Christmas Was Here

This post will chronicle our Christmas events. Plain and simple. I'll try to be quick, narrating as little as possible. A picture's worth a thousand words, right? I only added a few.

We had Christmas with the kids the night before we left town. Do you love their matching festive ensembles and Ivan's masculine socks? We had just returned home from gymnastics, which usually leaves enough time for dinner and a maybe a bath before bed time. Oh, and squeeze in the family Christmas.

No "candy" canes in these stockings. Those are pens. School supplies. Much better than a sugary treat, right?

A present for the boys quickly captivated everyone, except for me. I mean, it's just spinning a little round piece of plastic. How easily they are entertained. Fun times.

Hannah Montana blanket for Avery. I had found it on clearance for $3 this past summer. Score. She probably thanked me a hundred times over the next few days for that thing.

The excitement over Keith's gift is an act. A very cute act but still 100% false. "I already have a watch," he said upon opening the present. Yes, he does have a watch, but it's been broken for about 7 years. I returned both of these 2 days ago.

Those are Toy Story book lights clipped onto Ivan's waistband. He thought himself hilarious. And, gloves...from his stocking of course.

Change of setting: Houston, Texas.

We jumped right into Christmas dinner. All of us in coordinating attire, except for Keith who said navy blue is basically the same as black, hence the reason I am hiding all but his face. I have to add that after lunch I did coerce him into one of his dad's black shirts. At least it didn't have a giant Fox logo across the front. Poor Uncle Tommy sacrificed being part of the picture so we'd have a photographer. No one had thought to get out the tripod yet.

Cousins! Garrison (5), Ivan (3), Avery (4), Addyson (4), Kendall (6)

How cute are we? But, wait! Someone is missing! He was too fast for the camera.

One big happy family, incomplete without that little black and white face on my lap.

The grandparents. Pa Pa and Gu Gu. Wearing age-appropriate head accessories.

Time for the gift-opening mayhem.

Keith's favorite pastime while on the road is taking pictures of those goofy, yet certainly life-changing, church signs and sending them to his BFFs. A little game they play. This book is full of them, and it's the "collector's edition." A few good ones as I flipped through it: "Road Rage? How Would Jesus Drive?" "7 Days a Week Without God Makes One Weak" "God Answers Knee-Mail" Yes, definitely life-changing words.

147 million. That number is astonishing to me. I cannot wrap my brain around it. 147 million kids with no mom or dad. Garrison was telling me a story about "before Ethiopia," which he refers to the time before he arrived at the orphanage....and in the middle of his story, he said, "There was no Mommy." The heart-breaking part is he said it with no emotion, as if it were commonplace. While I'm about to cry recalling this story, Keith is about to cry over seeing this shirt. He's such a softy. And I love it!

The ceremonial receiving of Christmas Eve pajamas! And the mania that ensued the moment they were donned.

I know the question you're asking. Why is Avery standing behind the kid-sized punching toy while Ivan takes a swing at it? I have no clue. This is the effect of having recently gained 2 brothers.

Christmas morning...

Candy canes filled with Hershey Kisses. This was the only gift that prompted all 3 of them to jump up and run to grandparents to express their sincere gratitude. I allowed them to eat as many as they could stomach. I am awesome.

Jesus' Happy Birthday, as the boys referred to the event. Thanks to Gu Gu who didn't use any artificial food coloring with the cake. The boys were a bit disappointed that Jesus didn't "come down" for his party though.

Two peas in a pod. Two very cute peas in that pod.

I am forced to go to the Y to workout anytime we are in Texas. Yes, forced. Every time. But, they have a room of rock-climbing walls for kids 5 and up. Garrison climbed the beginner wall, then the one you see here. The goal is to ring the bell dangling from the stuffed animal at the top. Oh, he did it. Both times.

Gingerbread houses were a catastrophe for the second year in a row. And, all because we are too cheap to buy one at the before-Christmas price. Aunt Renea had purchased these last year for a quarter each. The above picture is the end result of our efforts. Nice, huh.

Ivan spent much of his time in this position, on the table, which is why he has nothing to show in the end.

The grandparents treated everyone to TCBY after the first ever big family photo shoot. Yum.

Our dear friends The Rawlings, also residents of the Houston area, came for a visit with their 3 kiddos since we were in town. We sure do miss them.

Gingerbread house assembly: Take 2. Using graham crackers, homemade cream cheese icing (which I am not recommending for the job) and dye-free edible decorations from the pantry, we let the kids take a stab at this again. Fools we are! The little house above was their example. Perhaps it was too extravagant for them. Yes, that's it. No way the kids themselves could be the problems.

I'm not sure what I've captured below. Is it a house under construction? Is it a proud child's final product? The remnants of someone's snack...someone who decided not to even attempt anything more than icing smeared across the crackers?

But, the kids still had fun. And, because I'm so awesome, I let them eat everything they created. After dinner of course. I am still a responsible parent. Awesome. But responsible.

Careful.

Consumer.

Creative.

These last few are of the girls strutting their stuff and their new fab headband/hats. The epitome of sophistication right here.

Our tree and other Christmas decor stayed up an extra week because we wanted to celebrate Christmas with Ethiopia on January 7th. We couldn't adopt many of their festivities: fasting, marching in circles with candles, no gifts. But we did dress up the kids in authentic Ethiopian attire and read some more about the events surrounding the birth of Jesus. Oh, and pictures in front of the "Christmas treat," as Ivan calls it, for the last time this year.

Are these captured moments making anyone else cry?

Tinkerbells

This past weekend marked the beginning of our month-long celebration for the birth of Jesus.

Task #1: Decorate the tree. The kids had been begging me. Coveting the trees and pretty lights around town. Keith and I had the same attitude: Ahh, do we have to? Seeing how it’s the boys’ first American Christmas…and because we’re not completely horrible parents…we caved.

So, Keith’s absurd idea was to just let them decorate it. Throw out the ornaments as if you would seed for a bird with the kids decorating only what their tinny nubs could reach. The bottom half. Gasp! Not if I have anything to do with it! When the tree was completed to meet my standard, the kids were a bit confused. One by one they went to the tree to proudly point out to Keith or me ornaments they’d hung. Gasp! It’s not there. Why, of course I moved it! I’m a control freak whose desire for perfection is all but debilitating. I was only pretending to let you decorate, Silly.

What began as kids excitedly pulling shimmery and sparkly ornaments from boxes ended with a tangled ball of hooks intertwined in my favorite Sunday “nap blanket.” Oh, yes. Each family member has a nap blanket. Even Keith. Especially Keith. Several times I have shopped specifically for one to suit his needs. Problem is that it’s either a twin-sized throw (um, way too short for him) or a queen/king-sized blanket (which is basically just too cumbersome for his side of the couch). Enter: Miss Barb, Andy’s mom, who after having made blankets for all the kids saw how Keith envied them and made one just his size. Now Goldilocks can finally get cozy for a rest.

Task #2: Put out the remainder, though minimal, of the Christmas décor. I didn’t so much as have the stockings and beaded garland out of the boxes before I faced a barrage of requests: “Yay, Mommy, I wanna wear this one tomorrow” (holding up a giant stocking). Then when I said no, he asked if I was saving it for a dinosaur. “Ooh, these look yummy. Can I have some?” (pointing to the delicious looking icy holly berries that surround a candle display). Any scrap that had the faintest Christmas-y appearance was to be hung or displayed somewhere. Um, no. Do I dare continue the gingerbread house tradition? It is destined to be eaten or destroyed before assembly.

With the utterance of traditions, I had to dig up some pics of Christmas past. The camera battery was dead when I pulled it out to capture the mayhem this year. I know. I should be shot.

Sweet, huh. Back to my story-telling.

The nativity scene stays up all year…partly because I like it…and also because it’s Jesus. I’m just not sure I want to put him in a box for 11 months out of the year. However, with it continuously on display, the boys continuously ask to play with the figurines. I will have to give them credit in that they ask instead of just taking the little sheep and running them around like they do their plastic horses. I do not know what draw Baby Jesus has, but he is the most requested of all the pieces.

Task #3: Explain why the tree and pretty lights. We kicked off Christmas 101 by introducing the boys to the beloved Miss Patty Cake and the somewhat annoying Boz the Bear. Keith despises both of these characters equally by the way. Miss PC is all about Jesus, but Boz intertwines Jesus, the commercialization of Christmas, and general benevolence all into one pretty package. Ugh! Shortly after viewing these movies I heard a familiar tune from Garrison, with not-so-familiar words. “Tinkerbells Tinkerbells, Tinker all the way…” Per Keith’s request…so that our boys aren’t merrily singing a song about fairies…I have now added Christmas carols to the top of my list of instruction. They ‘ve almost got “Away in a Manger” down, and next is “Silent Night.” We may skip “Jingle Bells” altogether though.

Note to families with small children: If you do not know Miss Patty Cake, look her up. And, if you’re in my vicinity, borrow one of our Miss PC DVDs.

With the season and small children, especially new small children, comes the question about jolly ole St. Nick. “Do you do Santa?” they ask. Meaning, do you pretend Santa Claus is real? It is sad to me that he is unavoidable, but the answer is yes, we do pretend there is a Santa. We pretend about Santa in the same way Avery pretends to have conversations with her stuffed animals, in the same way we pretend to have these conversations. I am often left to babysit one of those little guys while she goes off to play with her brothers, and she’s one of those moms who hovers too long and returns several times to make sure her baby is eating or napping when she should be or is swaddled properly. Those moms are so annoying! I wonder where she gets it. Anyway, Avery knows Santa isn’t real, but that it’s fun to pretend.

Here’s why we decided not to encourage her to believe in that fur-trimmed red suit. So, Santa’s this guy we talk about at Christmas. You never get to see him, but we tell you he’s real. He lives at the North Pole and makes all the presents. Everyone loves him and he gives you lots of good things. Sometimes he has a problem with performance-based acceptance: only the “good” kids get presents under the tree.

And then there’s another guy we talk about at Christmas named Jesus. You never get to see him, but we tell you he’s real. He lives in heaven and has made everything you see. Everyone loves him and he does lots of good things. Even though Jesus loves you no matter what bad things you do, we want you to be good for him too, but we’re going to use the word “obey.”

Kids, we’re asking you to believe in both of these good men. Then, in a few years we’re going to break your fragile hearts and tell you one of them isn’t real. We were just pretending because it was fun and everyone else was doing it. Oh, you want to know if the other guy is pretend, too? Well, no, he is real. I promise. Keep believing in him, just not the other guy.

This decision was made based on conversations and advice from a few respected friends. They had each been told to believe in Santa and Jesus. Then, upon finding out that the reindeer, sleigh and bearded man do not exist, they questioned the validity of the stories they’d heard about Jesus. The miracles of his birth, life and resurrection are more unbelievable than a super nice guy who gives out presents and oh, some magic dust to make him fly.

We still do all the fun things for Santa at Christmas, besides sit on his lap. That’s just weird. Maybe if I could see a background check and proof that he’s not on the sex offenders’ registry. Maybe. The kids and I will go to the library to borrow various Christmas books. I found one last year with a great story of the kind, charitable bishop, Saint Nicholas. The night before we are going to open presents, we will make a special card and cookies for “Santa.” Although speaking of cards, we’ve been making them during craft time, and no one recognized the foam Santa head. Avery held it upside down and showed the boys that it was a baby wrapped in a blanket. Correcting her would have begun the questions I am still not ready to answer.

So far this year there has been no allusion to anything “up on the rooftop.” Christmas will be a nice surprise for them. Avery hasn’t even mentioned opening presents. She’s just excited to see some grandparents and cousins. Okay, one thing they are excited about: when talking about Jesus’ birthday, they asked if we were going to have “cupcake.” And, it will likely have icing made with artificial food coloring, which I may or may not scrape off before allowing.

That Darn Napkin!

We returned from holiday traveling on Tuesday at midnight to a house with no food and a thermostat reading 56 degrees. After our world tour and 40 hours in the mini, I have no funny, exciting or disgusting stories to tell. I am just thankful for a trip during which no one projectile vomited from across the vehicle into my bag, that we didn’t blow a trailer tire first on a bridge and then on the exit ramp, that my driving shift occurred during a section with no construction (meaning we didn’t get lost), and, for the first time, I am thankful for boys who poop a lot, which meant more than one potty break in a 12-hour stretch and stops that gave Avery and me a chance to consume a meal in the comfort of a Chick-Fil-A rather than from a moving vehicle.

While in my hometown, I attended the funeral of my ex-brother-in-law. Adding to the tragedy and sorrow of the family and friends was that he committed suicide, leaving no explanation. As I sat behind his mom, brother, daughter and ex-wife, I listened as the pastor attempted to release any person of the guilt imposed by such a death. He explained that in this young man’s case, as is the case with many suicides, there was something evil inside of him…that had eaten away at him for a long time. And, even though Jesus saved him 18 months prior, this evil had such a hold on him that it finally took his life.

On our 12-hour drive home, Keith and I listened to a sermon during which Matt Chandler of the Village Church spoke of a staff member who had recently committed suicide. We didn’t purposefully put it on. That’s just what we do: listen to sermons and books and have some good discussion afterwards. This topic just happened to come up. Anyway, a couple of things Chandler said really stuck out for me: 1) Jesus died on the cross to cover all sins: past, present and future, which includes suicide. 2) If you’re sick, get help. People run to doctors all the time for physical ailments. Why is there such a stigma associated with seeking help for mental illness? If you suspected a broken foot, would you let shame (or whatever) keep you from seeing a doctor? If so, it will never stop hurting and those crutches are going to slow you down quite a bit, keeping you from much of your everyday activity. Why would you go through life suffering from the crazies when there is help available? Whether it’s a minor broken bone or a few irrational thoughts, get help.

I will admit that even I have sought professional help for my mental wellbeing. No, I don’t suffer from depression. My issues stem from anxiety. I know you’re just shocked to learn that. When I first told Keith that I was “getting help,” he begged me not to. He said my neuroses were one of the reasons he fell in love with me. My response: I don’t want to feel like a crazy person anymore. It’s exhausting living life on the brink of insanity, just waiting for some tiny, inconsequential thing (like a napkin left on the ottoman overnight) to send me over a bridge.

On that note, I’m not suicidal either. Right now that bridge is merely metaphorical. However, there was a time when I was young…very young…and probably all the way through high school that I suppose you could call a good portion of my thought life suicidal. During those years I never would have admitted, and honestly didn’t believe, that I would ever follow through with it. But I devoted much of my mental energy on just how I would do “it.” All the different methods, which is the least painful, which is easiest to get, which would make the biggest statement, which would cause my family the least amount of suffering, would I leave a note, if so to whom. The list goes on. Even now I can’t believe how morbid this all sounds! And I was in elementary school when it began for crying out loud! Seriously, what kind of child, or person, thinks like that? A seemingly normal, stable person. That’s who! I mean, do I look like a crazy, suicidal gal to you? Don’t answer that.

This kind of thinking is not “normal.” Normal would mean it’s just fine and dandy. Like Christmas candy. But it probably is more common than anyone thinks. Bottom line, get help if you need it. Even if you think you don’t need it.

I definitely don’t mean to be Debbie Downer. So, here are a few more things for which I am thankful:

• A God who chose me and loved me enough to send his only Son so that I could live and have fellowship with Him.
• Jesus who died on the cross to cover my sins. All of them.
• A magnificent husband who is gifted in countless ways and who I believe could do ANYTHING. Marrying that boy has turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.
• Three disobedient children whom God uses daily to remind me of His love, mercy and grace.

If you are getting used to and possibly looking forward to pictures at the end of each post, I regretfully end this one with none. The only pictures I took over Thanksgiving were with other people’s cameras, and most of them included the kids with their extended canine family members. Still, adorable. Perhaps I will acquire them for a future post.

Who Is Bumblebee?

We tried teaching the boys about Halloween...well, the costume and candy side of it...they're perhaps a little young and lacking in the ole English to understand Reformation Day. Avery got them psyched about getting loads of candy. And instead of letting them watch their current favorite movie, Joseph King of Dreams, I forced them to watch Sid the Science Kid's Halloween episode, which was all about dressing up and NOT looking scary.

We had gone to a Trunk or Treat, a.k.a. Fall Festival, on Sunday as a practice run.

We've got Bumblebee, Ariel, and the untamed dinosaur rider. I say "untamed" because the little dino kept attacking anything that got close to it. The seat in front of him in the van, siblings, the ground, passersby.

It was during the second, last, and lamest game that Ivan won a tiny orange Bible. Like a child on Christmas morning with a favorite new toy, he turned from the prize bin and ran back to me before stuffing it in his pumpkin. That little Bible became the hit of the evening, Ivan's obsession over the next several days, and perhaps the most coveted item among the siblings. Even Garris picked a book resembling a Bible at the library, saying he wanted to take it to church. And, Avery has been tucking in one of her Bibles along with her animals when she makes her bed in the morning.

That girl is so like her momma. Quirky and relentless. Her questions about this utmost important occasion started as soon as the store displays changed from summer to fall. Oh, and of course the racks of costumes helped as well. The daily question: "When do we get to go to Halloween?" I showed her on the calendar that it was still pretty far away, but she just wouldn't give up.

After the...umm...interesting Jesus skit during which we saw him crucified, buried and raised from the dead (all silhouetted behind a white sheet), Garrison was perplexed and deeply concerned about the well-being of both Jesus and God. But the loot he quickly collected helped to assuage his anxiety as he turned to me in amazement after each vehicle to show me what had been dropped into his bucket. Candy!

How innocently it all began.

Then came Halloween night. Dun. Dun. Dun.

I mean, look at that sweetness. All lined up with some friends. Micah, Avery, Ivan, Garris, Wyatt, Bennett, Lilly. Innocent.

They knew their parts: say, "Trick or treat;" hold out the bucket; then say, "Thank you." Easy stuff. And really all you have to do is do what your friends do. Go with the flow. Follow the leader, right? We set out on this festive evening with some nearby friends, hoping their kiddos would be the leaders instead of our hooligans. Well, nothing prepared us for what happened at the first house. Nothing too terrible. Nope. Just embarrassing. The boys, the first timers, plowed through the toddlers struggling in their costumes and walked right in. Yes, into the house. Past the negligent woman who reached for her candy bowl AFTER opening the door. From the sidewalk where we stood, I yelled in shocked awe and Keith took off so he could collect our kids as the homeowner politely shooed them out.

That poor woman. Was this her first Halloween experience? Don't you know to answer the door with candy bowl in hand? Or better yet, intercept the candy-crazed children from the porch. Yes, don't even give them the chance to ring the doorbell.

Back at home, by shoving them through a crack in the door, I let the kids take turns greeting and giving out candy.

Little did they know that Mom was switching out the candy from their buckets with the "safe" candy she purchased...then putting the discarded candy into a special candy bowl not meant for them but for the trick or treaters. What constitutes unsafe candy? Homemade treats from strangers? Nope. Anything unsealed or opened? That's okay, too. Candy that could slide down a toilet paper tube or sucked down a windpipe? Go for it. I know the Heimlich.

Outlawed substances include anything laden with artificial color. Suckers, Skittles, Laffy Taffy, Butterfinger, Nerds. You know the culprits. Yellow #5, Red #40 are just a few. I'd like to throw out artificial preservatives, but they're not as easy to spot.

Some of this exchange went on behind their backs, but I did let them participate and do a little bartering.

When finished with all trades, their buckets were full of acceptable treats. The good stuff. Chocolate. Ahh. Twix, Reese cups, Hershey bars, Snickers.

I let them eat their candy. Don't be shocked. I allowed it at designated times, usually just before they were to brush their teeth. One morning I set the timer and let them eat as much as they could when they finished breakfast. I figure if you eat one piece, you may as well eat a dozen. Right?

A few more pics from the festival:

Decorating their tiny pumpkins: Notice the tools, courtesy of Daddy.

The finished products:

These next two pics are a bit random but too cute to resist sharing. Found them on my phone with the Halloween pics.

No explanation needed on the first one, but the kids and I were dumbfounded by how cute Simon was all snuggled in my favorite blanket and chair. He worked his way into the blanket like that all on his own. A little gift he has.

That's Keith on the left in the pants and me on the right in the skirt and cute belt. Why am I much, much larger than Keith? Avery said I have a giant head and a giant tummy because I'm pregnant. Like the women at church she said. Not true, but there are usually very elaborate stories behind her artwork. Cracks me up that girl. And, to clarify, the prego women we know do not have giant heads, just normal sized bellies.

A few more shots from Halloween night. There is no order to this post.

First stop, Liz and Jonathan's house. I wish I had taken a better picture to include all the decor. It was so cute. The boys are way too interested in their bags of goodies to acknowledge the camera. Notice the difference in how Avery and Garrison are sitting.

The kids did not get the chance to select their Halloween costumes. I know...I'm horrible. I purchased the boys' at the after sale last year. I had no idea what the yellow costume was until Garris was greeted as Bumblebee when receiving some candy. They are not Transformers fans. Haven't even seen the movie. It was the right size and the right price. So it came down to who fits into which costume. And Avery's I found at a consignment sale. It worked out great when I saved it as a birthday present. She just happened to pick Ariel as her theme. Ta da!

We were able to round up another set of hands to help out. A little man-on-man defense. The kids' favorite plaything: Andy.

Even more photos of our fun times this fall. Lilly's pumpkin patch birthday party. It also happened to be a costume party, as usual, but I forgot that detail until I pulled the invitation out of my bag for directions on the drive there. Oops.

Three of the kids favorite people in the world. Miss Courtney and her firefighters Wyatt and Micah.