Different. And The Same. - Part 1

I was at the YMCA the other day with my sister and a friend and our crazy little munchkins.  4-(almost 5)-year-old Emmi said to me, totally out of the blue, "Miss Ginger, how come Timon has brown skin?"  I was caught off guard but felt excited to have the first of countless conversations about skin color and our family with curious little kids.  I said, "I know!  Pretty crazy, huh?  God makes people with all different colors of skin!  He loves it!  He loves all the beautiful colors!  He makes some people with cream colored skin and some with light brown and some with dark brown or tan...all kinds of colors!  Isn't that so cool?!"

She stared at me for a split second and said, with the certainty and precociousness that is always present in her voice, (even when she's not certain at all) - "Well, white babies come from tummies.  But brown babies don't come from tummies."  This was not at all what I was expecting.  I said, "Actually, all babies come from tummies.  Timon grew in another lady's tummy.  Her name's Miss Nicole, and she has brown skin, too - just like his!"  Her mom, Sarah, jumped in at this point and said, "but Ginger gets to be Timon's Mommy."  Emmi, now a little confused, asked why.  Sarah told her that it was because God had a very special plan for our family.

And that was that.

Sarah is a friend of mine.  She is kind and thoughtful and sensitive, so she has asked many questions along the way about how I recommend that she talk to her girls about adoption.  She wanted them to understand it, and she (like most of us) had no idea how to explain such a complicated thing to them.  She knew that they would of course be confused when one day I suddenly had a baby without ever having a big belly.  I told her that we talk about it in terms of whose tummy the kids grew in.  We tell Douglas that he grew in Miss April's belly and that he was adopted.  We keep it pretty simple for now.

I was thrilled about this conversation with Emmi.  It was the first one like it, and it was fun to practice. That's the nice thing about having older kids around - they start asking questions way before Timon is aware of what we're talking about, so it gives me time to practice and fine-tune how I want to communicate this very important message to the people around us.

If someone were listening to this 4-year-old saying that white babies come from tummies but brown babies don't, they might have been offended by what she said.  But really it is a remarkable example of how a child's brain works.  She knew that Timon had brown skin.  She knew that he hadn't grown in my tummy - her mom had confirmed that.  So, the only natural inference to be made if you are a 4-year-old is that brown babies don't grow in bellies.  Simple!

Here's the thing.  Emmi is confident and precocious enough to ask when she is curious about something.  This is a part of her personality that, no doubt, leaves Sarah feeling a little embarrassed at times, but it is a wonderful trait in a lot of ways.  She said what other kids are thinking but are afraid to say.  This enabled me, an adult who cares about her, to understand her more and to inform her perception with truth and love.

My nephew Brendan is the same age and is a totally different personality.  Brendan was there that day and heard his good friend Emmi talking with me about all of this.  He's a perfectionist who doesn't want to disappoint or upset people.  And he's very emotionally tuned in to others - if someone in the room is sad or angry or fearful, he senses it.  So he would probably never have said those things that Emmi so brazenly said that day.  Maybe he would have asked, timidly, in the safety of his own home.  Probably not.  I capitalized on this opportunity and said to him later, "I'm so happy that Emmi asked me those questions today about Timon's brown skin.  She was brave to do that, wasn't she?  If you ever want to ask me any questions about Timon or about his skin or adoption, I want you to, ok?  Do you know that?"  He smiled and nodded his head.   

The point is, all kids are wondering these things - whether they ask us about them or not. 

You may not believe me.  Heck, I wouldn't have believed me a year ago.  In my next post, I'll share the information and research that crossed my path (twice) that completely changed my perspective on talking to kids about race - and my perspective on the idea of color blindness.

The Up Side

The good news is that I don't feel completely worked over by our children every day.  There are so many wonderful, beautiful, hilarious, super-fun minutes and hours and days.

Douglas is learning more and more about emotions, which I find fascinating and beautiful.  For a couple weeks, he kept saying, "Douglas fraid" about new people or things.  Recently, when he got into trouble, he bowed his head down in shame.  I said "Buddy, you don't need to be ashamed, you just need to look in my eyes and say that you're sorry.  You made a mistake.  It's ok."  He looked at me and said "shy."  Oh...I see.  You're shy?  The guy who likes to quote the line from Elf where Will Ferrell stands there singing loudly in a store...Douglas' version is "STORE!  SINGING!"  Yeah, super shy.  One of my favorites that he's learning to express is frustrated.  That one really cracks me up.  "Douglas frustrated" or, now that he's starting to use full sentences - "I very frustrated".  He'll see a random picture of a person or an illustration on a logo or sign and say "man sad?" if he thinks they don't look happy enough.  It melts my heart when he looks at me and says, "Mommy happy?"  Yes, buddy...I'm so very happy.

He also has a very strong sense of standing up for himself - something I think we will eventually be grateful for.  For now, it's a mixture of hilarious and super annoying.  The other night, Micah had a touch of frustration in his voice when he told Douglas to get in his chair for the third time.  Douglas said, "Don't yell at me!!"  If you try to nudge him gently in the right direction in a public place to say, "ok, buddy, time to walk this way", you are met with the very lovely "don't push me!" - which of course draws all kinds of judgmental stares.

He keeps surprising us with his funny, quirky little comments.  "Oh, I see."  "That's plenty."  "Hmm, let's see."  "Alrighty then."  "No way, Jose."  He obviously mimicks us and our sayings a lot, which is a little scary...but very hilarious.

There are moments when I am struck by how very blessed we are.  One of these moments came on this cool night when Douglas was "helping" Micah with the leaves in the back yard.  Watching them was mesmerizing.

Life is good.  Hard as the dickens sometimes - but good.

Timon is finding his voice more and more (it's a loud voice).  He rolls over and squeals with delight and talks to the ceiling or to his toys.  He has a precious, chubby face and loves loves loves to be around people.  He's discovered that those two hands that kept knocking him in the face and getting tangled in his hair are, in fact, his hands and can be used for things like holding toys or reaching up for Daddy or grabbing Grammy's face and pulling her close enough to get his entire mouth around her cheek for a kiss.  He has huge, adorable eyes that look like puppy dog eyes when he's sleepy and are full of light and joy when he's excited.  The older he gets, the more giggly he gets.  All signs seem to point to him being a very spirited, lively little fellow filled with gusto and joy and laughter.  And a temper to match.

The good news is, there is a Talk that I know very well that goes something like this - "passion is your gift, but there is a flip side to it that you have to reign in a bit (aka. the side that makes you yell at people)".  I know this Talk because my mom started giving it to me right around the time that I was old enough to speak.  So.  At least I'm prepared.  Sort of.

Douglas and Timon are starting to really become buddies.  It's so amazing.  When Timon's fussy, he calms right down if Douglas goes over and starts talking to him or just stands by him.  He loves looking at his big brother.  The other night, I was holding Timon at the dinner table.  He was sitting on my leg facing Douglas.  Timon gave him a big smile, as per usual, and Douglas cracked up.  Then Timon started laughing.  Then they broke out in a full-blown giggle sesh.  Nothing was said.  They just looked in each other's eyes and laughed harder than I've ever heard either of them laugh.  This went on for a couple minutes while Micah and I just smiled at each other and watched.  It reminded me of those times when you're slap happy and can't stop laughing.  When's the last time you laughed that hard?  Kids have so much to teach us.  Watching my two sons learn to really love and like each other and become friends is a more thrilling and joyful experience than I ever could have hoped for or imagined.  They are so lucky to have each other.  I am so grateful that they do.

Goodbye, January - Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out

January's over!  Good riddaaaaaance!!!!!

I struggle with feeling down in the dumps pretty much every single January.  The post-holiday letdown combined with frigid temperatures and generally bleak weather pretty much do me in.  I thought this year would be different because my post-holiday blues didn't start the moment I rolled out of bed on December 26th like they usually do.  I was all high and mighty, thinking my advent calendar experience helped me to enjoy the season SO much, be SO present that I wouldn't even be plagued by the usual letdown.

Well.  January took my high and mighty and gave it a beat down.

Having two kids is hard.  Have I said that before?

And, by the way, every time I say this, I have this nagging little voice in the back of my head that says, "You think two is hard!?  Try 3.  Or 4.  Or 5.  Or..."  All I can say is, "Hey voice.  Whatevs!  That doesn't do me any good today!"

I am realizing more and more that sometimes I have a really hard time sitting in pain and not panicking about the fact that the pain is there.  This doesn't always happen to me - I wasn't like this with fertility struggles or during the adoption processes - all very painful and difficult in ways.  But somehow, in cases like this where there is an enormous commitment and a major life change involved (and loss of sleep), I just freaking panic.

"It shouldn't feel this way.  It shouldn't be this hard. What is wrong?  I'm not cut out for this.  I must not be cut out for this.  I can't handle two kids.  What are we going to do?  How can we fix this, change it somehow?  IT SHOULDN'T BE THIS HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!"

To this, my amazing and insightful husband who knows me so very well, says, "Why wouldn't it be hard?  This is a huge adjustment.  Timon has been a really hard baby.  You're exhausted.  You haven't slept well in 5 months.  You've been super sick for two weeks.  Douglas is in a hard stage.  You're still adjusting to two kids.  Of course you're freaking out and of course things are super hard right now.  It's just a season."

To this, I say, "wow...that actually feels really good to hear.  Maybe I can stop bawling long enough to wipe the snot off of my face with something other than my sleeve.  Maybe it really is ok to just feel this way.  To feel freaked out and anxious and stressed and, some days, depressed and bored and like every day is Groundhog Day.  Maybe I can just feel those feelings and stop there instead of using them to launch a full blown attack against who I am as a person - assuming that those feelings somehow mean that I'm inadequate, not up to the task, incapable of doing this well.  Like God somehow made a gigantic mistake in giving me two children and asking me to help raise them.  Maybe it's ok to just feel like crap sometimes and not read anything more into it.  Life is just hard sometimes.  This is a hard season.  I am really tired.  End of story."

It's amazing how the initial feelings themselves aren't the really terrifying part.  It's my reaction to those feelings - my feelings about the feelings - that make me think my world is somehow ending.  And I do that extra-special thing where I assume that how I feel today is how I'll feel for FOR-EV-ER - so, you know, that helps a lot, too.

I am blessed to have several friends who have said some version of "yeah - I've been there.  It's total crap.  It's so freaking hard.  1 to 2 kids is the hardest adjustment of all.  You just have to survive it - get through it.  I promise you it gets better.  And if you need some meds to keep you afloat 'til then, then by God get you some meds, girlfriend."  I love these beautiful women.

I do know that it's not really ideal to try to just survive things.  Ideal would be staying present in the moment rather than just getting through it.  Finding peace in the midst.  But sometimes, some moments, some days, ideal is not possible.  And in those cases, I say hat's off to me for getting through.

 Photo taken by my very talented sister-in-law, Ashley

Some days I feel like everything is going to be ok and I'm going to get through this and everything's going to be fine.  Other days, I strap my kids into their car seats and drive aimlessly around town to avoid the weighty reality that I have two very high maintenance kids right now and I don't know what to do with them or how to keep us all from losing our freaking minds!

So here's what I'm doing.  I am reaching out for all the help I can get my little hands on.  We decided to have a babysitter come once a week during the day.  We hired a cleaning service.  My sister has made us dinners several times.  My mom has jumped in her car twice this past month after desperate phone calls from me that involved more tears and snot and "I can't do this anymore!"s.  She comes and gives me breaks that I desperately need - one day I went to a movie by myself and ate popcorn and drank a ginormous soda - it was magical.  She cooks healthy meals and loves on our kids and wakes up with Timon in the night so that I can get some sleep.

It makes me and Micah really sad sometimes not having any grandparents in town.  I am so very thankful for my mom's willingness to get in her car and come up to help during this crazy time, and for my dad who supports her doing that for me. 

Side note about my mom: I always secretly thought she had ADD because the fact that two of us kids have it means it's very likely that we inherited it from somewhere.  I realized last time she was here that, if she does have it, she has more long-term hyper focus moments (and days) than any ADD person I know.  She comes knowing that things are a bit of a mess around here, so she goes into hyperspeed.  I woke up one morning to find that she had done laundry, swept, and done dishes along with about ten other tasks that take me all day to get done - or sometimes DAYS.  I looked at Dougie and said, "Wow.  Grammy's kickin' A and takin' names!"  He stared blankly at me.  Her ability to hyper-focus and get things done is not what I'm most grateful for, though.  I am grateful for her willingness to show up and love the kids and me and Micah and give of her time and her energy for no other reason than because she loves us.  She gets very little in return other than several sleepless nights and, most times, a slew of germs and sicknesses to take back home with her.  Total win-win for her.  Obviously.

I have never been happier to see January 31st come and go.  We've been super lucky to have an unseasonably warm January, but there's still something about that month that just gets under my skin.  So.  February 1 came with rays of sunshine and 60 degrees.  I love you, February.  May you bring me sleep and patience and fairy dust that makes me nice and friendly to everyone.  Or, alternatively, fairy dust that I can sprinkle over my children to make them forget the times I screamed at them.

Although, truth be told, I agree with one of my friends who said that kids learn so much more from us making mistakes and humbling ourselves and asking their forgiveness than they would if we never made mistakes and were Mary-Freakin'-Poppins.  All that would teach them is that they need to try to be perfect - and who wants that for their kids?! 

Alright.  Teach kids that they don't need to try to be perfect by making lots of mistakes of my own.  CHECK.  Double check.

Cold and Sinus Adventures

I have a vicious sinus cold, compliments of Douglas, compliments of Mom's Day Out germs.  I took meds the last two nights to help me sleep because the night before that, I literally laid awake in bed all night silently reciting some version of the Niquil jingle -  "The sneezy, stuffy head, fever, headache, so you can rest medicine" - and thinking "why, WHY don't I keep Niquil on HAND in this house!?"  I'm not joking.  This is what I did all night.  I couldn't get the dang thing out of my head. 

I don't take medicine a ton because I somehow believe what I've read in natural medicine books that taking meds actually slows your body's healing because it dries out your nasal passages etc, etc.  And God knows, I don't want to be sick a day longer than I have to.  The fact that I rarely take meds combined with the fact that my body seems to be the most sensitive-to-drugs body on the entire planet means that, when I do take them, I'm usually in for quite a ride.

This morning, I dreamed that I was staying with a friend of a friend just outside of a beautiful city in Europe.  How I got there is a mystery because it started with a tragic love story where two lovers (neither of which were me, mind you) were forbidden to see each other by their families.  They saw each other again anyway, and just as they were trying to decide to do, in the center of town where they were standing, a bus pulled up that was one of those cheesy "travel Europe" buses.  They decided to jump on.  I remember in my dream thinking, "how are they going to pay for this?  How are they going to afford their lives in Europe?" 

Well, apparently I hopped on the tour bus, too, because suddenly I was Europe. 

I was staying at a friend of a friend's castle with my sister and brother-in-law.  Yes - castle.  So we're standing on top of this castle, on the roof as it were, and looking out over the beautiful landscape and city skyline.  Then somehow I was swept off the roof by a flying carpet.  And this was great fun until the wind picked up and took me way out away from the roof.  I yelled back to my sister that I didn't have my wallet or money or the address of where we were staying...our castle, you know.  I suddenly realized, while zooming around super high in the sky on a magic carpet, that I didn't have the means or the information to get me back to where we were staying or to the people I was with.  Thanks to some helpful winds and some mad carpet-flying skills, I managed to land back on the castle roof safe and sound.  Phew.

Imagine my surprise when I was awoken from my carpet-flying dream to a screaming baby in need of a bottle. 

Wow.  Helllllooooo cold medicine.  Nice to see you.

I decided that maybe this dream was trying to tell me that I'm worrying too much about logistical things in life (like how the lovers will pay for their runaway lifestyles and how I'll find my way back to the castle...while I'm flying on a magic carpet!!  Hello, missing the forest for the tree!).  Maybe I'm supposed to let go more and just receive what is happening in my life.  Sounds like a lesson I'm always in need of learning.  I do believe that life is always trying to point us back to Truth, so I guess cold medicine would count, too.  Just maybe.

I hope you have a stellar weekend.  The magic-carpet-flying kind.

I Hate You, Meat!

Well, it's official.  Meat is my arch nemesis.  I seriously want to punch it in the face.

My Naturopathic Doctor told me in May that when women come to him with any hormonal imbalances, his first step is typically to recommend that they go vegetarian for six months and see what happens.  Since I was already not eating dairy or eggs (because my body doesn't like them - eggs make me want to punch a wall and dairy makes my digestive system lash out irrationally), this meant that I became a vegan - except that I can eat seafood.  Vegan means no animal products - no dairy, eggs, meat, seafood.

So I jumped full-on into vegan life, and I totally noticed changes.  Many signs of hormonal imbalances went away.

Wellll...then came the holidays.  And I got a little too loosy goosy about it all.  And by a little, I really mean a lot.  It's much easier to go full-on vegetarian and just never have meat.  When you give in a time or two, it just makes it that much easier to keep giving in and eventually end up eating meat way too often.  The thing is, being a vegetarian can be a pain in the butt.  It's not ridiculously hard, but it does require discipline (in my case, because I love me some bacon - always have.  Maybe I need to find a YouTube video about how bacon is made...I think that would probably do the trick.)  And it can require planning at times, which can be obnoxious.  Going to a summer bbq as a vegan means you have to bring your own food - hello, grilled portabello mushrooms (they're actually very good)!  I was getting the hang of it, for sure, but it was just so easy to choose meat out at restaurants over the holidays instead of yet another salad without meat.

Last month I couldn't tell a huge difference when my period came (don't worry, any men out there, this is not going to get graphic).  I had only fallen off the wagon for about a week at that point, so my body wasn't freaking out yet.

I was curious to see what would happen this cycle since it had been a full month of meatiness.  I really did it up.  I didn't eat meat every day or anything, but many days I did.  I'm kindof bad at moderation sometimes.  I ate bacon, both pork and turkey versions (and when I eat bacon, I eat bacon.  Like five pieces).  Sausage.  Turkey.  More turkey.  I think there was some ham in there - yes, yes there was.  And even a few little party sausages for good measure - hey, they were in my Mom's amazing "Mexican Wastebasket Soup" that I love.  OH, and these amazing tasting - wait for it - venison and jalapeno bites wrapped in bacon and smoked (my brother makes them and they're bomb!).  Yeah.  Meat wrapped in meat.

Suffice it to say, this little 6-week detour DIDN'T GO WELL!  My period this cycle has been atrocious.  The most painful cramps I've had in over a year.  Horrible PMS mood swings.  Low back cramps that I had completely forgotten even existed.  I used to get them every month, but haven't in forever.  I feel like a truck ran me over and then realized it forgot something and backed up.  Slowly.  This is not a good thing when you have two little kids, both of whom happen to also be in bad moods for their own very special reasons.

I have a bad memory, and I don't always do what I know is best for my body (although I do work hard to at least try), so maybe this post will serve as a reminder to me to STAY AWAY FROM MEAT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!

The reason I'm telling you this is two-fold.  One, I'm pissed and PMSing, so I wanted to yell and vent.  Two, if any of you ladies out there feel like your hormones are a little whacky, you might want to try going vegetarian for a while to see what happens.  If you're going to do it, you have to really do it - I mean, don't just eat rice cakes and cereal all day like I did my first few weeks as a vegan.  That won't really give you much of anything (obviously).  Eat tons of fruits and vegetables.  Take a B-12 supplement and a multi-vitamin  and research it enough to make sure you're covered on your nutrients.  This site has helpful information on key nutrients for vegans or vegetarians to be aware of.

The other day, I was talking to the manager at one of the health food stores I frequent.  I was telling her about how meat just really messes with me hormonally.  She said that in her 30's, she started going into very early pre-menopause and was having lots of hot flashes.  She started buying and eating only organic meat, dairy, and eggs.  Her hot flashes went away completely within a couple months.  Recently (years later), she got laid off from her previous job at a health food store, so she couldn't afford organic anymore.  Within a month, her hot flashes were back.  They're gone again now that she's back to eating organic.  Her hormonal imbalances were directly related to the hormones in non-organic meat, dairy, and eggs.

Before the past few days, I was planning to do another experiment soon, once I balance back out with my vegan diet.  I was going to eat meat 1-2 times/week for a month- ONLY ORGANIC - and see what happened...see if my hormonal balance stayed intact.  Now that I'm a hot mess, I'm thinking I'll wait a little while before throwing another experiment into the mix.  But if you're someone who doesn't want to try going vegetarian but does want to experiment with this, then take a few months and choose organic meat, dairy, and eggs.  Those three categories are huge sources of hormones.

You hear stories of this or that organic company who is cutting corners and still marketing their product as organic even when technically it's not.  This is the exception, not the rule.  There are many companies out there that are totally legit.  And I think it's silly to hear those stories and think, "well, then I'll just never buy organic."  Conventional dairy and meat and eggs are huge sources of unhealthy hormones and antibiotics as well as all kinds of other nasty additives.  I really believe we would all greatly benefit from choosing organic in these areas if we can afford it.  The store manager's story is not an isolated one - there are countless others just like it.

All I'm sayin' is this.  I HATE MEAT!  I mean, I love meat, but I HATE it!  My body, for now, hates it.  And maybe it just hates conventional, hormone-laced meat.  I guess I'll find that out another month.  But if my body hates it THIS much, I have a sneaking suspicion that I'm not the only one...maybe some of you readers' little bodies hate it, too.  Let me know if you think that's you.  We can be vegan buddies - or vegetarian buddies.  I'll send you my recipe for Vegan Energy Bars - sounds disgusting, tastes amazing.  I will not, however, send you the recipe for bacon-wrapped venison wads.  You're welcome.

The Down Side

As my favorite blogger, Glennon said to me in our one email exchange, "my kids whooped my ass today."  That pretty much sums up my day.  There's really just no other way to put it.

One moment Douglas was using his almond butter-caked fork from breakfast to paint a beautiful picture all over the newly cleaned kitchen window.  The one that spent months looking like we had sprayed fake snow on it to be festive when really it was just that dirty...until I finally made the time (2 minutes) to clean it a few days ago.  I had a hard time finding the artsy beauty in Douglas' almond butter drawing.  In those moments, I always think to myself, "See?  Why do I even try to clean?!"  Later, Douglas decided to spend his naptime screaming "Mommy hold you" from his bed - over and over and over again for no apparent reason.  (He really means "mommy hold me" btw - we're still working on object pronouns.)

He so looks like he's up to something

Tag-teaming with all of this specialness was little brother who seemed to know when Douglas was done causing a ruckus and would instinctively start his own.  Timon has recently decided to start teething.  Just when we seemed to be over the worst of his digestive issues, BAM!  Teething. 

There were actually four days in there, over Christmas, when he went down for naps like I wanted him to - without endless bouncing up and down and shhhhing and rocking and every manner of trickery to get him down.  I would take him upstairs to his room at my parents' house, cuddle and bounce him for about a minute, and lay him down.  And he slept.  His smiley, laughing side has been coming out more and more, so for those five days, I thought, "Wow!!  This is it!  He was just going through a rough spell, but he's going to be this pleasant, easy, cheesy grinning, cheerful little version of himself now!  Easy peasy!" 

Five days.  Then the drool came.  And the crying.

For the record, I do think that he will be a cheerful, fun little guy - when he's not teething.

On our way home from Texas after Christmas, we made it 10 minutes into our 6-hour drive before Timon started crying.  Crying turned into wailing before we could pull the car off on the side of an exit ramp.  I spent ten minutes bouncing him and shhing him and trying every other trick in my book to get him to calm down.  We were just past a gas station and directly in front of a tiny storage unit place where I'm sure the worker was getting a real kick out of the show.  And by the way, when I say bouncing, I really mean squatting repeatedly.  It's this trick I learned in Baby Yoga.  They're called Divine Drops and they basically involve holding the baby close and secure at your chest, and then doing squats.  The harder the baby is crying, the faster you do them.  They typically calm an unhappy baby almost instantly.  We did it a ton with Douglas. I've done it with various babies, and it works! 

Well, not this day.  There I was, on the side of the road, manically bouncing up and down in and out of  squats with a screaming baby in my arms.  This scream was unlike any I'd ever heard him use before.  It was like he was either in excruciating pain or terrified.  Or probably both.  It finally stopped after we gave him a couple homeopathic remedies, teething gel, and Micah stuck his finger in his mouth for chewing.  Then he passed out. 

Micah looked at me a few minutes later and said, "what if this is what teething is like for him?!"  Our eyes both widened in terror and dismay.  Say it isn't so.

With teething apparently comes naps no longer than 30 minutes for Timon. And lots of crying and yelling. I was a hot mess by the time Micah came home.  I'm slowly recovering.  I almost went to bed at 7:30 but instead decided to try a candlelit bath and some creative outlet therapy.  So I'm sitting in bed with all the lights out, candles glowing, and spa music playing.  And the small Christmas tree in our room is lit - because we both love it so much we decided to keep it in here for a while longer even though I was actually ready this year to take down the rest of the decorations.  (This, by the way, I attribute to the advent calendar.  It really worked!  I sucked the marrow out of Christmas so much that, for perhaps the first time ever, I was willing to let it go when December 26 came around.  Even a little bit excited I dare say.  Much more enjoyable than feeling full-on depressed.)

Hopefully tonight I won't dream of screaming babies or whining toddlers.  Crossing my fingers I'll dream of nothing but fluffy white clouds and warm sunshine and, I don't know, frolicking in a meadow or something.

Holiday Recap

Happy New Year!!! 

The other day I wrote a post called "The Down Side" about having a rough day in Mom-land, followed by one called "The Up Side" where I gain a little perspective after venting for a half hour.  I decided that I should hold off on posting The Down Side for a few days, though...felt like my first post of the new year should be more positive.  Sooo, I'll start with a little Christmas recap - try to put a little skip in my step this first week of 2012.  (Really, though, I'm so tired I feel like my shoes are filled with lead so putting a skip in my step is more of an idea than it is any sort of reality today.) 

It was so incredibly fun watching Douglas as he learned about Christmas.  One day, he sat at the kitchen table and sang "Happ Birfday Jesuus!  Happ Birfday Shiny Reindeer!!"  It's confusing sometimes - all the stories tend to run together.  He still walks around saying "little drummer boyee!?" whenever he wants to play his drums - he IS the little drummer boy.  Few things are more precious than him walking around singing "parum pum pum! Parum pum pum!" over and over.

We had a lovely Christmas with most of my family in Texas.  My sister and her sweet family weren't there, and we really missed them.  The whole family stood around the computer and skyped with them in CA on Christmas night.  This picture cracks me up because there is a baby under that Santa hat - my baby!!...the picture that followed this one was of Aunt Heather saving him.

Douglas loves his cousin Elizabeth (Buh-beth) and she loves Douglas (Dou-las). 

There were so many beautiful, fun, festive moments. 

There was a breakfast-for-dinner picnic by the tree followed by a Brother Snuggle which is a new fan favorite.

Although in this pic Timon looks rather unimpressed...usually he's giggling when this happens.

And a festive holiday light/North Pole display in Grapevine, TX complete with a set-to-music light display that was super impressive.  The night ended with a dance party in the gazebo in town square with a million lights flashing around us and Christmas classics blaring over the speakers.  No doubt some little kid just started dancing up there and it prompted a full-blown Christmas rave with lots of tiny little dancing munchkins and their families.  SO FUN.

Check out Elizabeth in the background - cracks me up

There was Turkey smoking, thanks to my brother, Jeremy.

And holiday decorations at The Gaylord hotel - Douglas just stood there with his finger pointed and moved his hand all around, mouth wide open, because there were endless things he wanted to point at in awe and wonder.

My mom did an amazing job decorating the house, as always.  That is one of many, many ways that she has always made Christmas such a special time.  I am grateful for her countless hours of work to get the house to look so incredible. 

We had a Christmas Eve fireside reading of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Douglas decided that night that he was afraid of Santa.  I don't blame him.  I mean, when you're that little and just learning all of this stuff, it would be a little freaky to hear before bedtime that some strange man is going to come down your chimney into your house while you're sleeping!  I explained to him that Santa is happy and jolly and kind.  He looked at me and said, "jolly happy soul?"  Yes.  That's right.  Just like Frosty, Santa is a jolly, happy soul.  He must have gotten over his fear, because a few days later, he frantically said multiple times "Santa, hold you!" when he was afraid of the duct-cleaning men in our house.  Yesterday he couldn't get the lid to his smoothie to open, so he said "Santa help you." I think the fact that Santa brought him this sweet tent and tunnel might have something to do with him getting over his fear!

It was so fun to watch Douglas and Timon being loved and treasured by my family - they always are, but somehow the backdrop of twinkly lights and Bring Crosby makes it all the more beautiful.

Elizabeth trying on the hat that I made for her, complete with interchangeable flowers - HOLLAH!  And, yes, I do know that that flower is half the size of her head, but, people, believe me, this Texas Bow-head can handle it - this isn't even big for her!

 

Douglas absolutely loves being around family.  There were several times when I looked at him and saw his face filled with sheer joy.  The mixture of family and music and dancing and special activities and talk of Christmas was enough to make him nearly burst with happiness...for hours at a time.  It was seriously magical to watch.

I hope your Christmas was filled with a little magic of your own - or buckets full.  Happy, happy New Year.  Here's to new beginnings - ones that are filled with hope.