Do we have to do this now?

When I was pregnant with Audrey, people, strangers and friends alike, often asked if I was hoping for a girl. It was kind of uncomfortable because they clearly expected me to say yes, but I really didn’t have a preference. I wanted whoever was growing and kicking and squirming away inside of me and I didn’t care if my second baby was a daughter or another son. With that said, I’m not blind; I saw that baby girl clothes were ridiculously cute, but I also kept my eye on the adorable little corduroy outfits for boys, too.


Then my sweet Audrey Shea was born and many people asked if I was excited to have a girl. Strangely, the fact that she was a girl didn’t matter to me at the time. I mothered her in the same way I mothered Isaac. Which means she was held and snuggled and nursed and sung to and read to all the livelong day! Don’t get me wrong, I was out of my mind thrilled to be a mama to my daughter, but I didn’t think ahead to what having a daughter meant. I wasn’t one of those moms that went crazy with clothes or painted her toenails or had a coordinating bow for each outfit. I was just beside myself at the thought of parenting these two precious gifts.

Then, as she got older, I started to think about this daughter thing long-term. Superficially, I realized how much I loved stripey tights and that 3-year-old girls in leotards have to rank right up there as one of the cutest things ever. I’ve watched her begin to develop her own sense of style when she dresses herself and asks me to put a little bit of hair in a ponytail on the side, then quickly ask me to do it differently if it’s not quite to her liking. I’ve thought about going to movies together, taking walks together, talking late into the night, being there for her in her most joyous of celebrations and her darkest of sorrows. I’ve thought about talking about God, boys, friendship, faith, sex, love, and doing what’s right. I’ve thought about growing-up Audrey dating and grown-up Audrey telling me I’m going to be a grandma. I’ve thought about the difficulties that girls face in regards to body image, strength of character, and sense of self.

Right now, my Audrey Shea is carefree and strong and completely unaware of all the evils and pressures and people out there that can hurt her. Of course she knows discipline and little disappointments like not getting hot cocoa every time she comes in from sledding, but her world is filled with love, support, kind words, respect, boundaries, happy times, hugs and kisses. Oh, how I want to keep this world for her.

I really thought I had more time. More time with her dada and two brothers to show her how boys are supposed to treat girls. More time to help her realize that she is beautiful for about a million different reasons and that her much-commented-on brown eyes and lovely hair are just two of them. Add bright mind and silly attitude and honesty and strength and amazing light shining from within and sweetness to the list and we’re still just getting started. But today I was helping her shower and get changed after swim class. The other little girl in her class (3 ½ as well) was changing at the same time and said, “Her this (pointing at her own tummy) is big.” This is where the title of the post comes in. Because, seriously, do we have to do this now? When my daughter is 3 ½. When she’s in the 20th percentile for height and weight. When her world is supposed to be filled with swimming and books and sledding and coloring. The other mom got uncomfortable right away and said that their tummies were alike. The girl said, “no, hers is big.” Audrey was talking to me, seemingly oblivious to the comments, so I kept talking to her and tried to speak louder to drown out the conversation going on next to us. Another mom overheard and laughed at the idea that the girl was already comparing stomachs. The mom tried a different tactic and said, “So is yours” to which the girl responded, “no, hers is bigger than mine. It sticks out more.” This continued for a while until they somehow, finally, thankfully changed the subject. I know, it’s just a conversation between a little girl and her mom. I really believe the girl was simply making an observation and not a judgement, but it was about MY daughter and it was not nice and it was not something Audrey should think about and it made me realize just how hard this is going to be.

Where do our ideas of beauty come from? Why do women shave their legs and color their hair and enhance their breasts and inject their wrinkles and curl their lashes and paint their faces? Why can’t a 60-year-old woman look 60? Why can’t laugh lines show that we’ve spent a joyous life celebrating the good times with laughter? Why can’t hair be allowed to naturally go gray? Why are breasts that have nourished and nurtured children expected to look like they belong in a Victoria’s Secret catalog? Why are Barbies and actresses and models so impossibly large breasted and tiny waisted? WHY?

What am I teaching my daughter as I purchase my Clairol #54 to cover the exponentially growing gray hairs quickly taking over my head? What is she learning when she sees me pluck my eyebrows or inspect myself from every angle after I get dressed to see if my “not what they used to be” breasts look acceptable in the shirt I chose? What would she learn if her nana filled in all her wrinkles and her mama got breast implants? What would that teach her about beauty, acceptance, character, aging, and what we value about people? What does she see when she looks in the mirror today? How will she see herself when she looks in the mirror in 10 years?

I obviously have lots of questions without many answers. My questions here are far-reaching, but the bottom line is that I want to do what is right for my daughter. I want to inoculate her against tummy comments and Vogue ads and “reality shows” that in no way reflect reality and operate under the guise of helping people find love, but really just act as advertisements for hot tubs, skimpy swimsuits, and mass make-out sessions. I want to help her find strength to rely on her Lord and her mind and her courage and her kindness to do the right thing and feel beautiful for all the reasons that really matter and not because some boy told her she looks cute in those jeans or because some girl said she looks skinny.

This is not going to be easy. I pray God gives me the wisdom to live the life that will teach her well and speak the words she needs to hear. She is beautiful. Her spirit is beautiful. Her generosity and kindness and expressions of love are beautiful. Her smiles and giggles and hugs are beautiful. Her curiosity and faithfulness and trust are beautiful. Her name means noble strength. She’ll need that strength many times as she grows up and makes the sad discovery that the world isn’t always as kind as our home is. Her name is Audrey. She is my precious, strong, beloved daughter. She is the epitome of beautiful, both inside and out. Just in case you ever wonder.

Best Christmas EVER! A picture-filled recap

We seem to top ourselves every year, but this year really had to be the best Christmas yet. There was plenty of time to praise God for sending a little baby to save us and love us and forgive us, spend lots of time with grandmas, grandpas, aunts, uncles, and a cousin, romp in our fresh snowfall that hampered some people's travel plans, but made us giddy with excitement, play with new toys, attend the Nutcracker with my two dancers and La Natividad (an amazing puppet show/journey through the streets of town following the path that Mary and Joseph took so long ago) with church, lose front middle teeth with the other sure to fall out by morning, proudly watch Audrey perform her Up on the Housetop dance, visit the yearly Christmas display downtown, proudly watch Isaac sing in church, share delicious meals with our loved ones, have plenty of quality "just the five of us" time, play games, and sing Christmas carols to Isaac's piano accompaniment. Obviously not all of this happened on Christmas, but over the course of a few weeks. It was just perfect! We had a lot of fun festivities going on, but never felt rushed or busy, two adjectives that take over the holidays for too many of us. Isaac, Audrey, and Elliot make this time of year so unforgettable. We just wish we could have celebrated again with the other side of the family, but the miles make it impossible to see each other as much as we'd like.

The Wise Men puppets from la natividad

Anticipating the start of the Nutcracker

posing in front of Elliot's favorite scene. Isaac picked out Elliot's tie.

Christmas Eve fun

Not bad for using a timer-Christmas Eve 2009

Christmas day

December 26, the celebrating continues

once she got her snowmobile ride from him, she was all about Grandpa Lenny

Isaac's tries out his favorite gift (from Audrey) for the first time

getting ready for her big performance

Isaac performs with his choir on Christmas eve

The toothless wonder. I've already informed him that I'll call him Gapper when that other top tooth falls out. Does he look exactly like his dad here?!?

our own christmas miracle

OK, miracle may be a bit of an exaggeration, but, then again, maybe it isn't. Because today, actually, if you want to get technical (and I do), this afternoon and evening, our basement went from looking like this

to looking like this.

Yes, all three little people were home and accounted for at all times, which means no one was locked in his or her room, tied to a chair, watching tv, or wandering outside. See. Maybe miracle wasn't such an exaggeration, oh ye of little faith!

We planned ahead and  had lots of fun things for them to play with in the basement. So, even though our basement looked like this

they decided their imaginations were much more exciting than a brand new train set and car and a bike that is never brought inside. Instead, they would pretend they were in the Nutcracker, play peek-a-boo,

and diligently start and finish a huge Lego project.

So, if not a miracle, then a smashing success at the very least!

So that's what love feels like

Isaac and Audrey like to take turns picking Christmas CDs. They think Mannheim Steamrollers' CD is rock and roll and, therefore, need to rock out to it when they dance. They know the Nutcracker is for smooth, twirling ballet moves, unless it's the fight scene when you can expect to see a pipe and a magic wand crashing together like swords. They know that Amy Grant's Christmas CD is my very favorite and that it makes me happy every time I hear it.

Tonight I was making some cookies and Audrey's CD ended so Isaac asked if he could pick his. Jim was tossing Audrey up in the air, leaving her breathless from laughter. Isaac got the CD started and ran after Audrey with strict instructions. "Ssssssssssh!!! Be quiet!!! SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!" When the laughter died down, I realized why he'd not-so-politely requested silence. Amy Grant was singing about her tender Tennessee Christmas.  Grinning from ear to ear, he asked, "Do you hear it, mama? I picked this CD because I love you so much." Then he ran/wiggled his way over to give me a huge hug and kiss. I felt love from the very top of my hair to the very tips of my toes. Oh, how I love my biggest boy. Just in case you ever wonder.

Legacy

Many times throughout the day, I look at my children and see so much of myself in them. I don't know how many times one or another of them has done something like run squealing with excitement through the house because we got a lot of Christmas cards, and Jim's said, "Hmmm, I wonder where they get that from!" In many ways they are like mirrors. Often, I am so happy with the reflection. They love hunkering down with a good book even if they can't read quite yet, are quick to give hugs when people are sad, act goofy, laugh vibrantly, notice beauty in sunsets and the breathtaking variety of green colors seen in a forest of spring trees, sing loudly, hug tightly, ask lots of questions, and show compassion. I would be honored if they had learned just a few of those silly, sweet qualities from me.

Then there are times I see something in them that I'd rather not attribute to me, but it seems all too familiar. A sarcastic tone of voice, clothes left in a heap on the floor, uncertainty around new people, annoyance shown when others make mistakes, impatience when things don't go as planned. These are aspects of my personality I'd rather forget about, but it's kind of hard when there are three kids mirroring my less-than-stellar behavior back to me.

Day in and day out, I am teaching my children. For this time in their lives, Jim and I are the strongest influences. What an honor. What a responsibility. What will my legacy be? I pray it will be kindness to friends and strangers alike, confidence in yourself and your decisions, silly faces and beatboxing at the dinner table (you've got to see that one!), curiosity and love of learning, trilling like a soprano to old-fashioned Christmas carols, and a desire to make a difference in the world-in easy to notice and profound ways like mission work or simply by teaching love and respect to their children. I pray that the lights that shine around you and through you now will only grow brighter as you find your places and make your marks on this troubled, yet beautiful, world. Just in case you ever wonder.

p.s. Mom, if you're reading this, you should know that so many of these silly and serious hopes I have for Audrey and Elliot and Isaac come from nights spent playing cards with you, singing in the car (I still sound just like Mariah Carey), sharing meals together, and feeling your love. Just in case you ever wonder.

that's one way of putting it

Isaac and Elliot had a bath together the other morning. I stood Elliot up to wash some areas unreachable while sitting down, if you know what I mean. As I stood him up, Isaac said, "Wow, he has really big muscles in his knees. They're huge. Look at the ripples." This is the vision he saw in the tub.

Feast your eyes on these muscles!! Yep, he's been working out like crazy.

My tank of a boy keeps getting pushed by a little, scrawny 18-month-old girl while we wait for Audrey at dance class. She randomly walks up to him and pushes him. Now, being the tank that he is, it doesn't knock him over and I'm there in a jiffy to tell her, "No pushing," but the sad little look on his face is just heartbreaking. He looks up at me and says, "Baby? Baby?" as if he wonders why she would do such a thing. It must be confusing to such a gentle giant.  But, now I know her agenda so I stick close to the action and steer them away from each other when she gets a certain gleam in her eye.

Now, for her sake, I hope her pushing never bothers him because she will be sorry if he ever gets fed up and pushes her back. That would not be a pretty sight. You know, because of all those big muscles!

anticipation

As I sing lullabies to her little brother, she waits, her fingers marking the first page. As I rock him a bit, she waits, eyes open wide lest she miss out on a thing. As I lay him down, she waits, sitting up straight in her bed watching the door for the first hint of me. I enter the room and she giggles in anticipation. The body wiggling, trying to stifle the noise because her brother is trying to sleep, but it's so hard to keep the noise inside, head shaking giggles. I click the lamp on and she puts her book down to hug me. But then the pages start to flutter close and she's torn; should she hug me or save her page? I save the day by grabbing the book and am rewarded with her beautiful, tight hug. Then we snuggle under the covers together and the moment she's been waiting for all day, but really for months, happens and we start her first chapter book. Anticipation over. Let the fun begin. At least until tomorrow when she starts the countdown to chapter two.

Tis the season

For dressing ridiculously adorable little children up as Joseph and the lamb for their church Christmas program. Seriously, what could be sweeter?

For rocking the piano recital with terrific renditions of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and Little Drummer Boy.

For teaching our children the real reason we celebrate Christmas: remembering our Savior who entered the world a helpless baby and that we give and receive gifts as a way to remember that God already gave us the best gift of all in forgiveness and eternal life through Jesus' birth and death. This is no easy feat given the commotion of cash registers ringing around us as people clamor for the biggest, brightest, loudest, bestest. But, we try to focus on church Christmas programs and nativity scenes and bible stories and piano recitals and buying gifts for children who go without and time spent with family . These things go a long way in hushing the deafening commercialism around us.
And did I mention ridiculously cute children? The gang's all here!

Tis the season

For beautiful little boys sledding for the very first time. For giggles as the wind rushes against his face as he careens down the hill.

For the gift of being there to feel every muscle tighten as he traversed the bumps and hear every squeal of delight and shout of "more" when the ride slowed to a snow-crunching stop.

For dimpled smiles at the simple task of tromping down the hill, hearing the crunch of fresh snow, and feeling the penetrating warmth of the sun in spite of the bitter cold.

For winter swinging, waving all the cares of the world away as we take in the fresh air, the silence of the world around us, broken only by our excited chatter, shouts of joy, and raucous laughter, insulated by the beautiful white blanket cloaking us in loveliness.

For toddlers doing what they do best, toddling abominable snowman style through the snow only to be tripped up by the sheer bulk of many layers, leaving them stuck like a duck in the muck, as we say.

For help along the way.

For joy.

And presenting. . .

The newest 3 1/2 year old to grace our home.

Audrey Shea, smart, sweet, gorgeous, hilarious, giving, snuggly, goofy, amazing, and loving girl that she is, turned 3 1/2 today. At 6:08 am to be exact. She's been in my arms for 3 1/2 years and in my soul forever. God danced the day you were born, sweet Audy boo, and you've given me reasons to dance ever since. Mama loves you because you are who you are!

Dreams interrupted

On Thursday we learned that Isaac's dance teacher, the one that inspired this painstakingly written Thanksgiving card, was told she should no longer dance because of a back problem. She is in her mid- to late-20s.

Concentrating to get it just right

(it ended up saying "Miss Abby. You ar tha best techr i eva had. Love, Isaac")
I immediately thought of how that would affect us. Isaac obviously loves her. She is full of enthusiasm and silliness, a very talented dancer, a kind Christian, and a great teacher. The teachers at the dance school are hit or miss and we lucked out with a major hit this year! If we have to switch teachers, we may not be so lucky. Me. Me. Me. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.

As those thoughts ran through my mind, I immediately realized how ridiculous they were so I quickly stepped off the selfish train and thought about how that news must have felt to Abby. I imagined her as a little 3 year old all dolled up in tights and a tutu just learning to dance, unable to comprehend the places dance would take her. I imagined her as a teenager, realizing that what started as an extracurricular activity felt less like a hobby and more like a calling. I imagined her dancing on stages much grander than our little Christian dance school to much bigger audiences. I imagined the joy she feels when she sees her dancers perform her choreography as a beautiful way to glorify the Lord. How must it feel to live your dream? More to the point, how must it feel to live your dream and have it taken away?

I imagine emptiness. Cynical exploration of the dark corners of your mind. Sarcastic questions caustically aimed at God. Yes, all too often that is how I handle deep disappointment. But then I imagine light. Light illuminating a new path. It may be a path to understanding, a path to an unexpected opportunity, or just a path to the Lord, beckoning you to Him in your sorrow, His arms open wide with no expectations, just love and patience.

Our simple plans, designed as painstakingly as Isaac wrote his note, are made by humans and we are full of folly and shortsightedness. We get stuck in today's disappointments, unable to see them as a path to tomorrow's understanding or opportunity. Certainly, there is not always understanding or opportunity waiting just around the corner from a broken dream, but there is always the chance to fall on our hands and knees and ask for help. And there is always, ALWAYS help and it isn't even around the corner. It is right here where you are. Of course it is help from mama, dada, a friend, a grandparent, an aunt or uncle. We are here for you in your trials, your jubilation, your devastation, and your celebration. But there is help and hope in Jesus.

Disappointment hurts, leaves us reeling, questioning our abilities and our choices and ourselves. If I could protect you from those hurts I would. But because I can't, I have to tell you two important things about those tough times you are sure to face. First, they are part of this life and they are part of what will shape the you that you are to become. Second, the choices you make in the dark moments are more important than the decisions you make when life is easy. Will you take the easy road? Will you turn away from wrong when it is staring you in the face? Will you help a friend when it isn't the cool thing to do? Will you listen quietly for God's nudges and follow the path planned for you since long before you were born? Will you ask for help when you are in over your head?

Every day I pray for you. Somedays my prayers spew out in a jumble of words and sometimes my prayers are songs that I sing with your name in my soul. These lyrics speak to me, my hopes for you in your difficult times when the world feels stacked against you and your dreams feel so very far away. You are not alone. You are cradled in God's loving arms. Do you remember how it felt to snuggle with your dada? Do you remember that feeling of being so small in such big, loving arms, so secure next to such a strong father? As hard as it is to imagine, your heavenly Father loves you even more than that.

"Held" by Natalie Grant
This is how it feels to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life and you survive.
This is what it is to be loved
and to know that the promise was when everything fell,
we'd be held.
We'd be held.

"Untitled Hymn" by Chris Rice
Sometimes the way is lonely
and steep and filled with pain
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain

Then cry to Jesus, cry to Jesus, cry to Jesus and live.

Oh when the love spills over
and music fills the night
and when you can't contain your joy inside

then dance for Jeusus, dance for Jesus, dance for Jesus and live.

And with your final heartbeat
kiss the world goodbye
then go in peace and laugh on glory's side

and fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus, fly to Jesus and live.

Dream big dreams. You are smart and determined enough to accomplish anything with hard work and kindness. But if things don't go quite as you planned, follow the detour God planned for you. You just might be thrilled at where it takes you. And, for goodness sake, call your mama. I'm sure I'm worried sick about you. Just in case you ever wonder!

Good morning!

They tumble in one at a time. Well, one squawks "mama" and "football" quietly first and then with more gusto until I go and get him, not because it's actually an acceptable hour of the morning, but because I don't want him waking other little people up at this unacceptable time. There are days he sleeps until 6:30, but usually his internal alarm clock goes off at 5 am. Too tired to rock him back to sleep in his room and fully aware that he often wakes up the moment I lay him down again, I bring him to sleep in our bed until a time of morning that the sun is at least considering rising in the east.

But the other two tumble in. Audrey is silent as an owl stalking prey. Her little padded feet slip off of her bed and she opens her door without a creak. She sneaks stealthily down the hall and pushes our door open, peeking her head around the corner, searching for what? A baby already in my arms? An empty bed signalling she should head straight downstairs? After a quick peek, she slowly walks to me and puts her hand on my arm. "Mama," her little voice whispers. So simple, that word, yet said with such love. Sometimes she asks if it's still nighttime. Sometimes she asks where Isaac and Elliot are. Usually she says she wants to cuddle with me before she wakes up. Resistance is futile!

Isaac thuds down. The child cannot sneak anywhere. His feet hit the floor with a crash and he opens his door with a click and a whoosh of wind. His big padded feet thump down the hall and he barrels into our room. Seeing the bed filled with parents and siblings, he sizes us up and looks for a safe spot to leap, making sure not to land on anyone. Hugs are given, nighttime dreams dissected, number of teeth counted +, daily plans discussed, morning books read, this life perfect.

+Isaac has four loose teeth, one hanging by some invisible, yet hardy, thread. Therefore, we have to count teeth to see if anything happened overnight.

Three very different approaches to one wonderful outcome. A cozy, snuggly bed filled with love, cuddles, and good morning stories. It's hard enough getting out of a warm bed on a chilly winter's day, but on days like today, these snuggle munchkins make it pretty much impossible. Quiet time with my sweet husband and my three lovable children is the very best way to start the day. Just in case you ever wonder.

A counting genius

Elliot helped me wash apples for dinner the other night. I held them and he said, "adda," his word for apple. I replied that yes, they were apples and we would have them for supper. He said, "Two adda" and picked both up at the same time, palming them with his man hands like Michael Jordan palmed a basketball. Fluke? Perhaps, but maybe my one year old can count to two. That's pretty darn cool. Then, because we are talking about Elliot here, he proceeded to eat one of them. That's my boy.

These are a few of my favorite things

So many ordinary, amazing, beautiful things happened today. Life really is a gift. Too often, in my quest to get things done, be on time, do things just so, I bypass the special little moments that are the essence of this time in my life. For some reason, maybe with cold comes clarity, today I really saw those moments for the beautiful and significant times that they are.

Audrey read Elliot book after book after book today while Isaac and I worked on a few things for school. Do either of them look comfortable? Can you even tell where one ends and the other begins? Unless, of course, you look for the child who matches and the one who dresses herself. This girl loves her some baby brother. Even if said baby brother is nearly as big as she is. He happily sat on her lap, snuggled next to her, and put up with her physically arranging his body every which way. It was the sweetest moment.

Tonight we watched Isaac's little Christmas dance recital and stopped to pick up dinner on the way home. The kids and I waited in the car since it's so cold. To keep them occupied, we sang Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer along with the silly "like a lightbulb" lines. The kids had never heard them before and thought it was about the silliest thing ever. I taught them the words so we could surprise Jim when he came back out. Isaac asked, "Do you think he'll be shocked and astounded that we learned it already?" Then I twirled Audrey's white hat on my finger, pretending it was a flying snowflake. It would slip off the top of my finger and zoom to all corners of the car. This sounds so weird, I'm aware, but to hear the rip-roaring belly laughs booming from my backseat warmed my soul to the core. Time spent laughing together is time well-spent. Jim could hear us laughing from outside and couldn't believe a little flying hat could send us into such hysterics. Guess you had to be there. And, he was shocked and astounded at the trio's version of Rudolph. : )

Elliot likes to hand things to us as he says "Here you go." Except it sounds like oh doe doe. When he needs something he calls, "honey!" When, in an attempt to quell his horrible teething pain, he bites his finger, he cries, "boo boo" and runs to me, putting his finger on my lips so I can kiss it. Tonight he choked on too much water. It really scared him. I tried to forcefully pat his back, but he just turned his body into mine to be near me, to hug me, to feel me near him. That as what he needed. I was what he needed. I love knowing that he trusts me, feels secure with me, and knows that I will do whatever I can to help him feel better.

So, not much happened today. But then again, everything happened today. And it was just perfect. Just in case you ever wonder.

It's 4 degrees BELOW zero. Do you know where your children are?

I'm guessing they aren't here.

Doing this.

Or this.

Or even this.

While you and your littlest voyeur take pictures out the window from the 70 degree comfort of your home.

In my defense, the sun was shining brightly, I had no idea it was so stinking cold, it felt much warmer than -4 (like at least 10!), I told them to come in the moment they got too cold, and I watched for signs of hypothermia, albeit from inside my house, but I watched nonetheless.

Bolstering my defense, they had the best time. They dove down piles of snow, made snow angels, helped each other when they got stuck in the drifts, ate fresh snow, and played on the swingset in the backyard for 40 whopping minutes. They came in with cheeks as red as tomatoes saying that they felt as cold as penguins. I just think that's so clever. We warmed them up with good books, cozy blankets, and hot cocoa.

Really, what could be better? Big chilly adventures outside and a warm blanket and hot cocoa to welcome you back. Isn't that what we all want? The chance to take risks, have fun, try new things, but the knowledge that security and love is waiting for us when we feel cold, uncertain, or just in need of a big hug. Isn't that what God offers us? That's what I thought of when they came back in and melted into our waiting arms. Just as I am always here for them, He is always here for me. Actually, even more than I love them, He loves me. What a message. What a morning!

Today's post is brought to you by the letter tongue click

HUH? What does that mean? Well, our verbal little fellow decided learning English was getting (yawn) a little boring, so he would give Swahili a try. He is a fan of milk from the fridge or from the mama, but for a long time he kept the two kinds of milk in separate mental categories. Whole milk was watee, his word for water, and breastmilk was me, usually said in a sad, pleading, pitiful voice as if starvation was half a minute away. He'd look at us as if we'd lost our mind when we called milk from the fridge milk, probably because it was clearly too chilly to really be milk. We kept calling it milk and one day it clicked in the very cutest of ways. He started calling fridge milk "me (tongue click)." I know it looks weird, but say it out loud. It's just too darn cute. Since then we've heard him say ink by saying "in (tongue click)" and now both milks are known as me (tongue click). How smart is that? The k sound is a tricky one (or should I say tri "tongue click" y?) so he just found his own way to get his point across. Language acquisition is just so fascinating to me. And how I love that smart-talking, dairy-loving, molar-growing little boy. Just in case you ever wonder!

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas and we have the pictures to prove it!

The first batch of cookies have been baked, taking most of an afternoon since I have three very enthusiastic and excited, but slow as molasses helpers. Plus, for the safety of those eating the cookies, we take lots of quick hand washing breaks because licking sugary fingers and picking noses are common practices. Sad, but true. The kids are the best Hershey kiss unwrappers in this fine country, if I do say so myself.  And polite, too. They asked if they could sample just one before they unwrapped the rest of the bag. How mean would I be if I had said no? So, one batch down, way too many to count left to go. We have lots of flour flying, Christmas singing, cookie sampling fun!

The helpful bakers

The willing taste tester

The tree is busy slurping water in its new home in our toy room. We didn't find a frasier fir that we liked so we ended up with a blue spruce. It's very pokey, which I thought would be a problem, but it actually serves as a natural consequence to our very curious little walker. Elliot walked up to the tree on the first day, spotted a Christmas bulb, said, "Throw ball" and tossed it on the carpet. Since then, he's been poked once and is keeping his distance. He is happy to set the rocking chair up in front of the tree and rock to his heart's content.

We had a great, chilly morning chopping our tree down. It involved many layers, much tromping around the tree farm, bumpy sled rides for the kids, and hot cocoa. I just love these family traditions, but even as I write that I remember being a teenager and rudely informing my mom with eye rolls and jaded comments oozing sarcasm that it was about the lamest and coldest way to spend an afternoon. I'm sure we'll meet resistance like that someday, but for now all three kids are on board and loved every minute of it.

We also discovered a new facet of Elliot's personality. Since he was so small last winter, we couldn't spend much time outside with him, but after Saturday's tree escapades I suspect Elliot is going to love winter. Not content to be pulled in the sled, he wanted to get out and lay down on the cold, hard, snowy ground. He would ask to get out, stand for a moment, slowly drop to one knee, then lean back and lay on the ground. He would remain in that position until the bright sun in his eyes bothered him enough that he would ask for help getting his little "I'm a turtle stuck on my back" body in an upright position. He repeated this scenario periodically the whole time we were there. It was so hilarious. It makes me even more antsy for some snow so I can get that sweet boy out to experience his first real winter.

Does this look like fun to you?

Elliot thought it was hilarious to play peek-a-boo in his many layers! The cutest part is that you still can't see him very well when he does the peek-a-boo part.

The sweetest decorating moment came when Isaac repeatedly asked if we could set up the nativity scene. Really, Isaac? Ask something repeatedly? How unlike him! : ) After I finished something with the ornaments, I opened the nativity scene box. "This is my favorite part of Christmas," he serenely stated as he carefully found a spot for the angel in the stable. "What's your favorite part?, I asked. He simply replied, "Jesus." There is so much fuss and running around at this time of year. He served as a great reminder that even as we prepare our home for Christmas, a wonderful, fun family time, to be sure, we should really be preparing our hearts for Jesus. Why do we hang stockings, exchange gifts, decorate Christmas trees? I've decided to consider them the world's coolest birthday party decorations for baby Jesus.

I'm sure Jim has something totally wonderful and well-thought out already decadently wrapped and hidden for just the perfect romantic Christmas moment. OK, that's just hilarious! But no matter what's under the tree, this is already the best Christmas ever. Although I do say that every year. I'm celebrating with my family in my warm home. I get to rest in the fact that God sent Jesus for me. I get to experience the beauty of the season through my three children's wide-eyed wonder. What could be better? I can't think of a single thing. Just in case you ever wonder.