That's Just How We Do

Chef boy hides in his native environment.

School starts back tomorrow, and I'm having trouble reconciling that knowledge with the fuzzy feelings of warmth that I've been nurturing this Christmas break.  They won't line up: I have to send my kids back?  There must be schedules?  Alarm clocks? 

It's too much. 

I can't rightly explain this break to you.  It has not been perfect.  Some sisters I know have gotten on each other's pretty little last nerves, and one boy in particular seemed rather cooped up.  He became very angry with me for not allowing him to swing his new tennis racket at the Christmas tree.  I think he's over it now, but what I mean to point out is that we haven't had one of those smooth-sailing, everybody-holds-hands-and-kisses-cheeks, we-all-use-our-words, nobody-resorts-to-screaming vacations.  We've had the normal sort.

The first presents.

The Christmas vacation that is imperfect.  Wild.  Headache-inducing and nap-begging.  We've had exactly the break that has seemed so frustrating and disappointing in the past.  It's terrible to admit (but hopefully peace-inducing as well) that all of this time spent with just the kids and I hovering around each other's irritations might not be as wonderful as it's cracked up to be. 

It's not like a magazine (or a Pinterest board....duh).  This is real life, and yeah: there is probably a pile of flour scattered below the kitchen counter, and specks of rock-hard play-doh clinging to the carpet. 

Donkey or horse?  Landon will never tell.

It means we had fun.  We made time, we did stuff, and some of it was awesome, and some of it was boring, and all of it was family. 

Miraculously, I'm growing and learning how to be a mom, just by being around these hooligans.  These girls who yell pasta-la-vista, baby! at the tops of their lungs, and this boy who tries to dive headfirst off the fireplace.  This sister who wants alone time and this sister who craves more people to play with.  This brother who will steal your entire blueberry waffle if you're not careful.

Adding to the blizzardish swirl.

We played and lived this Christmas break, and it was so imperfect that it made me weep during a couple of unguarded moments.  It's happy around here, sometimes in the grumpiest of ways, but it counts because it's right.  And I know sending the girls back into a schedule of school and friends and activities will be right, too, but oh--

The angel on top.

I just want my angels by my side for all of forever.  It's the greediness of a wonderful Christmas break shining through.

A Short List of Thankfuls

1.  I am thankful for hiding places and sunlight and silly kids. 

 

 

2.  I am thankful for hand lotion and humidifiers and steaming cups of hot tea. 

3.  I am thankful for kisses goodnight on early bedtime evenings.

4.  I am thankful for new books.

5.  I am thankful for cheap lipstick.  And plentiful makeup remover.

 

6.  I am thankful for freckled brown bananas and fresh-baked loaves.

 

7.  I am thankful for exclamations of wonder at the first star sighting.

 

8.  I am thankful for the familiar rowdiness of  neighborhood kids.

 

9.  I am thankful for Pioneer Woman's Pasta alla Vodka, and I am thankful for a high metabolism.

 

10.  I am thankful for the impossible colors of autumn.

 

 

11.  I am thankful for in-laws and extendeds and might-as-well-be-families.  I am thankful for hugs.

 

12.  I am thankful for a patient God, who allows me to question and falter and downright ignore, all in a quest for understanding.

 

13.  I am thankful for love.

 

14.  I am thankful for belly-laughs and tickle-monsters and chasing naked babies.  I am thankful for playing.

 

15.  I am thankful for blue skies and black skies.  I am thankful for white clouds and no clouds.  I am thankful for wind advisories and utter stillness.

 

16.  I am thankful for flying.

 

17.  I am thankful for history lessons and comic relief.

 

18.  I am thankful for jeans (and not skirts) and flats (and not heels). 

 

19.  I am thankful for tangled feet under extra blankets.

 

20.   I am thankful for slow motion memories.

Halloween 2012: I Am Thankful

I started writing this last Thursday, on Bigger Picture day, and THIS is how long it's taken me to finish!  But I still had to share it :)

 

 

I'm usually lamenting our holidays in retrospect to some degree.  I blame the temper of an overtired toddler or the noise of an oversugared preschooler or the manners of an overindulged big kid. 

 

 

It all leaves me feeling like either my planning isn't good enough or my kids are too difficult.  I want it all to be perfect, because It's a holiday, dangit.  And holidays are where memories are captured.  THESE days will be remembered and laughed about and cherished.

 

 

Unless mama loses her cool, which has been happening with frustrating regularity. 

 

 

So I don't know what happened this year.  I really don't. 

 

There were frantic, irritated moments and the usual meltdowns about not being allowed to eat ALL THE CANDY.  There was a costume malfunction.  There was a refusal to wear the headpiece or carry the parasol (which cost an extra ten and twenty dollars each and were therefore representative of the crown jewels of Halloween).

 

Oddly enough, none of that really mattered.  It registered as normal and acceptable and right on my sliding scale of holiday magic. 

 

 

So when it came time to blow out the jack-o-lanterns and turn off the porch lights and revel in the craziness that was our neighborhood on Halloween night...

 

 

we were only left with thankfulness.  We ran out of candy after two hundred trick-or-treaters, our kids stayed up too late and ate too much sugar and were too shy to say thank you on more than one occasion.  There was an angry little boy who stomped away from our empty candy bowl.  There were late-night doorbell ringings past bedtime.  There was much, much, exhaustion. 

 

And it was all just right.  As it should be.

 

 

A holiday chock full of imperfections, that didn't measure up in all the right places, actually turned out to be cherishable after all.  It was amazing.  It was a relief. 

 

The only expectation I had was that it would be a wild ride.  Bumpy, curvy, sometimes speeding, sometimes crawling, and unquestionably wild.  And that made it perfect after all. 

Halloween 2012: The Photo Shoot Edition

"Lauren, what would you like to say about your Halloween yesterday?"

 

Hmmm...I would say...it was GOOD!

 

 

"Why was it so good?"

 

Because I got candy! 

 

 

"What else?" 

 

And I got to fly around like a beautiful butterfly all day!

 

 

"You did!  What else did you like?"

 

I liked ALL the costumes.  Mia's costume had a parasol that I loved (and I even want to HAVE it!), and Bubby's costume had a pet Snoopy, and THAT was what I liked.

 

 

"Do you think you can wait a whole year for another Halloween to happen?"

 

Hmmm...Yeah.  I can. 

 

 

"You can?!  Why?!"

 

Because you're not SUPPOSED to have THAT much fun on regliar (regular) days! 

 

"So it was a fun Halloween?"

 

It was the BEST HALLOWEEN EVER!

Bigger Picture Moment: Bigness

To me, she is little.  She waits at the door, leaning to get a glimpse of  the Easter-egged yard past the other kids' shoulders.  Little hands grip a wicker basket, little feet shuffle, a little nervous smile flits. 

Then, with a burst, the children pour through the shadows and dissolve into the sunlight.  Mia is flustered from all the opportunity nestled in the grass.  She switches direction twice before finally bearing down upon a pastel egg.  Once in her hands, she drops it into her basket and takes off for more.  The other kids are ants swarming an outdoor picnic.  Arms and legs flailing, eyeball-antennas focused on the prize. 

Mia drops to her knees for a royal blue plastic egg.  She lifts it to the sky, smiling.  Mama!  It's a TINY one!  And it is; the egg would only hold a teaspoon of sugar if it came to such a measurement.  She is beside herself with pleasure.  The unusual.  The miniature.  It is hers.  She nestles it within her basket's paper grass and scurries away, hunched over in pursuit. 

Then, from the porch: Big kids, be sure to leave the easy eggs for the little kids to find, okay?

Mia pauses.  She glances into her two-egged basket.  She reaches inside while the rest of the smiling ants continue to swarm, and she picks up her tiny egg -- the easy egg.  Her legs turn and she skips back to the clump of grass recently freed of its treasure.  I hear her mutter, alright, little egg...

My heart twists; she thinks she is big.  I heard the reminder about big kids and little kids differently, and this is my everyday knowledge: Mia is my baby.  She is my tiny egg.  A white sun is perched directly above her dark-coppery head and she thinks she is big.  Cousins twelve inches taller than her are jumping for eggs in tree branches and she thinks she is big.   Her basket is nearly empty while the other gatherers have almost filled theirs and she thinks she is big.

She was willing to give up her tiny, blue egg.  The one that caused her eyes to widen and her heart to show behind those glittering irises.  She would have been content if the hunt had ended then, with the teaspoon-sized egg nearly alone in her basket. 

But she separates the grassy border at her feet, wedges the egg back into new-green blades, goes off in the direction of kindness.

She is big, I think.  She is.




We're seeing the Bigger Picture through simple moments -- moments that force us to stop and take notice of the ways our worlds are important, meaningful, and beautiful. Please join us at Alita's place today! Grab the button, link up, and read a few others to encourage them as they walk this journey of intentional living.

Easter Memorandum

Easter with three kids was somewhat more intimidating than Easter with two.  Breakfast and worship and egg hunts and lunch and celebrations

and massive ingestion of pure sugar by the big kids all had to be choreographed with the baby's naptime needs in consideration.  Which meant...

that the sweet baby was tired from sunup to sundown and the big girls were hyper at exactly the same time.  But it was a good Easter.  A blessed Easter.  A colorful, hopeful Easter.

Followed by a beautifully early bedtime. 

How about you -- was your Easter slow or jammed or peaceful or loud or candy-filled or feast-filled?  However you celebrated, I hope you felt God's perfect love surrounding you!

The Christmas That Was

Oh, the noise, noise, Noise, NOISE!

Just kidding.  We actually had a fantastic Christmas, with only a (great big) bit of craziness.  The usual amount, for us. 

But the fun!  That was above average.

Have a look-see:

 

 

And then we broke for Christmas Tea and waffles.  Seriously.  There was time for that because I refused to go batty over the mountains of gift wrap littering our living space.  Tea calmed me right down. 

And then we stared at the pretty baby.  Something every holiday celebration could use a little extra of, in my completely unbiased opinion.

 

Still, there was more.  More presents, more family, more crazy....

 

And...

more pretty baby.

It was a fantastic day.  Blessings flew around all over the place.

We caught them in our hearts (and on our memory disks).

Hope your Christmas was wonderful, friends!

A Holiday Exclamation from Mia

*sigh*

Great gracious.

I do apologize that you've had to witness

such craziness around here.

But rest assured...

I'm here to keep things normal.

I'm here to be angelic.

I'm here...

to open presents.

And if everyone around me

is driven wild by Christmas,

I'll just have to remind them...

to be cool.

Just.  Be.  Cool.

And have a VERY Merry Christmas!

A Holiday Exclamation from Lauren

Yo, yo, yo!

It's gettin' crazy up in here!

Mom's playin' Christmas carols

like, WOW!

I mean, I love a good Santa song

but...

when Mom starts dancing

well...

things get all WHACKED OUT!!

So I figure

if you can't beat 'em

JOIN 'EM.

Merry Christmas!

A Holilday Exclamation from Landon

Oh, snap! 

It's almost Christmas,

and Mom has yet to bake anything...

wrap anything...

or decorate anything!

(Except the tree, I mean.)

Could it be?

That she is using all of her veritable mom-perfection

to cuddle

and snuggle

and laugh

and coo...

with ME?!

Yup.

Pro'lly so.

Merry Christmas, ya'll.

Peace on earth and...

Peace out!

'Twas the Write Before Christmas: Day 2

...Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel...

Cruel it may be, yet lovely -

Whispers of crystal and ice.

Feathered,

frozen,

fragile;

fragmented with gleaming light.

It is a damp breath exhaling -

cold silence trembling down.

Caressing,

covering,

crispening;

ruining green into brown.

Need an outlet for your creativity this Christmas?  Inspiration that may channel your unshared gifts into fruition?  Join us at Bigger Picture Blogs this week for 'Twas the Write Before Christmas, and spread your gifts!  Be inspired, take a break from the busyness, and give life to your ideas....we can't wait to see what you come up with!

This is How People Go Crazy

Step 1: Agree to take a road-trip on a holiday weekend with a 7-week-old baby boy and his two sick sisters.  Wait patiently on the morning-of to ascertain that the 5-year-old will be able to travel without (a) vomiting or (b) crying.  Hit the road.

Step 2: Be sure to forget 3 out of 4 toothbrushes and mom's deodorant.  Remember the snack bag at the expense of proper hygiene.

Step 3: Plan to stop every 55 minutes for either bathroom breaks, bottom-wiggle breaks, baby-nursing breaks, or wrong-turn breaks.

Step 4: Fail to make time adjustments based on gale-force winds and driving rain on the highway.  (But be thankful for the loudly lashing raindrops which help the baby sleep for the first half of the drive.  They help mask the constant cries from the back seat which holds the world's most lovably impatient sisters.)

Step 5: Let the 5-year-old sleep on the floorboards of the car at a rest stop until her headache goes away.  Be worried that you'll never arrive at your destination.

Step 6: Treat the kids to your evil foe: happy meals with zero nutritional redeeming value, and 100% unknown food(ish) substances because you are SURE the Hello Kitty toys will erase the misery of the road-trip.  Watch as both kids refuse most of the nasty food.  Watch as one kid doesn't even open her Hello Kitty toy.  Watch her cry from a returned headache.

Step 7: Enjoy your visit with family.  Laugh and hug and converse.  Say goodbye too soon.

Step 8: Turn around 27 hours after your journey began, and head home.

Step 9: Wonder what that blinking light on your dashboard is indicative of.  Pull out the Nissan owner's manual.  Stop at a gas station to check the tire pressure -- use your magical pressure-reading skillz because you don't own a pressure gauge.

Step 10: Repeat step 3.

Step 11: Be pleased when the baby finally nurses for a good, looong stretch of time because the car is otherwise empty (and peacefully quiet); the big kids are playing on the grass beside a gas station with your good-sport of a husband.  Leave the gas station after a 30 minute layover.

Step 12: As soon as you hit the highway again, wait for your brain to ooze from your ears when your 3-year-old forces an emergency U-turn to the SAME gas station you just vacated.  Clench your jaw because you know she can't help her body's urges.

Step 13: Wait in a line of grumpy women in a 3-stall restroom wherein 2 stalls are made unusable due to lack of toilet paper and one stall is occupied with a long-suffering (and probably embarrassed, poor thing) mother and her young son. 

Step 14: Take your turn in the stall (finally).

Step 15: Lose the jaw-clenching contest when your 3-year-old declares she doesn't, after all, have to go number two.

Step 16: March back to the vehicle.  Switch drivers.

Step 17: Return to the highway.

Step 18: Remember that it's dinner time.

Step 19: Drive immediately to the nearest mental-health facility and check yourself in.  Call grandma to pick up the kids.  Tell her they're hungry.  And they probably have to go number two.

Step 20: Drool.  Care not.

Tiddly Bits

:::  Oh, Thanksgiving.  It went like this: baking all morning while the baby napped restlessly, joining the extended family for late lunch and elbowing each other through the food line to hurry up!, partying our way through the annual ping-pong tournament, holding a (still) restless baby (and finally downloading a white-noise app to my phone to help him take a tiny nap,) trying one bite of every dessert...twice, congratulating my ping-pong winning husband, rolling home in a food-and-fun stupor, and falling into bed. 

There was a lot of thankfulness twisted into each piece of our day; I was utterly, perfectly, exhaustedly happy.



::: Do you ever read Sarah at The Unwrapping?  I don't know how to explain...but...she kind of blows my mind.  I leave there feeling intimidated by her perfectly gorgeous writing, and thinking I should just stop writing altogether if there are people out there like her...  I vow not to return too often because my heart can't take the ache of knowing how my words compare to hers.  And then I think: why is there a comparison?  We're different.  That's okay.  She's lovely.  I'm...different.  Stop fretting.

So I go back again and again because she pulls me there, and now I need to take you with me.  You should read this.  And this.  Go!  Shoo!  (I mean, as soon as you're done here!)



::: Now, for something a bit more serious.

If you've tried to call my house lately and I haven't answered the phone, don't feel bad:

You're not alone.  I don't answer the phone these days.  And since this 19 has been flashing on our screen for over a week now, I assume the memory is full and the elderly messages are all, now, obsolete.  I'll delete them eventually so more can take their place...

Don't call here, I guess. I'd hate to disturb the thick layer of dust that's coating our telephone. 


::: Hello, handsome.

::: Now, since all THREE of my children are currently in the closed-eye position (due, no doubt, to an overindulgent and looooong Thanksgiving yesterday -- hooray for holidays!), I think I'll take up the pose as well.  G'night. 

Er, G'day.

Whatever.....zzzzzzz.....

One (Neverendingly Long) Heavenly Halloween

In short-captioned photos, because the day was too long and tiring for this mama to have many intelligible words to share.  But when the pictures are THIS cute...

I don't think you'll mind.

One Kindergarten parade for a shy peacock...

One sleepy, snuggle-worn baby...

(Thanks to Alita, Hyacynth, Melissa, and Lenae for the gorgeous sling!)

One Kindergarten class party...

One Preschool class party...

One wide-awake, patient boy...

One pumpkin hat...

(Courtesy of the ever-talented and kind Corinne of A Soft Landing!)

One adoring sister...

One FINAL pose before the trick-or-treating extravaganza...

One hold my hand, mama! from a sometimes-frightened ladybug...

And one holy cow, we'll all die from sugar poisoning moment at day's end.

We hope your Halloween was as happy as ours was!  And PLEASE, if you have a shortage of candy at your place, let me know.  I'll mail you a few gallons of ours...