Christmas

I'm getting this Christmas post up today if it kills me! The last 2 weeks of December were packed to the gills. It was crazy and chaotic and so much fun.  Not to mention that the presence of my out-of-town family coated over the less awesome parts of the month. Here is the High-Low report.

High:

Finishing my mother in law's and mom's silhouette necklaces in plenty of time and loving them.


High:

Ava composing a letter to Santa, insisting on a stamp, and droping it into our mailbox.

A week later, Santa's surprise reply arrives:

And Ava writes him the following:

"Dear Santa, thank you for the letter.  I didn't know that Frosty was real.  Have you ever seen Chipee?"






High:   

My sister and her family arriving at our house and a full week of cousin loving and hanging out begins with the trampoline

and the Wii

Low:

Ava becoming the first victim of an upper respiratory infection.  We pull out old Nebby the Nebulizer and begin the every 4 hour routine.

Ava prefers to take her breathing treatments through the peace pipe method.  I liked to call it the Peace on Earth Pipe in honor of the holiday,

High: 

Dan's desired Spritz cookies turning out wonderfully, 

   

And provide a great way to woo Sage.  

Though she'll only take the pink ones.

High:

We all fit in my parents house for Christmas Eve dinner. 

And it was delicious.  

Filet Mignon, shrimp, salad, roasted vegetables.

High:

The annual re-enactment of the Christmas Story had enough cast members

  Jesus' birthday cake reminded the kids why we celebrate and was delicious.

The BYU water bottles from my brother and his wife were a perfect Christmas Eve present. (Thanks, Bret and Christina!)

High/Low (depending on perspective):

The kids playing deteriorated into running laps around the pool table.

Low:

3am Christmas Eve, Luke wakes up unable to breathe.

After a ineffective breathing treatment at home, a dose of epinephrine and steroids at the emergency room, opens him up.

Nebby picks up another client and Luke is the 2nd victim of the respiratory infection.

High:

Christmas morning goes off without a hitch despite our trip to the hospital, hours prior.

High/Low (again depending on perspective):

The Chocolate chip cookie contest.

When I was in Chicago, I casually mentioned that I had a really good recipe.  Then Ian challenged me to a duel.  Leah stuck up for Chris's recipe and soon we had a competition on our hands. Mom didn't want to be left out either.

I don't know what happened but mine didn't win.  Dan promises that he still likes mine the best, but I fear he is slightly biased.

High:

Sofia gets baptized.

It was an absolutely excellent experience.   It's times like these when I get so drunk on the spirit I want to pass out that feeling like candy. Everyone should feel it.

High:

Filling up the frame of this picture with so many people that I love.

Low:

Max enters the breathing treatment rotation as the 3rd victim.  At least after watching his sibling for the past few days, he's an eager participant.

High:

A trip to the Arboretum.

High:

Lining up these guys

Low:
Missing Bret's face.  (and body, and wife, and kids)

So we took a picture with Dan, in case by some miracle, I can successfully swap his head out for Bret's.

High:

Getting another month done for the calendar.

High:

Ava having serious bonding time with Sofia.

Low:

Having her cry on my lap the day after they left saying, "I just miss Sofia so much!"

Low:

The unfortunate dismemberment of Buzz LightYear

High:

Going to the BYU bowl game.

And that, my friends, is a wrap.


I'm no good at math, but the highs definitely exceeded the lows.  It was a great Christmas and now I'm looking forward to 2012.

10 Years

One of my favorite things is when our eyes meet

-in admiration, in disappointment, in awe, in amusement, in love-

over something our children are doing or saying or feeling.

It's a moment of mutual understanding, when I couldn't feel closer to any other person on earth. An understanding felt just between us for these little creatures we created together.

From beginning to end, and all the stuff in the middle, we are doing, feeling, creating, and loving it together.

The Circle of Life

Growing up we never lived near my grandparents, except for a four year stint in Kentucky.  Whether it was conscious or not, I was raised on the idea that you went where life took you as opposed to picking a place and then looking for a life. I don't think one notion is necessarily better than another, but it does play into how I envisioned my future.  Of course, I would love to live near either of our families but Dan, even though he didn't move much as a child, agreed that we would go where the job was.  I never imagined that we would live here, where we do, near my parents.

Finding out that we were moving to Dallas last year was so surprising.  Our home found us (because that's what homes do), a mere two minutes from my parent's original house here.  That means that we were somewhat familiar with the area seeing as how over the last 5 years, we have visited these streets, parks, stores, etc.

I have found myself, on more than one occasion, having deja vu sort of moments.

Standing in the park.

It is 2001, the summer after my first year of college.  Dan has brought me "home" to Texas and to meet my parents.  Texas isn't home to me.  I don't know anyone or have any friends.  I'm not familiar with the roads, the stores, the anything.

We are doing some fun things while he is here.  We drove to Arkansas to visit my sister, Chandra's family.  We went boating, took walks.

And we fed the ducks at the neighborhood park.

 I'll be a monkey's uncle if Dan doesn't look to be 14 years old in this one.

And now, 2011, I am standing in the same park as my children scale the jungle gym, scream down the slides, and swing on the swings.

I drive past the park and the lake every morning as I drop Ava at school and see the colored sky peeking over the trees and I am back where we started.



In the mall.

It is later that same summer of 2001.  Dan is back.

This time we are wandering the jewelry stores looking at diamond rings.

And now 2011, we are taking the kids to the play place

 and going for pleasure rides on the escalators.

To someone who grows up and lives in the same place or grows up knowing where they'll be, this may be ordinary.  But to me, feeling that out of the entire world to choose from, the fact that we are right here, right where we started is... weird?  crazy? ironic? coincidental? fate?  Fill in the appropriate word because I haven't figured it out.


There is one place though, from that summer of 2001, that we hadn't been back to.  And unlike the others, it didn't hold a great spot in either of our memories.  I couldn't remember anything about Six Flags except one ill-fated bench.

Six Flags was the last stop on our itinerary before Dan returned to Utah after his first initial visit.  His flight would leave early the next morning.  As the afternoon turned to evening, and I started to anticipate his departure, I got kind of crazy.  I didn't want him to go, but mostly I didn't want him  to go without giving me the ultimate commitment.  I knew that he was the one for me.  And I had told him that a time or two before. He said he needed more time.

There on the bench, near the end of the day, I started to cry. Really, really, really cry.  I begged, pleaded, tried to convince him to just tell me that I was it, I was the one for him. Again, he told me he needed more time.

And that was the very last thing I wanted to hear.  I was either right for him or I wasn't.  It was either now or not.  And I wanted now. In truth, I never would have broken up with him, it was just that I could not imagine anything more torturous than loving him a few more months (years?) and then have him decide that he didn't want me.  I may have been young, but I knew my own mind.  I knew that by putting it all out there as I had done, I was literally setting my little thumping heart into his hands.  The longer he made me wait, the more I thought I would die.

And that is how I sounded on the bench at Six Flags.  Like I was dying.  Multiple people stopped to see if I was okay.  Multiple people asked me if I needed help with my boyfriend and gave him the stink eye.  I really wanted to say "Yes, please beat this boy into submission and tell him that he must be mine forever!"  But all I could do was say, "I'm okay" between hysterical sobs.

Pathetic is probably the most accurate descriptor.  I look back now and still feel bad for myself.  I was so young and felt so scared and vulnerable and I just  needed that reassurance so badly.  But he wouldn't give it to me.  We left Six Flags.  We went back to my parents house where I resumed the pleading and sobbing on my parent's couch into the wee hours of the morning.

And then he left.


According to him, it only took a few days of being apart and he was sure, I was the one.  Given the details I have just described above, that is obviously an absolute miracle.

This Thursday we will have been married for ten years.  And yesterday we went to Six Flags to take care of some unfinished business.

We got there when it opened.  We rode a roller coaster.  We ate some lunch.  We rode a few more rides.

Then we found a bench.  We shared a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich. Back and forth we passed it, biting the cookie and licking the ice cream, until one last glob sat in Dan's fingers.

"You aren't going to eat the last bite?" I questioned.

"I was.  But I think I owe you." he said. And he dropped the last bite into my mouth.

A month and a half ago

Max turned two, it was Halloween, and then all of the sudden November was gone and had taken half of December right along with it.

We did have a little family party for Max before things go too far, complete with cake, ice cream, and presents.

But since the December days are disappearing, I figured today was the day for his two year pictures, even if it was so cloudy there was no light to bounce off of his beautiful blue eyes.

They are done, though, which is more than I could say yesterday.

Here is my gigantic baby, in all his two year old glory.


I'm sure you will notice the presence of Buzz Lightyear and it should also be noted that under his sweater he is wearing a Toy Story pajama shirt he wasn't going to remove without a brawl.

His classic furrowed brow:

I must point out the size of his hands in this one.  He reminds me of a little puppy with gigantic paws.

America's got skillz

I am aware that this post is not exactly holiday-relevant.  But yesterday was Pearl Harbor Day and when your shy baby asks you to film her singing and she picks a non-holiday song in December, you just go with it.

Veteran's Day was last month, and for the occasion, Ava learned the song I'm Proud to be an American at school.  She had some trouble remembering the words.  About the time she was coming home singing and asking for help with what she couldn't remember, I was finishing up the book "Unbroken" for book club.

The story is of an Olympic runner, Louie Zamperini, who ends up as a Japanese prisoner of war during World War II.  The book was so eye opening for me.  I didn't pay much attention in history class, so embarrassingly enough, this book taught me a lot of things about the war that I probably already should have known. Confession: I once received a detention in high school for saying, "I hate you" to my history teacher. 

I turned the pages as fast as I could read them, though, and with awe and horror and respect and shock I made my way through the book and then passed it on to my dad, a  history buff I knew would appreciate it.  He then passed it to my mom and between the three of us we had the nice satisfying discussion I was hoping for at book club, that for some reason, just didn't happen for me.

If you haven't read it, I would highly recommend it.  I have an new appreciation for America and mostly for those who have and do sacrifice everything for it.  And it's not new but I have added Louie's shining testament of Jesus Christ and His ability to heal every kind of wound to my own.

So as I helped Ava remember the words,

I'm proud to be an American, 

where at least I know I'm free. 

I won't forget the men who died,

who gave that right to me.

And I'll gladly stand up next to you

and defend her still today.

Because there ain't no doubt, 

I love this land.

God Bless the USA

they absolutely took on a new meaning and I will never sing that song the same way. I think books like this should be required reading for life.

And for your listening pleasure, here is Ava and I'm Proud to be an American.

You too may find the words take on new meaning, especially with Ava's creative interpretations. 

My favorites include "...defend her skills today..."  and "...there ain't no doubt, I love this maaaan!"