Let It Snow ... and All That Goes With It

My kids ventured out to play in the snow for the first time this season. They are not like "normal" children, donning boots and other accouterments with the sighting of the first flake, and then remaining outside for the next two hours. No, these two enjoy the novelty of it for about 30 seconds and that's enough. Well, to be fair, I think Grace would enjoy a longer play-time out in the newly-fluffed back yard, but since she is of an age where she follows Big Brother around -- and he is (unfortunately) proving to be an in-doorsman -- she doesn't enjoy being out there by herself.

Their excitement was contagious this morning as the snow fell harder and harder, and began to pile up a couple of inches. For about 15 minutes, we set about the sweat-inducing task of tugging on boots, mittens, snow pants, and so on ... and then I pushed them out the door.

Ahhhh ... quiet ... peace ... Perhaps I can get something done.

"Mommy! My mitten fell off!"

Fix the mitten.
Ahhh ... back to the peace ... I put a few misplaced toys away.

"Mommy! Come look at my snow angel!"

Walk to the window. Give a thumbs up.
I went to check my email ... and got as far as sitting down.

"Mommy! We need our shovels!"

Run to the basement. Grab shovels and dispense.
I have a few bills to pay ...
I got as far as getting the bills out.

"Mommy! I need a carrot!"

Grab a few baby carrots out of the fridge. Open up the window and dispense.
Back to the bills ...

"Mommy! We need the slide!"

Where is that peace and quiet?!

Find my boots and tug them on. Go outside and get laughed at by Grace, who thinks it's hilarious that my hair is turning white. Drag the huge plastic slide into the middle of the yard so they can slide down and land in the snow. Go back inside, take off my boots ...

Where was I?!

"Mommy! We're done playing outside!"

I used to love winter ...
Now -- not so much.

Closing

I'm having a very difficult time wrapping my head around the fact that today is New Year's Eve ... again ... another closing of a year's worth of life, love, tears, laughter, struggle, and joy. My coffee has not achieved its purpose yet, waking me up enough to wax poetic about this most symbolic of days. Maybe later.

Right now it's dark, and the snow is drifting down at a nice clip, already covering the ground. The weather forecasters have not been calling for anything drastic -- a couple of inches at most, followed by rain. A typical NJ version of "winter" -- a heavy pile of nasty slush to shovel up. But for now, it looks beautiful.

After working at home for the past week, Don is going back to the job site today. The family for whom he's been slaving away were "blessed" by Santa this year, acquiring many more new games for their children to use in any one of their various gaming rooms. The problem is, every time they get a new game -- or anything electronic, for that matter -- they have to hire someone to load it into the system and make it work. There's something very strange about that ... but this is what puts food on our table, so off he goes. I just hope he comes home at a decent time tonight and doesn't need to put in another 18 hours for some ridiculous toy.

My parents are planning on leaving later today for their annual New Year's celebration with friends who retired to a beautiful mountain home in the Poconos. For their sakes, I hope the snow lets up a bit and travel is easy. If not, they'll be stranded here for the weekend.

So what's on tap for us on this final day of 2009? I have some more Christmas clean-up to attend to, now that "the poor old tree," as Grace has been referring to it in great mourning, is outside in the driveway. In order to maintain some of the beauty of the season, bringing a little festive light into our winter-dark home, I set up our little 3-foot fake tree inside the house, decorating it only in crocheted snowflakes. "It's our snow tree!" I announced happily, perfect for the winter season ... as well as for any potential allergies that might have flared up. (Although speaking of allergies, my mom informed me that the "reaction" could have come about not from the tree itself, but from the preservatives that they spray on it. A friend of hers told her of other instances like that, so there's hope yet!)

Tonight Don and I will continue our annual New Year's Eve celebration, treating ourselves to a delectable feast after the kids go to bed. Our menu this year involves two beautiful cuts of filet, along with lobster risotto. I cheated on the dessert, purchasing individual slices of Edward's chocolate cream pie -- just thaw a bit and eat. Later on we'll pick out our movie from AppleTV, and as usual I'm sure we'll fall asleep long before the ball drops at midnight. We've given that up years ago, for we learned the hard way that the kids could care less if we decide to stay up past midnight -- they're going to get up at the crack of dawn, regardless of when we finally close our eyes. Until they learn how to sleep in, I can't afford that withdrawal from the sleep bank.

Ah, yes ... the closing of another year. And not only of a year, but of a decade. I heard a report on NPR yesterday refer to this as The Decade of the Big Nothing -- or something along those lines, a decade where nothing really good or positive happened, and a lot of really horrible things occurred. Could that possibly sum of our own personal decade? In a way, yes -- until the very end, that is, when 2009 brought redemption ... and a new embracing of life. Hmmm ... Let me grab some more coffee and I'll muse about this for a while.

In the meantime, thoroughly embrace this last day of the year!

It's Coming Down

I think this is a new record for me, taking down the Christmas tree before the year has ended.

But it's gotta come down ... I can't take my cranky girl any more. I'm about 90% sure she's allergic to it, for over the course of these past few weeks she has truly turned into some kind of girlie Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. She's not all prickers and thorns, but when she's off ... watch out. Those moments have been far from enjoyable.

Upon watching her closely, it seems almost as if she can't even stand herself. She's not irritable or cranky or contrary by nature, yet that easy-going, lovin' life spirit is quite often nowhere to be found. She seems uncomfortable in her own skin, wanting to be her usual jolly self yet struggling to find it.

At least, I'm hoping ...

If the tree comes down, however, and she remains this way, we're in trouble. Until she "grows out of it," that is.

I too haven't been feeling well ... outrageously tired, crashing thunderously around mid- to later afternoon, feeling as if I'm stuffed full of cement as I try to drag myself around the house -- not unlike how I've been feeling in the fall. I want to blame it on the parties, on the socializing, on the kids ... yet there's this tiny little corner in the back of my brain which is posing the dreaded question: am I too reacting to this tree? If so, though, why now, after all these years? I wonder how I'll be feeling in about a week's time when this drooping, sad, past-its-prime tree leaves our living room.

I'm feeling a bit Scroogish with these too-early plans of removal, but my feelings of desperation to get our life -- at least the interior part of it -- back to some sense of normalcy is reigning supreme. And I hope and pray the physical symptoms follow suit.

It Ain't Over ...

This was by far one of the busiest Christmas seasons in recent memory. I'm sure -- scratch that, I know -- we've had busier holidays when Don was a priest, officiating two Christmas Eve services (including the old tried-and-true midnight service for those 5 die-hards in the congregation who had been doing that "for generations") followed by a Christmas morning service for the other 5 die-hards (who had been doing that "for generations"). Throw in a few parties, two exhausted children, and a frantic loading up of the car so we could zip home to NJ immediately following the Christmas Day service, throwing a be-robed Don into the car where he would promptly sleep for the two-hour drive in a desperate effort to recuperate from this "most wonderful time of the year" ... yes, fond -- if not frantic -- memories of Christmases Past ...

OK, so this had been the busiest Christmas in the past three years since we've been here in NJ, with no major church responsibilities and no robes and no die-hards to contend with. Just family and friends. Aaahhhh ... busy, yes, but relaxing and just plain old fun! But it's not over yet. I've had the weekend to recuperate a bit, sleeping as much as I possibly can (I'm also battling a cold which refuses to vacate the premises) and slowly trying to get my little house back to normal.

Tonight my oldest friend on the planet is coming over with her husband for a cozy, relaxing evening of laughter and catching up. She has been living in Iowa for the past ... well, too many years, but Christmas is our main get-together time. In years past we had frequented our local diner for breakfast, but now with Don actually working ... at a real job ... we have had to come up with other ways of getting together. But it's not where you are, it's who you're with ... We're all looking forward to our annual reunion tonight.

This weekend my in-laws are supposed to come up for a visit, bringing in the New Year together as well as opening up some belated Christmas gifts. Yet with some kind of snow storm on the way, I have a feeling this gathering will be postponed. We certainly don't want them driving in the snow, nor do we want to tackle the same feat and reverse the plans by traveling down there. Looks like we might all be making alternative plans -- my parents are planning on traveling to the Poconos this weekend, but with snow on the way I doubt that will happen. "Flexible" has indeed become my middle name.

Today is a day full of much-needed errands and much-needed cleaning. Procrastination doesn't really have a place on my to-do list so I'd better get moving. And yet somehow I feel as if I'm still on some kind of vacation ... I just wish my kids understood that a little bit better.

And Speaking of Blossoming ...

Aidan hasn't actually verbally expressed an interest in this (yet), but I find him reaching for the camera as often as he can. The boy isn't bad! At the age of 4, when he first handled the instrument during a walk in our park, I was amazed at some of the shots he took, what was piquing his little sense of visual aesthetics. He has a rather good eye at catching certain angles, and while at first glance his "subject matter" usually tends to completely random, I find it interesting to see what is capturing his attention ... and what he wants to capture on film. Or, rather, pixels.

Here's a photographic story that Aidan told the other day -- I didn't even know it was there until I downloaded the photos last night. Pretty clever ...

The Battle Between Good and Evil begins ...
Obi-Wan Kenobi faces off against the new toy in the family, the creepy (yet oddly cool) General Grievous
(OK, he probably could have had a more effective scene had he not had to content with My Little Pony as a backdrop ...)

"You may be tall ... and creepy ... and oddly disconcerting ... but I have The Force!"

Obi-Wan Kenobi stands at the ready, confident, cool, and collected while the Evil Grievous waves his many arms at him ...

And once again, Good triumphs over Evil ... minus a body part as well.

Blossoming

For me, as a mother, I am thoroughly enjoying this period in my children's lives. They're young enough yet to be "babied" upon occasion -- words like cuddling and snuggling still apply -- yet they're old enough to be articulate and to express their likes and dislikes.

One thing I have been keeping a subtle yet keen eye out for is any budding interest they might have in some kind of activity. In the fall, we took advantage of Aidan's complete lack of fear when it comes to public presentations and enrolled him in a short, six-week drama course which he enjoyed. Since then, he has gained even more confidence, and with his uncanny natural ability to project his little voice effortlessly, whether singing or speaking, he has both accepted and sought out opportunities to get in front of a microphone. He relished his performance in his school's Christmas Chapel program; he fully embraced his role as "Head Holy Angel" in his Sunday School Christmas program as well. And when the Christmas Eve service rolled around, and Don discovered they were short a few readers, he piped up, "Can I do it, Daddy?" If he continues to show an interest, we will continue to provide those avenues for him.

A new interest has recently surfaced for my boy, one which thrills me to no end, for unlike my absolute dread of being in the public eye (and therefore not sharing his interest in that department), this latest request is one that I can indeed share with him and honestly can't wait to do so if the opportunity arises. On Saturday, my nephew Steven celebrated his 6th birthday, so our whole family (at least those of us in this particular state) trucked over to his house for a party. He had received a Wii system for Christmas, and the cousins were very excited to set it up and show him how it works. As you can imagine, Aidan was right there, front and center. And out of all the sports games that came with the package, there was one in particular that he couldn't tear himself away from: tennis!

This is a sport I love, one which I have played for much of my teenage years and into my 20's. I haven't played in a long, long time yet the love and knowledge of the game remains strong. My eyes were glued to the screen, part of me wanting to jump up and take a turn, yet my dominating sense of self-consciousness prevented me from doing that in front of 15 other people. But what started out as entertainment suddenly turned into a kind of critical watching for me, for I saw that my boy had naturally picked up on some key elements of the game. Granted, it's just computerized and far from "real life," yet despite the fact that he has never played before, his timing was spot-on. He knew just how long to wait before he swung his "racket," and he was winning game after game. The more he won, the more confident he became, and by the time we made him turn it off he was flushed but beaming. I wasn't going to let that little exercise go unnoticed.

Later that evening, after we returned home, I talked to him about the game. He said he loved it, and asked if someday he could take lessons "to play for real." I couldn't help but smile, thinking that if this does work out, what fun times we can have together on the courts. That is, until it stops being fun to be seen in public with Mom.

Grace, too, is starting to blossom and take interest in certain activities. She too has a great attraction to the microphone and will snap up any opportunity in which she can perform in public. She had no trouble keeping up with "the big kids" in the Christmas program at church, singing her little heart out. In fact, during rehearsal at one point, she suddenly sat down and start crying. When the Kids Church director tried to comfort her and asked her what was wrong, Grace sobbed, "But I want a speaking part too like the other kids!" She was keenly aware that she was the only angel who didn't have a bit of monologue, and it stung deeply. And later on, at the same rehearsal, after singing one particular song as gustily as she could, the director told her to stop shouting. Shouting?! Grace was stunned, eyes wide with disbelief, and so very deeply offended. She wasn't shouting -- she was singing! She sat down and, once again, cried. Thankfully another teacher went over to her, gave her hug, and encouraged her to sing as loudly as she wanted to, for it was coming from her little heart.

Last night, as we watched The Nutcracker, we couldn't keep her -- or her brother either, for that matter -- on the couch. Both of them were dancing around the living room, doing their own versions of ballet that were absolutely hilarious, yet we dared not laugh. Their faces were very serious and they were clearly not trying to be funny. If we laughed, we would have broken that spell, and self-consciousness would have immediately stopped their valiant efforts. Grace was ... well, graceful, and the music was clearly flowing effortlessly through her little soul. I'm going to keep that keen, watchful eye out for her now, wanting to open doors for her when the time comes ...

Yes, this is a wonderful time in these little lives, and I truly hope and pray that we will be able to give them what they need, should they ever express in an interest in traveling down a particular path. Yet right now I have to figure out how to put up a road block on one particular path that they have mastered all too well -- squabbling with each other. Too much excitement, too much sugar, and a broken up routine have proven to make this Monday already a day of bickering. And we've got a long, long, long week of vacation to go ...

"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year..."

I realized that in all of the craziness leading up to Christmas -- and especially during Christmas itself -- I couldn't be All Things At All Times. Hostess, yes ... photographer, no. Alas, Christmas 2009 has proven to be quite thin in the photographic memory department. The kids and I just dumped whatever we had, and as usual we got quite a good laugh out of what was captured. I do love these crazy kids ...

The Festivities started a bit early this year -- first thing Christmas Eve morning. I guess that's not such a bad thing ... that one Star Wars figure and that one Littlest Pet shop creature kept them occupied for a long, long time.

Poor Jack had more than his fair share of excitement ...

The highlight of the kids' Christmas this year -- their very own Nutcrackers.

Another fun addition -- the Rudolph figures (Grace's favorite seasonal movie)

And let the sugar highs begin!

Crazy kids, but faces of joy (well, sort of ...). This was, indeed, one of the happiest holidays we've had in a long, long time. Now, as I'm writing this, we're watching The Nutcracker ballet (slash movie) that Don downloaded from Hulu ... one of the better and more enjoyable versions I've seen, and the kids are loving it, although at the scary parts Grace is burrowing her head in Don's arms (that Mouse King can be quite frightening). Their toy Nutcrackers are watching along, and we're all relishing this after-glow from Christmas.

Merry, merry ...
We don't want it to end.

"... and to All a Good Night!"

Having crossed the threshold into sheer-exhaustion status, I will write down some of our post-Christmas hilarity, to sum up one of the most wonderful Christmas celebrations we've had in years.

And when it comes to hilarity, Grace is usually at the center.

I have been battling a nagging cold these past few days, and tonight I crashed. I laid on the floor while Grace hovered, pulling out her doctor kit and getting to work. At one point she paused from her ministrations and frowned.

"I don't know why people keep calling me 'Mary Christmas' -- they must think I'm one of Santa's helpers. But I'll tell you ... I quit!"

****************************
At bedtime, I sat in my usual spot between the two kids, reading a story about the three Wise Men. "And they came to the city of ..." I paused, trying to prompt Grace to fill in the blank.

"Bethlehem," she responded.

"Nope," I said. "They went there later. Where did they go first?"

"I don't know," she said.

"OK, well, who was the king?" I asked, trying a different tactic.

"David!" shouted Grace.

"No, Herod!" piped in Aidan.

"Right," I said. "Now, Grace, where did King Herod live? Juh -- ... Juh -- ..."

"JAMAICA!"

****************************
And if nothing else, this will tell you how absolutely exhausted I am. We finished our routine by praying together, and I launched into our familiar opener:

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
Let Jesus watch me through the night ...

Here I was supposed to say "Until I wake in morning light." But instead, in my cold-ridden haze, I mumbled ...

"Until I wake in forty nights."

****************************
I hope you all had the happiest Christmas!
I am off for that oft-repeated "long winter's nap ..."

The Ice-Heart Melteth

I caved -- big time.

Out of every item on his cutely-written gift list, Aidan really wanted one in particular, more than anything else -- a small, soft, plush toy from the Sonic collection. He already has Sonic the Hedgehog and his nemesis (at least, I think it is -- I'm not so "up" on these things) Shadow the Hedgehog. The remaining character is Sonic the Werehog, and he has been begging for this little $8 toy for months.

A few weeks ago, when I went Christmas shopping, I searched Toys R Us high and low for this little creature, with no luck. I tried another store with the same results. I searched their website, only to find out that this particular item is out of stock everywhere. By this point I was tired, annoyed, and indifferent. This is yet another good "life lesson," I said to myself. You don't always get what you want.

In these few wobbly years as a mom, I have found real value in using these teachable moments to help shape my children's character. Are they easy, these lessons? Not in the least. And as my kids get older, the lessons become a little more difficult, more complicated. I am finding in myself that I do tend to err on the side of being a little tough when it comes to these kinds of situations. When we go somewhere -- say, to a museum -- my kids have learned to not even bother asking for things in the gift shop. Sure, we might walk through it but we don't buy anything. Was that easy? No way -- part of me wished I could shower every twinkly object and enticing toy that caught my children's eyes. Yet some of this "tough" resolve stems from necessity -- we can rarely afford it, and we certainly don't need it. Ah yes, that often painful balance between "wants" and "needs." They might think they need that 5-foot-tall stuffed dinosaur, but I doubt their very life's existence sincerely needs it.

And then come those rare moments when I have to make that choice between being "tough" with our life lessons, and caving just a bit. That moment came today. As I was trying to tug on Aidan's snowpants and boots, he chatted delightedly about the wrapped gifts under the tree. "I can't wait until Christmas!" he bubbled with glee. "I told all my friends that I was finally getting Sonic the Werehog, and I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it!"

I stopped mid-tug and looked at my boy. He was positively shining, innocent, his excitement in such a small, inconsequential creature too radiant to hold in. And yet ... there is no Sonic the Werehog under the tree. Despite months of pleading, months of trying so hard to be patient, it still isn't there. In that moment, I decided I had to tell him. I couldn't bear the thought of him tearing through all of the other gifts, only to find that one missing. Besides, he'd certainly be in a better frame of mind now to hear the news, rather than later.

He's a rational kid -- he'll understand. I explained to him that the stores were sold out, and that the website couldn't ship it. I even showed him the web page, where "Out of Stock" glared at him in big red letters. He was silent for a bit, taking it all in. I certainly wasn't emotional about it, delivering my usual lines -- it's OK to be disappointed, I understand, but we need to make the right choices in how we react to that disappointment ... Sometimes we don't always get what we want, and we need to accept that ...

The speech didn't work this time. Oh, he heard me, all right. Yet when I saw that little lower lip begin to curl, those huge brown eyes fill with tears, that sweet head slowly sink into his hands, and when I heard those first sobs escape his little broken heart ... I realized my tough mom-resolve was beginning to crack. My ice-heart melted. I caved. This was not a boy whining because he couldn't get his way, nor spilling out crocodile tears because he couldn't get what he wanted. For some reason known only to him, this boy who sometimes struggles to play with toys and usually doesn't care too much about stuffed animals had truly set that sweet little heart on this creature. Those tears were so real, those sobs coming from the depths of his little being.

I gathered him up into my arms, my usual speech completely gone by this point. I got up, took him by the hand, and went over to the computer. He stood next to me, sobs subsiding into a breathy hiccup, a few tears still running down his cheeks. I searched ebay and there it was -- a brand new Sonic the Werehog, buy it now, for several dollars less than the Toys R Us price. I looked at Aidan, and he turned his big glistening eyes to me. He didn't ask for anything. Instead, in that silent moment between us, I just gave. I wanted to give.

I cherish these "life lessons," for more often than not I find that I am the one learning, as I am doing the teaching. And the innocent joy on my boy's still-damp face was well worth the clicking of the "Buy It Now" button. This was not a lesson lost today. This was a moment won, a sweet transaction between a melting mom and her precious boy.

Getting Ready ...

And the countdown begins!

I'm quite excited about hosting Christmas dinner at our house this year, yet I'm finding that my entertaining skills have rusted a bit over the years. I'm not as quick-minded as I had been in the past, when this kind of thing was a fairly common occurrence during my "Pastor's Wife" days. What makes it a bit trickier this time around is that I can't do much ahead of time. I can't clean the house, because what will be our "dining area" is ... well, our entire house -- buffet-style, spread out all over the place. Yet I can't leave everything to, literally, the last minute, so this will prove to be an interesting juggling act.

I did a bit of cleaning this morning, hitting some out-of-the-way spots that no one would ever see ... except the Dutch Women-Folk in my family, of course, who somehow see everything. The high point of my day was dusting off the bin of my Christmas dinner-wear, plates and glasses and platters and serving dishes that have not seen sunlight in three years. Setting up the borrowed folding table from a friend, I covered it with a tablecloth and began to set out the platters and serving plates, dotting them with sticky notes designating their purpose: the large clear glass platter will display the roasted red pepper and goat cheese crostini; the smaller white platters will offer the caramelized onion, pear, and brie crostini. We're also whipping up some tasty "Queer Eye Canapés" (prosciutto, arugula, and shaved parmesan), fiesta roll-ups, bruschetta, Ellen's Famous Refried Bean Dip with tortilla chips, crackers along with various spreads (sun-dried tomato, pumpkin spice, crab something-or-other). And since there should be some kind of greenery in the mix -- and not only for decoration -- we're having a mandarin orange salad with mixed greens and feta. I did have to make a few concessions, recognizing that not everyone in my family shares our adventurous tastes in food, so my mom is making lasagna and some kind of quiche, while my aunt is bringing a crock-pot full of tiny meatballs in some kind of sauce. And to please the kiddies, Michelle is bringing a whopping amount of pizza bagels. Oh, this will be fun ... and delicious for all!

But there is much work to do. Like I said, I'm a bit rusty in the Martha Stewart department, and I'm not used to pumping out this much food from my little kitchen. I'm a little concerned about the crowd -- 15 family members -- and some bottle-necking action that's bound to happen, but that's all part of the deal, I suppose. Tomorrow I hit the grocery store for my fresh ingredients, and I can't say I am looking forward to that whatsoever. Our particular store tends to have crowd-control issues during holidays, and the thought of weaving my way around folks who, for some uncanny reason, seem to think they're the only one in the aisle, is not my idea of a relaxing morning. But soldier on I must ...

But first, I have a mountain of laundry to fold. The day-to-day stuff doesn't seem to give me a break.

Fourth Sunday of Advent: LOVE

The Fourth Sunday of Advent

The Path to Christ
The Candle of Love

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16)

I must confess that I don’t always think of the word “love” on Christmas. Hope? Sure. Peace? Yes. Joy? Absolutely. But love? That’s more like Valentine’s Day, isn’t it? Ah, but think about it – think about this journey we have been on during this Season of Advent. We have been traveling the Path to Christ, taking our first steps in Hope, experiencing God’s true Peace through repentance, bubbling over with the Joy that only Christ can bring. And why? It’s all because of Love!

Why did God send his own precious Son to earth, to be amongst fallen humanity, and to save their sorry souls from the sin that engulfs every single one of them? He did it because of Love – an intense, holy, inexplicable Love that we can never truly comprehend. Everything God does for us and for His creation is because of his unsurpassing Love.

Today we light the final candle to remind us of this holy Love that brought us all together, here, in the first place, for without this Love we would not be celebrating Christmas, the birth of Jesus Christ our Savior. Yet it doesn’t end there, does it. There needs to be a Part 2 to this story, this journey, that involves our response to this Love. When we are given a gift, we say “thank you” to the giver. But in this case, the gift is tremendous – there are not enough “thank you’s” to cover the magnitude of this gift of Love, nor should we ever think that we could do this on our own. This is more than a “thank you.” God is looking for more than those two little words … He’s actually looking for one simple, three-letter word – YES.

That is our response – YES! “Yes” to God’s will, “Yes” to accepting this amazing gift of Love, “Yes” to embracing this relationship God wants to have with us. Mary said “Yes” to the angel who visited her, accepting what God had planned for her life, which ultimately transformed the world. Joseph said “Yes” to Mary’s news, accepting his role in the story when he most certainly could have turned her away in scorn. The Magi said “Yes” to the star that shone so brightly, beckoning them to leave their homeland and travel a vast distance to worship this mysterious King. Mary, Joseph, the Shepherds, and the Magi all embarked upon an amazing journey, a Path to Christ that would transform not only their individual lives but also the entire world. We are on this same journey, traveling this season toward Christ and to an answer that God, in His Infinite Love, wants to hear more than anything else: “YES!”

(Fourth meditation for church bulletin)

Hype

It came ... with all the fanfare of approaching royalty, and all the execution of a deflating balloon.

Once again, the biggest-snowstorm-of-our-lives! has proven to be quite lame. 8 to 15? Not even close. Try 5 inches, 6 at the most ...


We haven't heard if church is canceled, but we are moving about our morning with the intention of going. If it is canceled, I will be sorely embarrassed at my fellow New Jerseyians' cowardice at a few inches of white stuff.

Despite the end result, it was pretty last night, watching the myraid of flakes streaming down from the sky, illuminated by the street light, half-concealing the twinkling Christmas lights on our neighbors' houses. That alone was worth the hype.

It's Coming ...

Will it really happen this time? I suppose it remains to be seen ... the proof is in the white stuff that will -- or will not be -- be on the ground. I can't recall how many forecasts we've had for "mind-blowing blizzards" or "death-defying snow drifts" -- OK, maybe not quite that dramatic -- and ended up with just enough snow to sweep it off the steps. Right -- sweep, with a broom, not a shovel.

What we've been hearing around here falls in the typical NJ-hype range: a broom-able 2 inches to a "stop-ya-in-yer-tracks" 2 feet! Gotta love that forecast.

But it's cold. Bitter, bitter cold. The kind of cold where your fingers ache and refuse to work; the kind of cold where the insides of your nostrils sting. Plus, it's very windy, blowing icy daggers right through your layers of clothing. But it's the smell ... that inexplicable unscented smell in the air, that triggers something in your brain. It's coming ...

This afternoon, after spending the entire morning at church working at a fundraiser, I changed my clothes (donning a very bulky getup of thick sweatpants and woolly sweater) and went back to church when no one else was around. I smelled that smell ... I felt those icy stings ... and it felt great. My goal was to finally -- finally! -- dig up the plants around our church sign that had long since reached their end, now brittle sticks of death looking very unattractive. The soil was frozen solid, so I had no choice but to leave the roots behind as the stems easily broke off. It felt strange, "gardening" in such frigid weather, but with this "massive snowstorm" on the way I wanted to get all of that taken care of before it was buried in snow.

I'm skeptical. It's been a few hours now and there's not much out there -- not even enough to broom off the front steps. The Powers-That-Be are trying to figure out whether or not to cancel church tomorrow, but we'll have to wait and see. I rather hope not, for the kids are putting on their Christmas program and my own two performers don't want to miss this for anything, not even mountains of snow. Aidan is the "Head Holy Angel," as he reminds us often, so he feels as if his role simply can't be postponed for another week. I guess we'll just have to see what Jack Frost does -- or does not -- blow our way.

That's One Way of Doing It

I guess there's more than one way to watch TV ...

Who Knew ...

... that Christmas trees could make such wonderful forts!

Grace had blockaded herself into the festive corner, her "bits" strewn about the base of the tree. "No Boys Allowed!" she declared, "except for Aidan. I love my big brother."

The sweet (and oh-so-blind) thing asked me to join her.
I told her I'd much rather than her picture instead.

In the Home Stretch ...

Phew.

The gifts are now all wrapped and under the tree -- at least, the gifts that have come into my possession. I always get nervous about this time, since only one of my online ordered gifts came and I'm leery about the others. This apprehension comes from experience -- one year I recall Don only had one gift to open on "The Day" while the others trickled in the week after.

The kids are going crazy. It took Grace about an hour to notice that the tree actually had something under it, and at her first squeal -- while I was in the kitchen prepping dinner (cilantro lime chicken) -- I smiled. I knew exactly what she saw. "Don't touch anything!" I yelled into the living room.

For about 15 minutes the kids struggled with restraining themselves from handling those enticingly wrapped boxes, not with a great deal of success, I might add. Aidan even went so far as to bribe me with $1 from his piggy bank if I would let him open "just one little gift" tomorrow ... I am not one to be bribed.

Now this is fun. I could do without the chaos and the daily lists of things I need to get done and always forgetting at least one or two of said listed items ... But these squeals, these childlike bribes, these sparkling eyes and innocent exuberance cannot be equaled. How I wish I could embrace even the tiniest of life's surprises and goodness with this much zeal. I see through my grown-up eyes a sparse pile, for there aren't many gifts this year -- but does that really matter? My kids, hunkered around the base of the tree, weren't counting what was there, or noting what wasn't -- all they saw are little mysteries just waiting to be torn into, wrapped in pretty paper. As always, my kids continue to teach me yet another Life Lesson in their absolute glee.

Who really cares how many packages are under the evergreen ... My two favorite gifts are right there in front of me.

My version of Facebook ...

Guess what I'm doing now?

I'm wrapping gifts
In the living room
With Christmas music playing
Grace is napping
(so is Jack)
I'm all alone ...
and I love it!

Tomorrow?
More shopping and hopefully I can then wrap it up. Literally.

So is this what Facebook is like?
Huh.
Back to wrapping ...

The Nutcracker

In my kids' "bedroom library," we have a fairly large collection of Christmas and winter-themed books -- stories that are not touched during the year, yet poured over with relish once Thanksgiving is over. For as long as I have been reading to my children, one of their favorite stories of this genre is The Nutcracker.

Thanks to several acquisitions and a friend's donations from various library book sales, we have quite a few versions of this story in our collection. Aidan, being the particular child that he is, sometimes prefers comparing the versions rather than reading the story itself. I have caught him on more than one occasion spreading each book out on the floor, looking at the different illustrations and making comments: "Look, Mommy -- this Mouse King has seven heads, while this one only has one," or "In this book his jaw gets broken, but here his whole head broke off!" He has been particularly stumped on one particular version which refers to the little girl as Marie, while every other book calls her Clara. "We like Clara better," declared Grace. Clara it is.

For the past several years, my kids -- and Grace especially -- has been asking for a Nutcracker of their own for Christmas. My mom has a tiny one that Grace simply adores, but I have not been able to find one that small. Each year I make up their gift lists, purchase their Star Wars figures or Littlest Pet Shop animals ... and completely forget about their Nutcracker request. Yet each year they keep reminding me.

We commenced our Nutcracker marathon this month, as usual, and once again their requests resurfaced. This time my mom came to the rescue, informing me that CVS had them on sale ... and small ones to boot! Grace was napping one afternoon, so my mom put on the old baby monitor to listen for her while I zipped down to the store. But of course ... all of the small ones were sold out. What remained were four larger ones, about 14 inches tall. The price was reasonable and I picked out two different ones, one for each child. The choice was not an easy one -- I played scenarios of complaints in my head as I inspected each one ("I like that one better! I don't like these colors! He's holding a drum - the real Nutcracker didn't have a drum!"), so I'm hoping I made the right choices. (Note to self: don't buy the one with the drum).

I'm excited about this -- I think the kids will be thrilled. I just hope Aidan doesn't try to reenact the Fritz storyline and break the head of Grace's precious nutcracker. Yet then again, if that doesn't happen, the best part of the story won't unfold ...

Checklist

We're midway through December, and today I thought I should take a mental checklist of where I am in the grand scheme of things. I rather wish I didn't ...

- Kids' gifts: bought and paid for. Wrapped? Nope - not yet.
- Parents' gifts: mine are taken care of, although I can't say what it is, since they read this blog. Can't spoil the surprise! Don's parents -- we have an idea, which remains to be purchased.
- Christmas menu (since it's at our house this year): two more people were just added to the guest list -- the more the merrier, as they say. The menu is pretty much in order ... nothing is purchased or prepared, however.
- Church fundraiser: this weekend. Planned and still to be executed.
- Christmas cards: just finished up the last batch and they'll go out in the mail tomorrow (phew!).
- Teachers, bus drivers, etc. -- A class mom called me recently, informing me that my kids' teachers' birthdays fall a few days before Christmas. OK ... and ... "Well, your kids can give them a gift, make a card, etc." OK, sure, why not?-- just add it to the list of things to do! I thought of baking Christmas cookies with the kids, but ... a) I don't like to bake with the kids, b) I don't really like to bake, period, and c) just tell me where I can fit that in this list of things to do? I hope everyone will appreciate a homemade Christmas card this year ...
- Class Christmas parties -- "I need you to make a snacky thing," said the above class mom. Can I somehow make edible homemade Christmas cards?
- Kids' Christmas program in church: rehearsal is this Saturday, with the program the following day. Aidan has easily memorized his lines, as he is -- he declared quite proudly -- "The Head Holy Angel." What a role!
- Aidan's Christmas chapel in school: he's got his lines nailed (thank goodness for his sharp memory and instant recall!) so all I have to do is show up, with Grace. I just hope she doesn't try to run up there and steal the show.

This time of year I always struggle with my husband's gift list ... or, rather, his non-existent gift list. Or his gift list which is made up of electronic items I've never heard of. Or it simply says "money to buy electronic items you've never heard of." To be frank, he's not a lot of fun to shop for. A few smaller items are ordered and on the way (if they arrive in time for Christmas, I'll be most happy). But what else? I slipped my recent brilliant idea into conversation recently, to see if he'd bite -- I found out he would never want what I suggested. Thank goodness I asked!

Time's ticking away. And yet, as always, everything gets done, everything gets beautifully wrapped, smiles are firmly in place, and Christmas is always a beautiful day. But boy, I have a lot to do in the meantime ...

Third Sunday of Advent: JOY

The Third Sunday of Advent
The Path to Christ
The Candle of JOY

“But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11).

The story of the shepherds is one of my favorite parts of the Christmas story, perhaps because I am the kind of person who usually roots for the underdog. Here we have a group of nomads, separated from the rest of society, hanging out in the harsh desert with their sheep. In this ancient culture, shepherds were not the most esteemed of citizens, and their life situation shows it. And hooray for the underdogs – God chose this ragtag band of shepherds to reveal His Glory, the amazing message of what was unfolding in Bethlehem … The Good News!

On this Third Sunday of Advent, there is a reason this candle is known as both the Shepherd’s Candle and the Candle of Joy, because the news that was delivered to them that night was one that could only bring a response of Joy. And what’s even more amazing about it is that the Good News did not stop there; this News is “for all the people” … that means us, today!

We have been on this incredible journey of The Path to Christ, recognizing the need to rid ourselves of the darkness that enfolds us, claiming the Hope that is promised to us in Jesus Christ, and experiencing the true Peace of God by repenting of our sins. Out of this Hope, and out of this Peace, grows this astounding Joy! This is the same Joy that Mary felt when she was filled with the Holy Spirit, bowing her will to God’s. This is the same Joy the shepherds experienced, so filled that they ran to Bethlehem and fell to their knees in worship. This is the same Joy that this tiny baby – this Son of God – has brought to the entire world.

This is the same Joy that fills us today, as we light this candle in celebration of this Advent journey. For by taking these steps on The Path to Christ, we experience what these underdog shepherds did – a Joy so intense, so life-changing, so beautiful. For if Jesus – Emmanuel – is truly dwelling within us, then it will make a transforming difference in who we are and how we live our lives. How can we not rejoice at this Good News?! We will live new lives of Joy!

(Third meditation for church bulletin)

Icicles

It's 31 degrees outside, although with the windchill it must be far below that balmy figure. And ...

I just turned my heat on, for the first time this season. I believe this is a record. But with our living room thermostat reading an admittedly uncomfortable 60 degrees, and my chilled and sluggish (oh, that word!) fingers struggling to keep up with my brain, I had no choice.

I'm relieved that I'm finally back online, after 24 hours of no phone and internet/email service. Three days ago we switched to the Optimum "double play" deal (just voice and internet - no cable), and what happens? We lose everything. Talk about frustrating ... although it was an interesting window into how I spend my time, for I never realized how dependent I have become on my email communications and internet use, not to mention the necessity of having a telephone. Apparently a newbie was fussing around on the pole yesterday, hooking up another neighbor, and in the process he completely disconnected our service. Gotta learn somehow -- and what a pleasure it has been to be his guinea pig.

It's been a frustrating week, aside from the telephone snafu. Our wonderful weekend plans for a child-less getaway to Cape Cod for Don's work (Christmas party) this week has been foiled ... by Don's work. I'm not sure when I've last felt this disappointed, but interestingly, I've also learned there's no point in lingering there. We'll make some Christmas lemonade out of these weekend lemons somehow.

Of Rainstorms and "Radishes"

It has been seriously hectic around this household. I think, psychologically, when the December dates begin to hit double-digits, the swirling chaotic activity seems to ramp up overnight. Adding to the mix are a myriad of birthday parties Aidan and/or Grace has been invited to, various church events and fundraisers, Christmas card signing and mailing, not to mention somehow fitting in some shopping in there somewhere ...

This is nothing new, but I do feel as if I need things to slow down a bit so I can catch my breath. This morning Grace and I are bringing Daddy to work so I can have the car -- and then the running around begins. Thankfully, a friend offered to watch Grace this morning so I can finally tackle some Christmas shopping without nosy kids in tow, and I'm actually looking forward to it -- despite the fact that I plan on going to Toys R Us, a store that really does overwhelm me.

Yesterday I had two very humorous conversations with my kids -- not necessarily anything laugh-worthy to them, but I just found it all to be pretty darned cute. Due to icy conditions in the morning, Grace's preschool was canceled and Aidan had a two hour delay. At 9:30 a.m. we waited in the garage, door up, watching for the bus and being shielded from the deluge of rain that came pouring out of the sky. Flood watches and warnings were everywhere, but thankfully we live on a very steep hill and all we suffered from was intense wetness. As we stood there, my boy and I side by side, we discussed what was happening outside. His little scientific brain was having a party with the events unfolding before him, gleefully informing me why we don't get flooded, why the water was running downhill, the role that gravity plays in all of it ... No humor whatsoever, but I couldn't help but smile at this little old man, so serious and matter-of-fact.

And then there was Grace, who could care less about why it rains or why water flows downhill. In the evening, after her bath, she ran to me for her nightly ministrations of Eucerin Calming Creme, our attempt at keeping the itchy and raw eczema at bay. Both kids have it, and it flares up mightily in the wintertime. They loathe any kind of cream or lotion on their skin, for even though it is supposed to help, nonetheless it still stings painfully. After drying her off, Grace told me her skin wasn't so bad, but she did have a few "radishes."

Radishes?

She pointed to a red, dry spot on her thigh. "See, Mommy? This is a radish." Cute, cute girl -- "radish" sounds much less sinister than a nasty "rash."

I never knew the language of children could be so much fun.

"All I Want for Christmas ..." is to get rid of Pull-Ups

The topic of All Things Potty has not surfaced in a while, simply because there hasn't been much to write about. We've just been coasting along, perfectly trained during the day yet still holding onto our "security blanket" (that is, a Pull-Up) at night. There's no reason for the Pull-Up, really -- dry as a proverbial bone each morning, for months and months on end. Yet quite some time ago, after another long pee-less spell, I tried putting her to bed with regular undies. The result? A week's worth of peeing in her sleep. I haven't tried that stunt again since.

But now she's nearly 4 and a half and does not need to wear these things. Plus, I don't want to spend that money on something she no longer needs. So last night, for no reason and with no prompting whatsoever, I decided to keep her undies on while we changed her clothes for bed without saying a word. She went to the bathroom ("It's so cold in there, Mommy!"), ran back into the room, and quickly donned her warm-and-fuzzy PJ's without giving one thought to the fact that I "forgot" her undies were still on. Apparently she forgot too.

At 7:45 Don finally emerged from their room after performing their own little rituals of singing, crawling into Grace's bunk together (now, that's a sight to see!), and so on. Aidan, as usual, fell promptly to sleep, while Grace continued singing ... and singing ... and singing ... After a while she started yelling (oh-so-ladylike) -- "I have to pee and poop!" -- so I somewhat begrudgingly got up from my comfortable spot on the couch to assist her. Because of her brace, she still hasn't managed to figure out how to crawl to the bathroom and take care of herself, but that's OK. By the time she did that -- and wriggled out of her sleeper and layers of PJ's underneath -- we'd have a larger problem to deal with, and I'm not quite ready for that battle yet. I picked her up, helped her into the bathroom, and put her back to bed when she was finished. Still no mention of the fact that she was not wearing a Pull-Up.

I thought she had fallen asleep ... until I heard crying at 9:30 p.m. Annoyed that she was still awake, Don went into her room this time to take care of whatever issue was presenting itself. "Sue!" he hissed, not wanting to wake Aidan yet for some reason needing my help. I sighed, probably rolled my eyes (is my duty never done?!), and went back into their bedroom. There she was, stripped down as far as she could manage, sleeper and pajama bottoms tangled around her feet.

"I need my diaper!"

Talk about a button-pusher ... For two hours she could have cared less what was on her bottom. For two hours she never gave it a thought. And now, when she should be fast asleep, she realized what was missing -- her "security blanket." I was faced with a decision -- do we give in? Take off all of those layers of clothing, remove her brace, put on the Pull-Up and reassemble her? No, that particular button was pushed too hard ... no way. I took the stern approach. No mushy Mommy here.

Guess what? After a waterfall of tears and loud protests, she went right to sleep. And this morning she woke up dry, without a single word. This is all strangely familiar -- this approach is how she became potty-trained in the first place. I guess with Grace, "enough is enough" is the tactic to use.

We'll see how long this lasts ... but I'm quite pleased with the results today.

The 10 Plagues According to Aidan

I don't often pay too much attention to the crafts my kids bring home from school, but today's golden nugget was too good to pass up. Aidan created a booklet, with each page detailing one of the Ten Plagues from the Book of Exodus in the Bible. I realized how much I truly love the way children draw, and today was no exception. I was roaring with laughter. Forget the NIV, NRSV, or even The Good Old King James ... I'm finding myself quite partial to this adorable version!

Like how he spelled "pepole." And Aaron by his side is looking quite chipper, for some reason. But the best part comes in the next photo, a close-up of my favorite character ...

I'm loving Pharaoh here, complete with funky hat and intertwined snakes! And clearly he's getting his point across ... those people ain't going nowhere!

A reoccurring theme which you shall see in the following pictures -- the afflicted person, with tongue hanging out for effect.

Here we go with the tongue again ... and apparently, in Aidan's version of the story, the Egyptians were beset upon by green tree frogs, and gigantic ones at that. How very specific ...

A particular favorite, where a Mad Libs character gets in on the act, scratching the head of his gnat-infested friend. No hanging tongues this time -- only gritted teeth.

When I asked Aidan why there was a giant fly on this man's head -- and if the Egyptians perhaps made hats out of them (you know, making lemonade with lemons, or fashionable head-wear from flies ...) he said that ("No, Mommy, don't be so silly!") it was a close-up of the kind of flies that were there. Oh. At least the tongue is hanging out ... although on second thought, better close that mouth to keep out the giant flies.

Apparently things got so bad in Egypt that even the tongues of their animals began to hang out.

Another personal favorite - good old boils (with tongue hanging out, of course). I like his experimentation with perspective here -- large arm in the foreground, etc. Perhaps we have an artist in the making here ...

I was a little confused by this picture -- this particular Egyptian needs to see a hair stylist. But the close-up explains it further ...

"He's saying 'hey'," explained Aidan, "As in, 'hey, something just hit me on the head!'"

Not bad at all ...

No explanation necessary -- just one of my all-time favorites. The Plague of Darkness -- "I can't see!"

It took me a minute to figure this one out. The "E" is pointing to the Egyptian, following a Shakespearean script of describing one's death as it is occurring.

Even such a tiny figure as this deserves the hanging tongue effect, despite the fact that it's almost as long as his entire body. Guess we lost that perspective here ...

Compare the poor "E" character to this oh-so-happy "I" -- or, the Israelite -- complete with his team's blue baseball cap, happily escaping the Angel of Death.

I am definitely keeping this work of art!