It's Not Christmas Unless Someone is Throwing Up

I have countless pictures like this.

A Christmas tree, my favorite ceramic Santa, a room full of merry and cheer, and a kid and a bowl.

It's not Christmas around here unless someone is throwing up.
It has been going on for years.
At first it was annoying, but now it's just become expected.
It's almost comical.
Almost.


Last year I thought we'd escaped.
Everyone but me was sick in the week leading up to Christmas.
Aaron was so sick with strep throat that he was literally in bed for 4 days.
But he he started feeling better on the 23rd.
And after Christmas day had passed with no throw up, I thought the curse had been broken.
Until the next day when William said, "I don't feel good," and threw up all his breakfast cereal all over my in-law's couch.
I don't think there is any escape.

That's why I wasn't surprised last night when William came out of the bedroom at midnight.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
"Nothing.  I have to go to the bathroom."
And then, as he sat on the toilet with obvious, and intense, bowel issues he said, "and I accidentally threw up in James' bed."
Of course.


So today I won't be making presents or baking cookies for the neighbors with the kids.
I'll be washing laundry and the throw up bowl.
I'll be stroking my son's head and hoping for a shower.
I'll be praying the rest of the family escapes the curse, but I won't be surprised if they don't.
I'll be celebrating the Christmas season with our least favorite tradition.
But it's OK.  
I'm getting used to it.
Happy Christmas friends!


Love from,
Greta


PS. In honor of Christmas and my inability to post as of late, I'll be offering up some of my favorite recipes for Christmas morning, Christmas baking, and Christmas get togethers over at Picnics in the Park. None of it will be new content because I can't really manage that in between barf bowl cleanings, but you might get some good ideas from some old posts.  Go take a look.  Thanks!

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Does someone ask you every day, "soooo, are you all ready for Christmas?"

And when they do, do you have to fight the urge to slap them?

Or is that just me?

Maybe it's because I am not ready.

And I probably won't be--not even on Christmas morning.

My Christmas hopes and dreams list grows shorter, just as William's red and green paper chain grows shorter.

Not because I am checking things off that I've done.

No, I'm checking things off that I don't have enough time to do.

Or that I'm too tired to do.

Tired because I have a little boy who's second tooth is coming in, hasn't pooped in 3 days and has his first cold.

It's the perfect storm.

He's not really that fussy.  Like crying fussy.

He just wakes up a lot at night and wants to nurse.

A lot.

That's why I'm up at 1 AM writing things that will probably make no sense tomorrow.

Even though I got like 3 hours of sleep last night.

No lie.

Oh well.

I know this time will pass.

The bad.

And the good.

And that's why I got all teary eyed when we were decorating the tree.

After their crazy excitement wore off a bit, and I was able to trust them with breakable treasures, these 3 were able to decorate the whole tree by themselves.
Of course it was a mess, but I didn't really care.
I just sat on the floor handing them ornaments, loving how excited they were by each one and the memories their ornaments already hold for them, "oh!  It's my Donald Duck ornament!"  "Look this one has my name!  It's my Hello Kitty!"
I looked up at them and wiped away tears, knowing they'll be grownups in the blink of an eye.


After we decorated the tree, we turned off the lights like always.
And as we admired our tree, we sang every Christmas carol we knew.
It was spontaneous and so much fun.
A new memory made.
A new tradition started.


I keep that thought in mind as I feel myself get stressed that I still haven't done Christmas baking, or gotten all the gifts taken care of, or let another year go by without sending Christmas cards.
Those things are fun, and nice and great even.
But at the end of my days, will I care that I didn't get that batch of homemade cookies in? (but if you find the time, make these--they are amazing--see how messed up I am?)
I doubt it.
Instead I am just loving these moments of busy days and busy nights, of the simple pleasures of celebrating Christmas with my babies.


Right now, we are loving that it's time to use our Christmas cups.

For cocoa with marshmallows and whip cream.

We are loving our kids on stage at church. (James on right in white shirt and tie)

We are loving the Christmas story.

And I am loving the little hands that wait all year for this nativity set.

We are loving each other.
Leaving notes on the bathroom mirror (this one, from James, says, "I love Mom") and cleaning bedrooms and sweeping the kitchen without being asked.
Do they ever know the way to Mommy's heart?

And even though my notebook is full of ideas for new posts, I am taking a little break.
I itch to write, but there just aren't that many days until Christmas.
I want to live it up!
There are ballets to attend, Christmas light walks to take, trips to see Santa and maybe even some cookies to bake.

But mostly, there are only a few nights left for one of my favorite parts of Christmas.
Every night, before I go to bed, I turn off all the lights except for the tree.
It's quiet and bright and merry and melancholy all at the same time.
Christmas time, and all the good things it entails, means more to me each year.
I often think that things might have been different this year--and not in a good way-- I am so very grateful for the way they are.
Grateful that "Our First Christmas" ornament is still on the tree (even though it's terribly ugly) and that this year there will be another "Baby's First Christmas" ornament added to the other 3.
There is much joy in my heart.

"And the angel said unto them, fear not: for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.  For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord."

Luke 2: 10-11

It is because of Christ the Lord that I sit here tonight, nursing this baby by the light of a Christmas tree.

It is because of the Christmas story.

The story of redemption and hope, sent to earth as a little baby.

Impossible?

Yes.

Thankfully, God can do the impossible.

Merry Christmas, friends.

Love from,

Greta

Remembering This Moment: Date Night With Davy

Remembering This Moment: capturing a moment in our day that I want to hold onto.  It doesn't have to be anything special, just one of the myriad of small, beautiful moments that make up our life.  I know someday the memories of these moments will fade.  This is my way of hanging onto them.  

Read more here.

......................................................................................

Friday night was our date night.

It had been a while, what with Aaron traveling, Thanksgiving and all.

Date night is essential.

We can complete sentences without interruption.

We can even tell a whole story without once saying, "hang on, I'll take care of this one," and leaving the room.

Or we can hold hands while we walk and just be quiet together.

We can focus on each other.

I love date night.

Aaron suggested we go to LA for something new.
We went to Monsieur Marcel in the Farmer's Market.
I love the Farmer's Market.
I'd go every day if I lived nearby and had endless pennies for eating out.

Monsieur Marcel's reminds me of when we were in France.
Those chairs are in every cafe.
I love them.

But what I love best of all about date nights right now, is dating Davy.

We don't get a lot of one on on time with our kids.
There are 4 of them.
And because he's the baby and usually so chill, Davy can get  a bit lost in the shuffle.
That's why I love the nights when it's just the 3 of us.
I don't begrudge having a 3rd wheel on our date.
He's the sweetest little 3rd wheel around.

And yes, we keep him out late.
We're now the kind of parents I used to judge.
"I can't believe that baby isn't in bed.  What's wrong with his parents?  Don't they even know what time it is?  Don't they have him on a schedule?"
Yeah.
Those were back in the days when I had 1 kid and I was perfect.
Now I am so not perfect.
Now I know that if Davy stays out late with us it will not mess him up for life, or even for a couple of days.
He rolls with it.
So do we.
Because I know our date nights out with this baby are fleeting.

He's already reaching for our food.
See how he's looking at Aaron's beef bourguignon?
He wants it.
Bad.
He grabs at everything on the table.
He almost spilled my coffee.
Twice.
And before long he'll be wanting to run around and not sit on our laps, chewing his Sophie giraffe and grabbing for our forks.
We have to enjoy these moments while we can.

It's funny.
With our other kids, we couldn't wait to get a night out without them.
But it's so different with Davy.
People ask me all the time if it's he that is different, or me.
And as mellow as Davy is, all my babies were mellow at this stage.
I think it's really more about me.
I have finally learned to relax.
I have learned to just sit back and enjoy my baby.
If it's late and he's getting tired and fussy, I'll nurse him.
I don't worry that it's not "time" yet.
I don't worry that he's almost 6 months old and still sits with us in church.
He's only 6 months old!
Does he really have to go in the nursery?
Nope.
I don't care that some guy in the mall said, "wow, this is sure a late night for such a little guy."
Before, I would have worried about what that stranger thought of us.
Now, I don't care.
Now, I'm just enjoying a date with my baby.


And my calm transfers to him.
At the restaurant that night, 4 different people commented on how mellow Davy was.
Our waiter asked if we were giving him wine.
Another lady told us we were hipster parents (ha!  it's the glasses we were both wearing) and so "together" in our parenting.
(doesn't that sound like a very LAish thing to say to someone?  it made me smile)
Ironic, when we were doing just the thing I used to think was terrible parenting.
Each day that I parent my kids, I am learning the value in making the most of a moment instead of making a lot of rules to live by.
Yes, there is a time for schedules and routines and organization.
But there is also a time for bubble baths in the middle of the day, cuddling your 5 year old to sleep and keeping the baby out late.

After dinner, we walked around The Grove.

Davy loved the lights in the mall.

10 o clock at night and he was wide-eyed, taking it all in.

We loved watching his wonderment and sharing a little Christmas magic with our smallest boy.

He won't remember it, but I always will.

Davy's first Christmas.

Great.

Now I have totally made myself cry.

We really don't know when our last day will be.

Will you be here to enjoy next Christmas?

Will I?

Don't think I'm trying to depress you.

I'm not.

I'm encouraging you to live each day fully and enjoy the people you love instead of being too busy for them.

It's Christmas.

There's no easier time to tell people you love them.

Or show them.

Do a little of both.

Today while we were driving, a Christmas song by Mannheim Steamroller came on the radio.

Their music reminds me of the Main Street Electrical Parade at Disneyland.

It makes me laugh.

It also makes me think of my dad.

Because he loves Mannheim Steamroller.

And he always tries to make the rest of us like them too.

And we just laugh at him because we just can't get past the Main Street Electrical Parade vibe.

So I told the kids, "this is some of Dziadzi's favorite Christmas music."

(dziadzi is grandpa in Polish)

And then I called my dad and told him that I just heard his favorite Christmas music and it made me think of him.

And that I loved him.

It only took a minute.

I know I am not the only one who gives into the temptation to feel frazzled and stressed about getting it all done in the 18 days until Christmas. 

(crud.  really?  18 days?) 

But I am trying not to.

Remembering instead that it's all about relationships and not "getting it done."

Remembering it's about this:

"JOY TO THE WORLD, THE LORD IS COME!"

Love from,

Greta

Still Reeling

Wow.

What a weekend.

I try not to pack our weekends too full.

I don't do well with too much activity.

But there are seasons when it can't be helped.

Spring--when everyone in our family except me has a birthday.

And Christmas time.

The kids and I will spend tomorrow recovering from all the fun we had this weekend.

Because I know you totally care, here's the recap.

Friday night, Aaron, Davy and I went on a date.

I love date nights with these 2 men.

We went to LA for a change of scenery and had a fabulous time.

More on it later.

On Sat, Aaron went to a crazy guy's house who was selling used bikes on Craig's list.
Aaron said he had a pile of like 1000 bikes in his back yard.
Not exaggerating.
Then he went to a used bike shop where a slightly less crazy guy had a slightly less tall pile of bikes to choose from.
James needs a new bike.
We thought we'd be all responsible and frugal, and buy a well made, used bike instead of a junky new one from China.
But let me tell you, it takes way more work to buy used than to just go to Target and buy a new, junky new bike.
Besides, sadly, the new bikes are often cheaper than the old ones.
We're still looking for a good, used bike--from a crazy guy or a sane one.


We also bought our Christmas tree on Sat.
Then, we packed jackets, hats, blankets and food and headed to the annual Belmont Shore Christmas parade.
We go every year--haven't missed it once.
We always see lots of friends, the kids eat way too much candy thrown to them from the floats and we get home way too late and the kids are way too cranky the next day.
But it's fun and we love it.
We take a family photo every time.
2011--Davy's first parade.

On Sunday morning Lilly and William were singing with the cherub choir in church.
Of course, it was the one morning Lilly was sleeping in past 8:30 and we had to wake her up.
William informed us that there was no way he was singing on stage today.  
NO WAY AT ALL EVER!
Curse that Christmas fun!
I realized when I saw Lilly up on stage, lifting the hem of her too short, red dress, that I hadn't told her not to pull her dress up.
We got through the song without an underwear sighting, and William was all smiles and hand motions, so it all turned out good.

After church, Aaron and James drove 1.5 hours up to the high desert to look at a car.
Aaron's trusty, very beat up, old pickup bit the dust.
So Aaron's years long (not exaggerating) hunt for a new car was finally moving out of the fantasy realm and into reality.
He came home with this.

A 1963 Ford Falcon.
It's white with a turquoise interior.
Turquoise!
He couldn't be happier.

He was looking for a car big enough to fit our whole crew.
And this is way cooler than another minivan.
I'm so happy for him.
I can't wait to show you some pictures of his old truck.  
Then you'll know why my man deserves a new car.
Well, old car.
Whatever.
It's been a long time coming.
He's been selflessly driving a falling to pieces vehicle for as long as there was life in it.
He's happy and so am I.
I'll take more pictures tomorrow by day light.
Can't wait!
This week I'm going to try to finish all my gifts.
I may or may not be here much.
It depends on how much fun I'm having with that.
Or how much fun I'm not having.
We'll see.
Love from,
Greta

Home Schooling Right Now: Of Butterflies and Poetry

Does Butterflies and Poetry sound too much like Unicorns and Rainbows?

Sorry.

I don't want to make anyone gag.

But there are moments of Butterflies and Poetry in my home schooling life.

And those moments get me through the other moments.

There are the other moments, you know.

Because schooling at home is a mixed bag.

For me, the schooling part of it is truly wonderful.

I love teaching.

Always have.

And teaching my kids, exactly the way I feel is best for them--well, that's just downright perfection.

It's the fitting in of the schooling with the other parts of my life that I find challenging.

And sometimes exhausting, overwhelming, or impossible.

Yesterday, for example, the house was thrashed when Aaron came home from work.

I like to have the house clean and dinner ready when he gets home.

It feels like a good start to our night.

He doesn't expect that--it's all me.

But like I told him, sometimes I can't do it all.

Schooling, taking the kids out for a hike and art, cleaning the house, getting them bathed and a dinner on the table that didn't come out of a frozen pizza box is sometimes too much for me in one day.

It is hard to find a balance.
There is a lot I have to do.
And a lot I want to do.

I struggle with it every day.

Occasionally there is a day when schooling goes great and we get it all done. 
The house is sparkly. 
I have a healthy and delicious dinner on the stove, and the table is set.
I did my personal devotions and didn't get mad at the kids all day.
I'm showered and not wearing baggy, stretched out yoga pants when Aaron walks in the door at 6.

Those days, I feel AWESOME!

Like this.  (watch it--you'll appreciate the laugh--and I deserve a raise too, because I'm awesome)

But most days, there are just moments of awesome and a whole lot of more of not awesome.

Which is actually for the best, because it is in the not awesome moments that I realize how much I can't do this on my own.
When I think I can, I get prideful.

Pride is one of my stumbling blocks.
I need to remember the truth of this verse:
"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith--and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God--not by works, so that no one can boast." Ephesians 2:8-9
Pride makes me think I don't need God.
And I do.
Oh yes I do.
That is why the hard moments are good.
As much as I don't like them.
As much as I hate them.
The hard moments soften my heart and bring me back to the place where I realize my own weakness and then ask for help.
I need help.
Oh yes I do.

And those hard moments make the beautiful ones that much more precious.
Like the other day when this monarch butterfly landed on the milkweed plant in our yard.
We watched it for a long time.
Though we were standing right next to the plant, the butterfly didn't even notice us.
She fluttered around, seeming almost drunk on the nectar, flying right past our heads, hands and faces.
We watched her drink.
It was beautiful.
Amazing.

"Guys", I said, "this is one of the butterflies favorite plants, the milkweed.  That's why she loves it so much."
"Milkweed!" exclaimed James.  "Just like our poem!  In dusty pods the milkweed, its hidden silk has spun."
Yes, James, just like our poem.

It was just a little thing.
A poem remembered.
A connection made.
Science and literature colliding.
Watching his world get a little bit bigger.
But to me, it was a sweet reminder of all the little moments of beauty that fill my day.
Moments that have nothing to do with me and what I've gotten done or not gotten done..
These moments are a gift of God.


Hoping your weekend is full of many beautiful moments and that you remember Who they come from.
Especially now, as we celebrate the greatest gift of all!
Happy Christmas, friends.
Love from,
Greta