of Optimus Prime-inspired eggs, but nothing ridiculously entertaining with ages six and three.  (This is why I keep having babies.  Next year?  Mwahahaha!  Another toddalah!)

 

Which, I fear the toddalah thing is going to happen sooner than I can wrap my brain around, because look at this one just sitting there with her basket and her brothers like she wasn't just fresh out of the womb yesssssssterday.  (She was, I swear.) 

Also, she is fully prepared to eat the damn Gerber cookie, wrapper and all, if I can't put down the camera and remove the cellophane already.

 

Eastaaaaaah.  (Two outta three non-goofballs aint bad, no?)

 

Strawberry Shortcake and baby sandals, oh my!

 

And she was as excited as I was about them!  Squee!

Then it was off to visit family far and wide, where we infected my sister Sant and her girlfriend Leslie with the stomach flu, and also my brother Jake, and then my mom, and then my dad (you know, as a thank you gift for spending the entire day before Easter helping Kevin construct our new swing set), and last but certainly not least we gave the stomach bug to my mother-in-law who is hospitalized with it as we speak. 

I bet they all can't wait to have us over again next year.

Brush With Death meets Full House. Full circle, yo.

I can totally see how you're already making a connection between this and this. 

Yes.

So when I last left you twenty-seven years ago I was basking in the glow of mountainous glory and classy dining: Kevin and I were having a California vacation without kids.

And after spending a couple days not getting enough of nature all around, we decided to head up to Muir Woods, which had been spoken so highly of. 

It was raining as we crossed a little known bridge in San Fransisco that morning, but certainly nothing that could keep us inside during our California adventure.  And as we got lost in Sausalito (who gets lost with a GPS, I ask you?) we noticed that the farther north we traveled and the higher into the mountains we climbed, wowee, the clouds around us became thicker.

Onward, just the same.

A bit into our journey we noticed a modest wood sign pointing off the winding mountain road a bit to a Buddhist retreat center.  We followed our curiosities and the road, which wound us down forever into a hidden valley, past some of the tallest trees I've ever seen in my life. 

Walking a narrow dirt path far into the valley we came upon a quiet, fairly dilapidated but remarkably peaceful place.  There were robed monks moving silently from place to place, graciously welcoming us in spite of the fact that we clearly did not fit the bill, generously inviting us to explore their gardens and the beach nearby. 

And after spending a fantastic morning there, taking pictures and nosing around, we continued on to whatever our next encounter should be. 

And it was an equally peaceful, damn, just so pleasant lunch in a tiny town of only a few businesses on one short stretch of road.  Then time for exploring the nearby bookstore (tiny place, creaky floors, rustic shelves, crazy charming) and trinket store. 

What a day.  What a day!  If it wasn't enough that we were simply moving along and stopping as we pleased, we were now running into the most charming places along the way.  It was the most peaceful, enjoyable time.  Just next to that other enjoyable day in the mountains, and enjoyable in the city, and...you get the point.

Onward.

So as things sometimes go, our day sort of turned a corner as we did.  We turned off the main road onto something that had actually made it onto a state map, though the map gave absolutely no indication of how winding, mountainous or straight freaking uphilly it was. 

And boy, rainy.  And winding, and long, too.

Winding, long, foggy and rainy and slow.

And, um, creepy?

As we climbed higher and higher into the heavily wooded mountains, slowly as ever on this tightrope of a road on the side of a mountain (or could have been middle of the mountain, hell I couldn't see anything but STRAIGHT DOWN) both Kevin and myself admitted to a sinking feeling.  We seriously could not see, and something seemed out of place, or just plain wrong here.  And we knew we needed to get off of this dark climb and back to something that was not the Blair Witch Project.

No. Shit.

Intensifying the feeling of sure doom, as we headed around one curve we noticed a white car parked up ahead.  Oh finally, people! was our at-first.  

And then, Oh crap, parked!

In essential darkness wooded middle of nowhere surely doing something illegal.  

Oh shit, illegal driver just looked straight at us.  

(Gulp.)

And then, as we got closer?  She sheilded her face with her hands!  BECAUSE NO DOUBT FOR SURE SHE AND HER PAL ONE SEAT OVER ARE BURYING A BODY UP HERE AND EHHHHHHHHHHHH WE! JUST! WITNESSED! IT!

(Gasp.  Gasp.  Gasp.)

We couldn't even speak the words to each other, but we both realized things in our minds or in reality, I am not sure, were getting out of control.  Kevin drove faster (12 mph) as each of us continually checked our car mirrors to be sure we weren't being chased up and down a dark mountain by murderers with bloody daggers.  Who know we saw.  (Nothing.)  

Hey look!  We've lost our GPS signal! 

And cell phones too!

We were racing - our hearts and our car.

I was panicking, going back to the map over and over to see when we'd finally hit another road - a way out of our outdoor entrapment, forget Muir Woods, all while venting my terror by yelling at my husband to GET OVER OH MY HELL WE ALMOST SLID OFF THE DAMN MOUNTAIN JUST THERE.  MOOOOOVE OVER, SLOW DOWN, SPEED UP WHITE CAR AAAAAAAHHHHHHH DAMN YOU VACATION!

Hours later we made it to our happy town that was just so happy...and happy! at lunchtime.  Only now it was creepy.  And our bookstore and our cafe were closed. 

So we stopped at the only place that was open, the teeny tiny grocery store, and bought caffinated beverages.  And I grabbed free matches, in case we needed to build a fire. 

 

And a bagel with an entire block of cream cheese in the middle.

Hours more later, we reached civilization and God shown sunlight down upon us for a moment.  And we did not die. 

We instead had In-N-Out Burgers, found a hotel and collapsed. 

(Now just take a second to digest and breathe.  Holy crap, no?)

Lucky for us, the morning that followed brought the exact opposite of sheer terror.  It brought my happy childhood back to me where I lived in my mind part time as DJ Tanner (and my sister Sant, sister Stephanie). 

 

Everywhere you look, indeed.

The day brought, oh sweet sigh relief, fantastic San Fransisco views,

sloping, sunshine-kissed streets far and wide,

and Mexican food on St. Patrick's Day.

We were not only fully adjusted to the two hour time difference that is the west coast to us, but our brains had been scrambled by the Blair Witch Sight-Seeing Tour that was the day previous and it was bean burritos for all. 

And home again, home again, jiggity jig.

We now begin our descent

We're home!

Annnnd I shot exactly 1,518 pictures on this our only child-free vacation in more than eight years.  Grab a drink, and maybe one of those squishy neck pillows.  I plan on posting every last one of those pictures.

Right as we began our California vacation, we set some ground rules for ourselves:  We made exactly no hotel reservations in the effort to sleep wherever we landed on any particular night, spend money on only what was really important to us (i.e. middle-of-the-road rental car, relatively inexpensive (but cleeean) hotels, saving plenty of cash for fancy schmancy kid-free dining and chooooocolate.)  Priorities, right?

Also, we decided that we should do what we cannot so easily do when we travel with the kids.  For me that meant driving twelve hours some days just to see everything we wanted to.  And browsing quiet shops that sell glass things.  For Kevin that meant climbing large rocks worrying only about his own demise.

(Black hair and all.)

Neither of us had ever been to the Pacific Ocean, though we have been through massvie mountains many times.  And the marrying of those two beauties?  Top priority.  On our very first day, in fact, we set the destination on our GPS for a tiny town hundreds of miles south that we figured we'd never reach, and we headed out on California 1, a road that winds through mountains, mountains, mountains right beside water, water, water. 

We stopped to walk through the grounds where Wayne Dyer filmed his recent movie,

and then to photograph every natural wonder we saw along our way.

And ohhhhh were there wonders.

I sort of knew as we pulled the car over on each available mountainside turnout that the pictures just wouldn't do it justice.  It was absolutely breath-taking - the ear-piercing silence and the smell of the ocean water and towering trees, all while standing on the edge of the earth in the middle of nowhere.  There was no one there, just us and God and water. 

And standing in the middle of it that whole day, over and over, made me feel grateful to be living on the planet- even if only for those very hours. 

We drove all day long, from morning to night, on the winding, ever-climbing mountain roads beside the ocean.  We lost cell phone reception, internet capabilities and even our GPS signal from time to time (though really, it wasn't like we could get lost.  There was one road in the middle of nowhere for miles and miles and all we had to do was not fall off the cliffs.)  It was the best day.

Watching the sun set in this way was exactly as I'd imagined it, only infinitely better.  It was nothing short of perfect.

Perfect, of course, until we realized that dark out there?  Was reeeally dark.  And my pictures turned to this.

And this.

Hmm.  Wouldn't it be great if someone thought to build a restaurant out here?  Or a gas station?  Or...anything?

We drove for a very long time until we finally stumbled upon another road with a little town, where we feasted on brie cheese, pine nuts, fruit and just-past-the-oven bread, followed by the freshest meats and organic herb-roasted vegetables.  That's what California is good for, that place.

We drove again for quite a while, finishing out our trip through Big Sur and well beyond, finally stumbling on another tiny town with a set of six cabins. 

And then we got up early the next morning, walked fifteen feet past our room and watched the sun rise right back up over that big blue basin.

This could not have gone any better if it had been planned, I tell you.

Later that day we undersood why California has such damn happy cows,

found the charm that is San Fransisco,

ran through the raindrops as we shopped souvenirs to our hearts content without so much as a complaint or a potty stop for anyone under six, dined on fresh crab - again with the candles, again with the quiet, only this time as we overlooked the San Fransisco Bay, listening to the sea lions bark.

We also wished to be Big,

and toured the city by twinkling lights.

Okay so we couldn't help one quick photo-op.  You know, for the kids.

Of course you do realize that no trip can be pulled off perfectly, or without heart palpitations for one reason or another...

Ohhhhh Eight

With having Jack's birthday right there as we ring in each new year, I noticed that I've not ever written a Year In Review post or a Herrrrrre's What's To Come entry on this website -- even though I am actually a mite bit obsessed with a huge fan of reflecting on the past and planning for the future.  So if you'll allow me to drag the new year celebration on for just a bit longer (sure you can drink champagne while you read) we can take a quick look at my year past, and later the one to come.

When I think about 2008, now that we are all of six days into 09, I need a good cry.  Every time.  First I want to weep big crocodile tears of sobby sadness for the hard road that was last year, then some tears of joy and gratitude, and then back for a good long cry of relief.  We made it through 2008.  And frigging hell it was TOUGH.

I think 2007 was one of those years that makes the surrounding ones pale in comparison.  I felt most myself in 2007.  I had a ton of energy and on paper we really accomplished a lot.  We went lots of places and moved to a new house, Kevin took on a new job and I painted and redecorated and just felt healthy in so many ways.  I assumed that 2008 would be a continuation of the year previous and I could spend the rest of my life gleefully hopping around with two kids Enjoying Every Damn Thing (once we sold that pesky house, of course). 

Why hello Morning Sickness, where did you come from?

As can be imagined, I learned a lot this year.  I learned a lot about patience, and grace, and flexibility.  We chucked our plans for selling our old house and rented it out.  We chucked our plans for being a two-child family and opened our hearts to our new baby.  I chucked my plans for finishing my weight loss and for happily vacationing, and we put off every major purchase possible.  Some things really fell to shit, and some of them were rebuilt.  Some things I will never be able to discuss here, but, well, they played a large factor in The Crazy that this year was also.  I'm glad to see the year come to an end.  I'm grateful for all of the opportunities for learning that I was presented with, and I hope I came away understanding everything I needed to.  And my word, I am thankful for my happy sweet-smelling baby that came from this year. 

So here we go - 2008 In Review - In Numbers.

In 2008...

• I mowed zero lawns, dragged garbage cans to the curb only once, and shoveled snow only twice.  Ahh pregnancy, alas I find your perks. 
• We had 2 baby showers, 15 ultrasounds, 1 surgery, 1 tumor removed and 1 reproductive organ lost.  This year my body happily grew 1 beautiful six pound baby and I continued my long-standing career sabbatical to stay home, care for and educate 2 equally wonderful and energetic little boys (and then 1 adorable baby girl).
• In 2008 I consumed 467 pounds of cookie dough followed by a close second, 462.5 pounds of every variety of fresh fruit, canned fruit, fruit flavoring and fruity smelling non-fruit fruit.  I drank only 1/3 as much coffee as I would have, hosted 6 parties in our home, consumed 2 alcoholic beverages and gained 50 pounds (the calories in the alcohol, I tell you!)
• I changed approximately 4000 diapers in 2008, washed at least 1500 loads of laundry, had 2 houses flood, 1 roof leak, and 2 vacuums died.  I painted only 1 room in 2008, hid from 1 tornado, stepped on 984 legos, pinched 1 nerve in my upper back and fell down the stairs once in the middle of the night (and tore the thermostat out of the wall in the process, way to go on doing nothing half-assed.)  I blew my nose 14,982,227 times through the course of 17 colds. 
• In 2008 I ran the dishwasher at least 365 times and washed approximately 4 dishes by hand.
• Major purchases were limited to 1 larger vehicle, 1 winter coat, 1 television and innumerable pink baby sleepers.  This year we purchased 3 DVD's, no CD's, our first video game system as a married couple, and 1 video game.  I purchased 1 pair of shoes this year and no purse.  This year we went to no concerts, no movies, 1 musical, and paid 18 mortgage payments out of our savings veins pocket. 
• Holding strong, we managed to fully fund 1 IRA, rebuild our savings and close out the year without 1 dollar of credit card debt. 
• I read 2 books that influenced me in a major way, meditated at least 100 times and attended church only twice in the middle of an incredible spiritual journey.  I learned 2 very important lessons in 2008, watched my favorite documentary at least 20 times and claimed my personal stake as 1 huge History Channel Dork.
• I learned to love, appreciate and accept this 1 body that serves me whether it is baby-filled, overweight, well cared for or otherwise.  I quietly celebrated my 11th anniversary with Kevin, proud of its fruits, proud of what it took to arrive there.
• In 2008 we took no vacations but made our way into 4 neighboring states, attended no weddings, 1 wake, no funerals, 1 baptism, countless birthday parties.  I helped coordinate 2 classroom parties and rode a school bus 3 times.
• We scheduled 1 vasectomy and cancelled 1 vasectomy, no longer convinced that two 3 is our magic stopping number.  (Possibly I don't mind changing 4000 diapers a year as much as I think?)  I underwent 1 tumor regrowth check to find myself still tumor free and cancer free, hopefully forevermore, at least until February. 
• I kept up with 67 blog feeds, wrote 144 blog entries of my own and took more than 8200 pictures.  I read more than 1000 children's books, (mostly) potty trained 1 little boy, and taught my 2 boys about charity, hands-on, in 3 ways this year.  I made two sets of curtains, six pillows and my first quilt on my gramma's sewing machine.
• I mailed out 72 Christmas cards this year, and excitedly received 46. I was awful about responding to emails.
• In 2008 I sang hundreds of songs, cried more tears than I care to count, smiled thousands of genuine smiles and thanked God hundreds of times for all that we are blessed with.  Even when those blessings are wrapped up in an easy-to-exit year like 2008.

In the spirit of not making Christmas last through April

Because honestly, I think I've got enough blog fodder saved in my brain to post daily Christmas entries for at least that long. 

And now a disclaimer: It's a shame that we're always so busy doing Christmasy things to document all of the Christmasy things we've been doing.  And for that reason, I am going to cram as much Christmas into one entry as I can get.  I wish you luck.  Mostly I'm sure my immediate family will make it to the end of our seventeen Christmas celebrations, and possibly that is all.

I'm a huge celebrator of seasons and holidays and...everything.  In the summer we spend afternoons at the beach and hiking trails and running through splash-pads.  In the fall we walk in the leaves and pick pumpkins and take day-trips to the most colorful places we can find.  And Christmas?  Is no different.  I try to make it feel like Christmas every day around here from the minute I pull out the holiday decorations a heartbeat past Thanksgiving (or, um, earlier this year, oopsie) with baking and Christmas movies, oohing and ahhing over twinkling lights around town and singing more holiday tunes than my poor husband can sanely handle.

 

KJ constructed his annual gingerbread house

 

and Jack made chocolate-covered candy-sprinkled pretzels with Kevin's aunt and uncle.

 

KJ baked cookies with my mom

while Jack refused his apron, refused the mixer, and hid quitely in her fridge until it was time to taste the cookie dough.  (Note to self: Read the story of The Little Red Hen to middle child.)

 

All this while Marin donned her apron and contemplated the iniquities of being a three month old on baking day.  (Better luck next year, baby.)

I helped coordinate KJ's school Christmas party

  

and dressed up Ralphie and Randy for the snow more times than I care to count.  

Then, finally, we reached the beginning of the Christmas parties.  First with my mom's extended family the weekend before Christmas, next with Kevin's family on Christmas Eve, then our own fun on Christmas morning, and then Christmas afternoon at my mom and dad's house. 

 

On Christmas morning I sat the kids in front of the tree & presents before we began opening, and had one of those blissful Wow, I Have Three Now! moments that I assume all parents have from time to time, where you wonder how you got so old and responsible all of a sudden when just yesterday you were carelessly hanging out with friends on your cluttered dorm room floor, begging your sober roommate to serve as the DD for a 3am to the local truck stop for scrambled eggs and bacon.  I swear when my parents had three (and then four) of us they seemed infinitely older (sorry guys) and like they were sure they knew what they were doing (and now at thirty I'm totally calling their bluff.)

 

Everyone got exactly what they were hoping for, including KJ who received some form of his coveted Lego Mars Mission (some form being not the ninety dollar one, but one that made him happy enough to build it immediately on Christmas morning with great excitement)

(before deconstructing it the very next day to mix it in with the other eight gazillion legos he owns, to build something entirely different).

This, I believe, shall be the Christmas that goes down in history as The One With All The Legos and Trains - the above Geotrax collection being a collaborative effort of both paternal and maternal grandparents, and one S. Claus.  (Not to forget the Thomas Movement that is happening in our lower level family room -- I have designated the upstairs for Geotrax and downstairs for Thomas, welcome to Out-of-Hand-ville.)

I think that every parent will tell you that Christmas is the absolute best time to have young children.  Everything is magical, and fun and exciting (and I assume less complicated than having teenagers, no?)  The last several days of lego construction, train track assembly, and even house cleaning has been nothing short of just perfect, wonderful and memorable.  (God help me I know I'll be beaten if I go into Motherhood Euphoria again, so I'll save you the speech.  But I'm thinking it!)

 

Hope you all had a wonderful holiday also.   

(Also, I've finally been playing catch-up with flickr over the last several days, determined to complete my 2008 picture collection before the year is up.  Lots new there.)