Mini Man

This was Lissa's present to her Dad for Christmas.
It's a replica in miniature of his desk! And himself!

The resemblance is uncanny.

She was going to do one of me, too, but she didn't want to have to make a miniature couch.

Sing Along

This is how Anderson harmonized with the family as we sang carols on the way to town yesterday:

Angels we have heard on high, I just wish that they would die. Hah, hah hah hah hah (etc. in place of the glorias.)

Rudolph the Red nosed Reindeer (Stupid!) had a very shiny nose (like my family!). And if you ever saw it (So Annoying!) You would even say it glows (This song is stupid!)

The first Noel, the angels did say (you guys are so annoying!)

Jingle Bells, my family smells. Oh I hate this song!

And yet, this morning he was looking at Space Station Nathan's latest entry for the 12 days of Robo-Santa. And singing along. In tune.
When he got to the Six Geese-o-matics he sang, "These geese-o-matics are just the coolest!"



Thanks, Nate. The rest of us just aren't awesome enough to bring the Christmas spirit to some people.

Toddler Times

How to appreciate your two-year-old in the middle of a high-power tantrum: Dress them in stripey tights.

That's all it takes for me.
There is just something hilarious about the flailing blur of stripey legs that brings up all my childhood Suess-induced giddiness.

Rosalie did not appreciate my levity. Nor my photography. She took steps.


My doom approaching.

I recognized the danger, but was unable to remove myself due to paralyzing spasms of laughter mixed with trying to hold the camera steady.

I've heard this age called pre-adolescence. It's the mood swings. Just the other day Rosalie told me, after a bit of mom-initiated snuggling, "Mom, you love me soooo FAT!"

Yes, I do.

At Peace

I have finally ended my search for the perfect Christmas stockings!

(For those of you who live back east, these come from the Christmas Tree Shops and they are cheap. (Though they seem well made.) For those of us who live in the West, the only way I know how to get them is ebay. For more than cheap. But still way less than most wool knit stockings. )
Casey doesn't believe this will end my obsession. He thinks this is simply a yearly itch I get that will never go away, like my quest for the perfect swimsuit.

But look at these--they fit all my criteria: same size and shape, same color scheme, seven different patterns for ease of identification, and a nice chunky hand knit (or looks it) in wool! They do have floating strings inside, but like my mom's handmade stockings, they don't seem to get in the way. I plan to line them anyway to be sure they don't snag.

You'll have to admit they are a vast improvement from my former lineup.

Plus this year I attached all the stocking hangers to a board to make them more stable and keep them spaced. I may anchor it to the wall. You can see how the green present is dented on one side from being pulled down by some child who thought she/he could swing on the stocking. Luckily no one was concussed.

Having children with opinions means that I don't get to hang them in the order I would prefer--red cuff, green cuff, red cuff, green cuff, etc. But that's just my OCD kicking in and, luckily, I'm easily distracted. Maybe that's why it took so long for me to find the perfect collection.

Happy Christmas Season!

(With our teeny-tiny amount of snow, Lissa made a teeny-tiny snowman.) (He looks quite festive, don't you think?)

Standing for Something

This summer Casey's sister Sarah got married.
The ceremony and reception were held in a beautiful park. There were flowers everywhere. The tables were decorated in red and gold and lavender. My family was dressed in the same. We all looked great.
There was a DJ who played pop songs and acted as the Master of Ceremonies. There was also an open bar. My younger children were fascinated by the tall plastic flutes being handed out filled with pale yellow bubbly. I made sure they got only the non-alcoholic version, which I also got for myself.
At one point the DJ called for the friends and family of Sarah and Sean to give toasts. We all raised our glasses after each person expressed their best wishes.
When the toasts were over I noticed my oldest daughter, Anika, looking a little down. I offered her a drink from my cup, noticing she didn't have one. She said no with a slow shake of her head and a look of such sadness--and I suddenly saw what she was thinking.
"Anika, this is non-alcoholic!"
"Really?! Oh!"

In the face of what she saw as her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and even grandparents abandoning their cherished beliefs, Anika refused to partake. She stood for what she knew was right.

And there is no way that I can say all I feel about this, and about her. (I've embarrassed her enough as it is.) But as her mom, and as an admirer here's how I sum it up: This girl will do just fine.

Captured by Russians

The newest obsession is Russian nesting dolls. Rosalie doesn't have one of her own, so she borrows Anderson's, Meri's, and Grandma's. All at the same time.
The endless loop of taking them all apart and then putting them all back together is mesmerizing. But just try carrying several pieced wooden dolls everywhere you go. They are prone to coming apart without warning, hitting the tile floor with a truly shattering sound. This has gone on for days and days.

Yesterday, they trapped her on the trampoline.
Meredith came to tell me that Rosalie was crying for me. When I got close enough I could see that she wasn't hurt. She just couldn't climb down while holding a doll in each arm.

We've made numerous trips through the field to put "Gurma's doll" back in its place. Rosalie goes and gets it again when I'm not looking. But by evening yesterday she was beginning to feel the weight. With two armfuls of wood she quavered, "I wanna go home."
"We are home, sweetheart."
"Unna go Gurma's house."
The sob building in her voice prompted me to take another look. She looked like I feel when it's past time to put the kids to bed. Luckily, Aunt "Bictoria" was just heading to Grandma's. Rosie let go of her burden with obvious relief.

Today, she has all three dolls again. And there's one in the mail with her name on it.