Day after Christmas

According to one news article, this was technically the first white Christmas since 1949.  I say technically, because the snow began late Christmas night.  The snow fell through the night and we woke up to 6 inches of beautiful snow.  Church was cancelled.

It's unusual to see Anika in a coat, let alone a hat.
Her hair is soaked here because she stood for some time in the tree shaking it to create a snow shower.

Matthew heading off to offer help to a neighbor.

This boy refuses to wear a coat.  Even in the snow.
Needless to say, he didn't stay out very long.

I'm pretty flexible about coats generally.
If kids are cold, they'll put a coat on.
As long as they're safe (i.e. 5 feet from the house), I let them choose.
If we're going somewhere, I make them at least take the coat with them.
I did offer Henry coat, snow boots, and gloves.

Little helper

Jackie in her new coat

Morgan hanging out in the front yard.

The girls created this pulpit, from which they conducted primary.
They also planned talks to give in a short devotional time.

Finally, some pictures of our beautiful snow.

Christmas Morning

We are some of the meanest parents I know . . . at least on Christmas morning. 

Before we go downstairs to open presents, the kids are required to shower and dress.  Their rooms, the bonus room, the hall, and the bathroom must be absolutely SPOTLESS.

This is a beautiful thing.  True motivation.

Around 8:00 A.M., we were ready to go down.

This was the first year Santa wrapped presents--this was popular and may become a tradition.

After opening the Santa presents, we took a break for our traditional Christmas breakfast--Oliebollen.  

Oliebollen are a Dutch fried bread recipe passed down for generations in our family.  I think my family might have called them scones when I was young.  We like them sweetened with  powdered sugar, honey, and jam.

 This is a picture of my great grandmother making Oliebollen.

I won't bore you with all of the gifts we exchanged, but here were some of the most memorable:

A K'Nex roller coaster for Anika

A scarf hand knitted for Morgan by a school friend.

Morgan hand knitted a scarf choker for Jackie's American Girl Doll.

Anika gave me cute earrings that her friend made.  They were a  re-gift, but she doesn't have pierced ears, and I was excited to have them.

BYU t-shirts for everyone.  It's about time we had some regalia from our favorite school.

The basketball shirts were a smoking hot deal at $5 each. . . 

Jackie was excited to receive Anika's used unicorn, 

complete with a hole in the back.

Oops--I guess I forgot to help Anika finish her Christmas shopping.

Dad received his favorite cereal.
You may not be able to see it, but along with the new beard, he's sporting braces. 

.

Jackie and Morgan had a great time the crafts they received from Aunt Rene and Uncle Jeff.

Aunt Rene asked for some ideas, and then she and Uncle Jeff spoiled us with everything I put on the list.  

Grandma and Grandpa gave the kids cash, which they were excited about.  Morgan said, "That's more money than I've ever had at once."   And our other Grandma and Grandpa are coming to visit this week--they always spoil us too.

It was a very fun Christmas morning for all of us!

Christmas Eve

Every year, we carol to the neighbors with a family from across the street.  First, we ate a spaghetti dinner, complete with homemade bread and jam.  Then we bundled up, sang "O Come All Ye Faithful" and "We Wish You a Merry Christmas", and delivered jam to six other families.  Normally we would sing one more song, but the air was close to freezing, and so were we.

For the first time ever, we opened one present on Christmas Eve.  New jammies.  For everyone, that is, except Anika, who made it adamantly clear to me that she did NOT want to wear anything but the mesh shorts and soccer shirt she currently wears.  

This is what happens when you tell the girls
to kiss the four-year-old brother for a picture.  

When we got home, we also started our traditional reading from Luke, complete with costumes and acting.   The children knew exactly which parts they wanted.

Baby Jesus

Mary

On the donkey, going to Bethlehem.

Anika is the donkey.  Jackie is . . . "someone leading the donkey."

Runaway Donkey

Mary and Baby Jesus

Angels We Have Heard on High

After the Christmas story, we rushed the kids off to bed.  They all wanted to sleep in Morgan's room, so Henry and Anika slept in sleeping bags.  They were all asleep by 10:00 p.m.

Merry Christmas!

When I returned from choir practice on Sunday morning, I found that the girls had been hard at work.  They had straightened the family room and created this nativity from American Girl dolls and some fabric found in a drawer in my room. 

Notice the children's scripture book on the music stand on the right.

And you can't see it, but a Bible is propped on the couch--opened to Luke.

The American Girl on the left (Kit) has short enough hair that she is Joseph.

I'm grateful that our children care about the true meaning of Christmas.

Job Done!

Though I still have a box of Christmas cards sitting on my counter to send, I did surprisingly finish jam this year.  We delivered this to teachers, friends, and some church members.  Tomorrow we'll deliver more when  we carol to neighbors.

Yes, we actually walk around and sing with another family in the neighborhood.  I'm sorry for those who would rather not stand on their doorstep and listen to us, or those who open the door and worry about the heat going out or the cold coming in.   We have fun regardless.  Our main song choices include "Oh Come All Ye Faithful," and "Angels We Have Heard on High."  The kids usually sing melody, while Matthew or I break into harmony.

Sugar and Snails

Parenting is polar.  It simply is.

Tonight, Morgan decided the way to get out of bedtime was to start cleaning.  What parent can dispute that?  She didn't actually ask, but when I came up, and found her madly reorganizing and rearranging the bonus room, I just couldn't bring myself to force her to bed.  "Mom, look how much better this looks," I heard, over and over again.

Not that our bonus room looked bad, but she really did transform it.  She placed toys neatly in nooks and crannies and moved the couch to hide a bulky rescue hero station.  She even swept behind the couch, around the exercise bike, and under a couple baskets of toys.

At the end, around 10:30 p.m., she called me in, stood back, and said, "Wow.  I never knew this room could look this good."

Morgan reads this blog . . . Thanks Morgan!

So you may still be asking why I say parenting is polar.

Because on the other end right now, we've got a word problem.  It reminds me of the times when we had to remove "duh" from our house.  Anika used to do push-ups any time any of the kids said the word "duh."  That was because she taught them it.

Fortunately, Anika is not the culprit teacher of our new word.  I don't know who's the culprit.  I haven't heard the older kids or myself saying this word.  But it's here.  Like a plague.

The word is . . . stupid.  And Henry is infected with it.  He has been for a couple months.

Stupid mom.  Stupid shoes.  Stupid cereal.  Stupid you name it.

Fortunately for me (or unfortunately, depending on the way you look at it), we've had words like this in the house before.  I haven't decided if the cure is repetition--"We don't say that." Or ignoring it.  Right now I'm fairly inconsistent with a mixture of both.  I'm sure I've used some time-outs too. It's not working so well.

I can't remember what worked in the past, except that something must have worked.  Either the child gets tired of the word, or the punishment works, or something.  I'm sure that a really good preschool teacher could tell me exactly what to do with this.


But. . . . never fear.  I don't.  I just hope it passes before kindergarten next August.

Mitt Romney's New Name

Morgan is sitting at our dining room table talking to us as Matthew and I are both working on our computers.   It's 10:30 p.m.   Why she is not in bed is a mystery to me--though it should not be as I am her mother.  But Morgan doesn't seem to need as much sleep as our other children.  She often stays up late talking to us.

Matthew says, in a blurry, sleepy voice, "All the cool kids go to bed now."

Morgan replies, "Cool kids like their parents."

She's writing on a yellow post-it note:  "Dad is awesome when he lets me stay up late at night."

The big secret is that it's not really Dad that lets her stay up.  He'd rather she were in bed.  I'm the softy in the family.

A few minutes later, Morgan says, randomly:  "Mom, I have a new name for Mitt Romney.   It's Mitt Ramen."

Morgan likes ramen noodles a lot.

Morgan:  "I really like Mitt Romney because I really like ramen.  I heart ramen.  I heart Mitt Ramen."

We're all going to bed now.

Sunbeams

Today I was teaching the Sunbeams, which is the 3-4 year old class that includes Henry, the story about Jesus' birth.  I dressed them up in little costumes.  At some point, I asked them if they knew what a shepherd was.

Henry raised his hand and answered with an arm motion that looked like a bear hug:  "I know!  Shepherds are the guys who grab the sheep when they run away."

Ages and Stages

I think it's fascinating how kids understand, or misunderstand things.  We had some very close friends who moved across the country.  Our kids especially loved them, and cried when they left.  

Despite many explanations about where these friends moved, Henry still looked around church today, a couple months later, and asked where they were.

Croc Baseball

I've been searching through this year's thousands of photos, trying to find some good ones for an end-the-year project.

I'm not sure I ever posted this.  If I did already, I apologize for doing it again.  But it was just too good to miss.   "Blogworthy," as I tell my kids.

I came out one day to find my kids out with their friends playing this fun new game:  Croc Baseball.

Yes, that is a navy blue Croc flying through the air.

The Pitch

Me, camera in hand:  "Hey guys.  Um . . . . that's totally blogworthy.  Let me take a picture, and then I want you to stop so you don't ruin your shoes."

Though they did stop that day, later that week the kids were out playing the same game, and Morgan seems to have forever lost one of her favorite Crocs.    I suppose a lesson was learned.  

More Tooth Fairy

First of all . . . my wonderful sister-in-law asked where my husband, who is in dental school, was during the tooth pulling.  All I can say is that sometimes mothers are tougher than fathers.   Or more callous.  Or less busy.  Whatever.  Who knows why he didn't do it.  Maybe just because I was there and don't mind doing it. 

So to continue the tooth fairy story.  Here we are, three days after I pulled Morgan's fine tooth.  And, of course, the tooth fairy hasn't come.

I was in the bathroom tonight, washing my face, and Morgan walked in.

"Mom," she says in a polite voice.  "The tooth fairy?"

"Oh yeah." I reply.  "Can you ask me about that when I have my wallet handy?"

"Mom," in a voice that conveys complete confidence in what she wants.  "I want my tooth fairy money under my pillow.  And I don't want to see it being put under the pillow."

As I'm sitting here writing this, Morgan is looking over my shoulder, and we are having a conversation about using the word please. 

Also, I'm lying here trying to avoid falling asleep while I finish this little blog.  And the tooth fairy didn't come this night.

In all fairness, I asked, "Morgan, where is your tooth???"

She giggled, "I don't know.  Not under my pillow.  I think I lost it "

Hmmm . . .

Losing Teeth . . . Taking Teeth

I remember a story of my father, who is a dentist, pulling some kid's loose tooth at a church party.  As I remember the story, the boy came up to Dad, opened his mouth wide, and proudly showed his wiggly tooth.   And then Dad peered closely at it, and snatched it right out of the boy's mouth before he could flinch away.

Now, in all fairness to my Dad, I don't know how true that story is, though I'm guessing it's pretty close.

That said, I now have a child who begs me to pull her loose teeth.

Tonight's tooth was the second tooth I've pulled.  I already don't remember the first--though Morgan insists that it didn't hurt.

So this is how it went tonight:

Morgan:  "Mom, my tooth really hurts.  It's really annoying--I can't brush my teeth or bite on it.  Could you pull it out for me?"

Me:  "Let me see it."

The tooth is hanging by a thread.  She can wiggle it at least 45 degrees in either direction.   Morgan is handing me a piece of folded toilet paper for the job.

Me:  "All right Morgan.  I'll do it.  Come here."

The next 10 minutes are like cat and mouse.  I move my hand toward her mouth, and she shies backward.  "But Mom," she insists, tears welling in her eyes, "I really do want it pulled.  It's so awful."

Me:  "Well then hold still."

I go for the tooth, but her mouth snaps shut before I even get any part of my hand inside her mouth.

Morgan, eyes closed and mouth open:  "Mom, you make too much noise with that piece of toilet paper.  I know you're going to do it."

Seriously?   The toilet paper is super-soft Charmin' double thick--how could it be too noisy?

Me:  "All right Morgan.  I'm not going to stand here all night trying to get your tooth out.  Come talk to me when you're really ready.  You're welcome to wait until tomorrow."

A few tears later, Morgan was resolved to get that pesky tooth out.  She bravely held still while I pulled that little tooth out--actually pulling isn't really the right word.  I don't know what the tooth was connected to, but it wasn't much.  Pulling the tooth from her mouth didn't feel much different than picking it up off the counter a few minutes later.  Amazingly, tears stopped immediately, despite a little bit of blood.

Me:  "Did it hurt?"

Morgan:  "No.  Thanks Mom."

Me:  "Now I have a real problem.  If it's your tooth, who's going to be the tooth fairy?

If you're new to my blog, this is referring to a recent post, in which Morgan (9) plays tooth fairy for her 6-year-old sister after the tooth fairy forgets to come for multiple nights.

Secret Service Exposed

Last week in church, our younger children were given a "Secret Service" Badge, with some little paper smiley circles that they were to leave when they did a secret service during the week.

One day this last week, Matthew found four quarters and a smiley face on his pillow.  I reminded him to make sure he made a big deal of it, so the kids knew how much we appreciated their thoughtfulness.

The kids were in the bonus room watching a video.   Matthew walked in, hands in the air, and with an excited voice, said, "Someone left some coins and a smiley face on my pillow."

Four heads turned, all with smiles.

Henry piped up.  "It was the tooth fairy."  Cute. We assumed that he put the money on there and then covered up his secret good deed with a clever white lie.

Turns out, Henry was guessing.

Today in church again, the teacher asked who had done any secret services during the week.   Jackie waved her hand high in the air.

"Well.  You see.  My family is kind of low on money, so I left money and a smiley face on my Dad's pillow."

I'll Buy You That

With Daddy full time in school, the kids have learned that they can't have everything they want.

And neither can Mom or Dad.

Today my husband drove the neighbor's  truck home from church and parked it in our driveway.  When we pulled into the driveway, I wistfully looked at the truck and commented to the kids, "That truck looks like it belongs in front of our house.  Wouldn't it be nice if we could buy a truck like that for Daddy?"

Immediately Morgan (9) piped up optimistically, "We can start saving to buy him one!"

"Hmmm . . . . " I answered.

Henry had an even better idea:  "Mom, we can make him a truck like that!"

The Bucket

The other day I came home from preschool with Henry and a friend.  As soon as I stopped, before I even put the car into park, those boys bounded from the car and disappeared into the back yard. 

The sky was periwinkle blue, and the temperature hovered in the high 60s.  I was sure the boys were headed to the yard to swing or bounce on the trampoline, so I headed into the kitchen to clean up some breakfast dishes. 

A few minutes later, the boys came in.  My attention turned from the pot I was scrubbing to them--I turned off the water and watched them take off their shoes.  I was surprised they were back so quickly. 

But then, with my back up against the sink as I contentedly watched these happy boys, I heard the following conversation, just a few feet in front of me:

Henry, with a smashingly coy glance my way:  "Nathan, we shouldn't tell Mom, should we?"

Nathan, with an incredulous look backward: "No Henry!  Don't tell your mom."

It was so funny, this conversation happening right in front of me, that there was no way I could be mad.  

I chuckled and said with a smile:  "Oh yes, Henry, you should always tell your mom everything."

Henry cocked his head sideways, fluttered his charming blue eyes, and shrugged his shoulder (see picture below), smiling and giggling a bit, "Yes Nathan, we should tell Mom."

Nathan, putting his hands up in frustration:  "No, Henry."

I smiled genuinely and purred at Henry, coaxing:  "What would you like to tell me, Henry?"

Henry must trust me a lot to have told me this, though he seemed quite unconcerned:  "We peed in a bucket."

Me, a little worried now.  For the record, I don't even like the word pee:  "You peed in a bucket?   Where?  In the garage?"

I could just picture a bucket of urine in the garage, waiting to be knocked over to make a yucky mess.

Henry laughed.  "No." 

He doesn't say this, but I imagine him thinking, "No, of course not, Mom.  We're smarter than that.  We wouldn't pee in the garage."

Henry: "On the other side of the house."  Smile.

Me, relieved that it's not in the garage, but curious now:  "Is the pee still in the bucket?"

Henry:  "Oh no, Mom, we dumped it out."  Of course.  Of course.

Here's the bucket.  Those responsible little boys dumped it out.  I wonder if the neighbor caught a glimpse of those tiny bare bottoms.  

Lovin' that Teacher

Morgan really loves her fourth grade teacher, Ms. Roberts.  Really loves her.

At some point, I plan to expound upon her reasons for adoring her teacher--there are many, but I just wanted to post a note Morgan wrote today.

I asked Morgan today what she wanted to do tomorrow when she has the day off for Veteran's Day.  Here is the list she gave me.

Animals Out the Window

I was in my kitchen the other day, peacefully working on cleaning up, when a floppy thumping sound at the window made me jump.  I looked once, but did a double take.  Here's what I saw swinging back and forth against the window:

Morgan informs me it's Popcorn, Sweetie, and Captain Crushy (Webkinz hamsters.)  They were on a hamster ride out the second floor window.

I'm sitting here falling asleep--my eyes close and I write something completely off the wall.  Then I ak . . .  oh my . . . can't . . . stay . . . awake. . . .

Boys and Guns

I'm well aware that this is not novel . . . to anyone who has any experience with boys.  But I'm recording it anyway.

I asked Henry this morning what he liked best about preschool.

Without hesitation, he answered, "I like playing with guns best."

Now, knowing that Miss Jan doesn't have guns at her preschool, I asked, "What guns did you play with?"

 "Lego guns." Big surprise.

What kinds of things have YOUR boys turned into guns?

Tooth Fairy Disfunction

Our family is completely disfunctional . . . but I would hope that somewhere out there, someone has the exact same problem we do . . .

The tooth fairy never comes the same night someone loses a tooth.  It always takes at least several nights, sometimes a week, sometimes more than a week.  Once there was a tooth that wasn't visited for an entire month.

But you know, as I tell the kids, the tooth fairy has a lot of people to visit around the whole world.

Jackie lost her tooth Sunday.

Excited, she put it in a bag and put it under her pillow.

Monday morning rolled around, and of course, no tooth fairy.  Jackie came to me, "Mom, the tooth fairy didn't come."

Me, in my best matter-of-fact voice:  "Well, you know, Jackie . . . um . . . the tooth fairy has a lot of people to visit!  All around the world."

Jackie:  "Oh, I know, Mom."

I guess I have her trained well.  I think she was disappointed, but my kids all know it takes a while.

Tuesday morning rolled in.

Jackie:  "Mom, the tooth fairy didn't come."

Me:  "I'm sure she's coming.  She has a lot of people to visit!"

"I know Mom. But Mom, there's more than one tooth fairy.  They're all over the world."

My answer:  "Oh. . . well . . . yes, maybe so.  But even if there's one tooth fairy for the entire United States, that's still lots of kids to visit."

Jackie:  Giggle, giggle.

Whew.

Tonight Morgan, my 9-year-old, came to me after Jackie went to sleep.  "Mom, don't forget the tooth fairy."

"Ah shoot," I said, turning to Matthew.  "Do you have a dollar?"

"Uh-oh," he answered.  "No."

Morgan piped up, "Mom, I have a dollar.  I"ll pay the tooth fairy if you'll pay me back.  Can I put it under the pillow please?"

Is it normalcy or total family disfunction when the 9-year-old has to do tooth fairy duty because of forgetful parents.  Who knows.  You may have the same problem when you have four kids some day.