last day of the year

I've just not been in the mood this year, folks.  But I love this little bliggity blog and all that it is for me -- a journal of the little details of life that are sure to be forgotten and lost if I don't record them somewhere, a way to share the cuteness with family far away, a little bit of release and self-therapy, something to do with the photos I take every day or a reason to keep taking them -- so... here goes.

It was a big New Year's Eve around here!  Owen did his second consecutive poop on the potty (getting number two to splash down has been an ongoing challenge), and Bob lost his first tooth!  I had been naming all the ways that the tooth could fall out before midnight, and then what do you know, it happened.  Bob was messing with the tooth while snuggling his blankie and playing duplos with Owen and Maisy and suddenly, "Um, I'm sorry to tell you, but--" and I turned around and there he was holding it out in his hand, licking a little drop of blood off his lip.  He put that first fallen piece of his mouth's babydom into an envelope which he lettered "TOOTH" and at bedtime he snuck it under his pillow.  Bob had high hopes of staying up until midnight this year but instead we had an extra silly silly time and cheered Happy new year! at 8:00 before settling into bed.  I promptly forgot about the tooth until after Bob had woken me up in the morning, but I was able to save the magic by suggesting that he had checked under his pillow when it was actually still night and asking him to put something away while I ran upstairs and made the switch.  A note and 50 cent coin were then discovered with much excitement.  And so we entered the new year.

I technically stayed awake into 2015, but I was upstairs getting Maisy back to sleep and then I fell asleep too and didn't make it back down until Ben and our one guest had retired as well.  No exciting party tales.

The "New Year" doesn't really stir all that much emotion in me.  Because if you want to change something about your life, there is absolutely no reason to wait until January to do so.  January isn't exactly the most inspiring time of the year for me; it is cold and dark and there is still a whole lot of winter ahead.  But that's not to say that I'm immune to reflection, and 2014 was a bit of a difficult one I guess.

Is it possible for one year to simultaneously be the best and worst of your life thus far?  I think: yes?  I can see so much blessing this past year: a cozy home in a beautiful place, a loving hard working husband, two sweet sons, the welcoming of our precious daughter, health, a productive garden and always enough food.  Really, life is good.  I'm really lucky and not complaining.  And yet, my heart has been heavy.  Heavy, heavy.  There have been some heavy, heavy thoughts weighing on my heart and mind ALL THE TIME.  Heavy.  That's the only word.

In the true fashion of a long line of feeling-suppressors, I've been mastering a combination of numbing and bottling up my dark thoughts, to the point where the resulting mass inside me may have been crushing my heart a little bit.  Which finally led to a recent spewing of truths to a couple of trusted individuals, which was not easy for me, but which I've realized was completely necessary.  (I heard all those whiches but I'm rolling with it.)  We can't battle our demons alone.  We can't.  We need to bring them to light and let someone say, "Wow, that is a lot for you to carry, you need to drop that load right now."  And we need to cry and let it out and just feel up the feelings sometimes.  I need to afford myself the same grace I try to extend to my children -- that feelings are a-okay and we need to let them out, not lock them in.

The art of hiding behind a humor of sarcasm, while perhaps making me amusing to be around at times, hasn't exactly fostered a host of lifelong connections with other vulnerable human beings.  And that right there, that's been another lonely realization to come to terms with.

In the fall of 2013, I lost a friend.  She didn't die, she just stopped calling, but it almost felt like I was grieving a death.  Or a breakup perhaps.  It was like being broken up with, but not even told.  My girlfriend, my one local friend that I actually saw regularly, explained that she was "maxxed out" at the moment and that was that.  And it hurt so much.  And I started to realize -- and all through the next year the realization sunk in deeper -- that somehow, 30 years in, I had no friends.  (Not true; I have two or three, or four if you include my husband!)  I've always felt like I had friends, never felt hated, everyone has always been friendly to me, and yet it's clear now that my high school Spanish teacher was right -- these people that you think are your friends are not really your friends, and you will have only two or three real friends that last in your life.  We laughed at her, my "friends" and I -- ha ha! we have dozens of best friends and always will!  Well.  I can't even remember the teacher's name but I remember that one conversation vividly.  And you know, it gives me some consolation knowing that I'm not alone, even if facebook and tweeter and instograham can make it seem like I am.

I know now that real friends are the ones who, when you finally let down your guard and say I need you, they come running.  Like, right then.  That same day.  And I know now that I am very lucky to have even a couple of friends like that.

I think, this new year (see here I am getting on the bandwagon after I already declared that I don't do that sham!) I'd like to let myself be a little more vulnerable.  I'd like to meet a new friend, and actually open myself up to her so that she can do the same, and also I want to really be there for the people I know, and tell them so, so that they can call on me and know I'll come running.

Boom.

And now I can (hopefully) get on with my regular lighthearted record keeping, and do a massive recap catchup, and move on into this new year with self-forgiveness and acceptance and grace and trust in God that all will work for good if I seek Him.

the christmas spirit

We've been hunkered down sick, but hunkered down with plenty of Christmas spirit.  The anticipation has been mounting and at this point Bob is absolutely oozing with excitement.  Yesterday morning he ran into my room and jumped in the bed and shout-whispered, "I'm so happy because tomorrow is the day before Christmas Eve!"  And today, "I know it's a very busy day today because I know that Christmas Eve comes tomorrow!" 

Owen is completely obsessed with making "gingerbread" cookies (I have yet to actually make gingerbread... today is the day though!  or tomorrow...)  He'd prefer to make the real deal of course, but play doh pretending is almost just as good -- in some ways better because he has complete control over all aspects of cookie cookery.  Yesterday a wrapped package of mini cookie cutters appeared under the tree and let's just say Wooden spent the entire day at the table playing; I'm talking about 6+ hours all together.  And yep, he's right back at it today.  Pupper's been there much of the time too, but he's half as obsessed as little bro.  Best $4 spent this Christmas.

Maisy Lou, she's just the sweetest age -- intrigued by all the new twinkle in our home, rolling here and there and under the tree, but just young enough that she's not much of a menace yet.  (And I say menace in the most endearing way possible; we love our baby menaces.)  We picked up Lucy and Tom's Christmas at the library last time around (super sweet, by the way) and Bob and I have fun imagining Maisy playing with the wrapping paper on Christmas morning and falling asleep in a pile of it like the baby in the book.  Paper is her favorite these days when she can get her hands on it.

Last year we had trouble understanding the idea of giving which was partly due to age and perhaps partly my fault... I made the mistake of putting tiny toys or treats in the daily advent drawers and that totally overshadowed all else.  This year our drawers contain only our advent story books and little notes with suggestions for acts of kindness from our friend Elfie (who disappeared to the North Pole for repair somewhere around December 4th and has yet to return).  The boys also have chocolate advent calendars from Grandma which, let's be honest, are probably their favorite part.  What's fun is that Bob is really starting to get the giving... For Owen he made a stuffed millipede (Wooden once declared "millipede" to be his favorite word), for Maisy he painted an egg carton into... something, and for Dad he helped make... something else.  All really thoughtful gifts that warmed my heart like crazy.

Ben and I wrapped the kids' presents tonight while watching a cheesy Christmas movie and it was utterly romantic.  And now it's wicked late and I best get myself to bed.  I can't wait to see how excited Pup is tomorrow morning that it's Christmas Eve!  We'll be baking cookies for Santa and making a banner for Jesus and I can't be my best without rest!

One last thing for tonight... Self-timer Christmas card photo -- BOOM!  That there's one of my favorite outtakes.  Getting the little boy people to cooperate for a posed photo is not easy... unless you bribe them with hot chocolate!  Made what would normally be a quick series of forced smiles into a cute lil fun time.

Have a merry one!

sickies

We've been pretty pathetic around here since I last wrote.  There's a nasty virus hanging around and the kiddos have all been suffering in varying degrees depending on the hour -- culminating with a vomiting Maisy for the past couple of days.  The good news is that despite all the boogers still drooping, we seem to be on the upswing.  (I hope!)  It's been a good (bad) two weeks of sickness now, pretty much quarantined in the cabin, and I am over it.  Times like these make me wish for a troupe of friends and family that would swoop in with some home cooked or take out dinners and therapeutic bath soaps or sick baby holding services.  But alas, I am here alone washing puke and poop out of clothes day after day, scrounging up supper and not doing the dishes night after night.  (Except when Grandma and Uncle Matt were visiting -- it was so good to have you guys!)

It's a sad scene, folks.  And it's turning into a bit of a pity party, which needs to stop.  Because honestly, as bad as it's been at times, there has not been one moment when I wished it all away.  Because the caring for sick children times are actually some of the most precious times in life I think, times when we can express our love for our littles in the truest way.  Up all night with a miserable baby, the only person who can comfort her?  A blessing.  This is my chance; the window won't be open for long; I'll soak up the well days and the unwell.

This is a series of photographs I call cute misery, scenes from sickmas 2014.

Maisy is the most boogery baby ever.  This snot bubble's not too shabby but her biggest was the size of a golf ball, no joke.

Over the summer the boys mostly gave up on napping, but this plague has brought back the nap in the form of kids passing out randomly.  Wooden has taken quite a few couch slumbers...

Even Pup has fallen to exhaustion several times in the past couple of weeks.  Asleep in the moon room on top of a pile of toys...

 and passed out on the floor in front of a heat vent.

Maisy Lou has been in good spirits despite her discomfort (except that real low 48 hours we had), sleeping on a towel to catch the snot and milk puke.

Her congestion and teething combo has also turned her into a little night owl and she's snuck downstairs for quite a few late night tv sessions with mom and dad.  We all secretly loved this little routine, a flashback to the days when we had just one baby.  "Maisy, are you our only kid right now?" we'd chime, the boys asleep in their bed upstairs, and a huge grin would flash over her face.  Preciousness.

PS.  On the same day I cried here about being bulldozed by God, my dear high school friend Jamie was in a horrible car accident.  Say a prayer for her recovery.

xo, a.