Traditions

Being a pastor's family, it became obvious immediately, as in our first Christmas as a married couple, that we would have to create some of our own traditions. A good friend pointed it out during one of my lament's in the fall of 2002 that I would likely never have another Christmas Eve at home, at the farm, again; she said simply, "You'll have to make your own traditions." She was right. The nature of the job is such that the holidays are busy times, difficult to take vacation during, and tough to plan travel in the climate our neck of the woods usually brings. Thus, we made our own traditions in Enderlin - the Kriskringlmarkt (which this Scandinavian still cannot pronounce or spell correctly), the holiday light train that rolled into town each year, eating a fancy-but-rushed meal in between evening services, toasting with grape juice for Christmas Eve dinner (the late service made even a glass of wine sort of, well, inappropriate for the pastor in charge!); we enjoyed the traditions we created.

Now we're creating some with our little Creations.

Sunny is waiting patiently for the kids' radio show to begin. How cool to be in the audience of a show taped for radio?! I told Miss Mouse this was perhaps as close as she'd ever get to the Lawrence Welk show. Next year, we might start a new tradition and allow the five-year-old in the house to accompany one (or both) adults to the evening radio show taping where she could see a bit more of an advanced musical performance. For sure if we can make it work, next year's five-year-old will accompany the adults to the symphony's Christmas show; just the two grown-ups went this year which was fun and relaxing and romantic, but that would be a great concert for a symphonic introduction for a five-year-old. There were many, many kiddos enjoying the music there this past week; we look forward to more symphony concerts and to including our Mice as they grow!

It was awesome to have seats in the first row of the balcony. Not only did we not have to strain to see around any tall people, but we also had a built-in "tv tray" and "footrest" (see pictures below).

Hanging onto her seat!

Like I said, a built-in tv tray. This was the day we had missed lunch, so we were snacking on raisins in lieu of lunch (we did have leftover pizza later in the day).

Did I mention a built-in footrest?! No one taller than I could have sat where we did. Even my knees nearly touched the wall in front of us. What was reassuring (Grammy) was that there was a plexiglass barrier covering the space that would have been in between the bars of the balcony. No vertigo issues in this balcony!

Miss Mouse was so pleased to see a mandolin.

Santa arrived by rising out of the pit while playing the organ. Pretty dramatic when you're small. Still cool when you're not.

She's "Red-Off".

I was going to wear the antlers when we delivered our treats today, but Miss Mouse told me "Mommy, you should not wear them in public! That would be....that would be.....silly!" I asked if it would be embarrassing to be with Mommy wearing reindeer antlers; then she felt bad and a few minutes later told me she'd really like me to wear them. Of course she would because she wouldn't want to hurt my feelings! This sensitive Miss Mouse we have.

On a note about Sunny, she's our hilarious one (note: Red-Off above), but she's also quite sensitive. I made her some big, pink flowers to decorate the purple mittens I made her; well, I haven't gotten the flowers sewn on yet (yes, I'm a bit behind....we'll blame it on Christmas-gift-creation), and she knows this. Well, the other day I made a friend some fingerless gloves and decorated them with the same style big, pink flowers. When I showed Sunny, she got a very serious look on her face. Suddenly I realized she thought I had sewn her flowers on my friend's gloves. I asked if that's what she thought and as she was nodding, I explained that they were not hers. Hers were still waiting to be sewn. The poor little thing burst into tears, sobbing "I thought you took mine away!". We're pretty sensitive around here. Even Miss Red-Off.

Miss Mouse has waited for this chance since last year! Sunny was not so sure about the whole idea; she clung to my hand the entire time we stood in line, but she was adamant that she wanted to sit one Santa and that she likes Santa.

After we saw Santa, the girls talked me into buying us a horse-drawn wagon ride. We'd never done one at the children's farm in the winter before, and it was cold. C.O.L.D. even in our mild winter. It was nearly dark by the time we hopped on, and the wind had picked up. It could have been colder, but still, it was cold!

Interestingly, I had given the ticket person four dollars instead of three; when she returned my extra dollar, I stuffed it in my pocket in my hurry to get our coats zipped, mittens on, hoods secured, etc. As we were waiting in line for the wagon, a grandma behind me asked the "crowd" (of 4?) if anyone had a dollar. She had one, but she hadn't brought her wallet and had no other cash or checks available. Welll, I had that one I had stuffed in my pocket just burning a hole there, so I gave it to her. On our ride I asked her to take our picture. She figured that was fair for a dollar! I'm glad she was teasing because I was just glad to have extra cash to help her out considering so few people carry any anymore. The picture was a bit shaky, but so was our wagon ride!

Miss Mouse explaining to Santa that she wants Pop the Pig unless he doesn't think it is made very well, in which case she'll take another game or a deck of cards (I haven't told her that we have ten in the closet in the basement!). She won't be getting Pop the Pig, mainly because Santa couldn't find it online for less than $35....but Santa found a couple other games; hence, Mommy's insistence that she ask for Pop the Pig with a caveat. I happen to know a little boy who bought his mommy Pop the Pig for her birthday, so I have no doubt Miss Mouse can play her fill at his house if she's really, truly enamored with the game!

These are out of order, too; obviously this one is from before I changed my white balance. Argh. The girls aren't the only ones who get all giddy to see Santa! In this picture, Sunny is telling Santa that she wants "whip gwass, eawings, and a peddo pet" (aka, lip gloss, earrings, and a pillow pet).

We love our Santa and were so glad to see him again this year.

This is a new tradition we tried thanks to Great Auntie Linda! What a fun morning putting this house together! What a mess! Notice the sliding front window peppermint? I'm trying to take pictures straight on these days and lean more on editing for the effects, but I find I can hardly help myself sometimes....I wanted to be sure to get in the Chinese lanterns and Halloween kitty in the background. There was a time in life when my seasonal decor was very, well, seasonal. Now I'm just eating up this stage where we can't pack down the kitty because he wants to ride around in Miss Mouse's front pack all morning, and the Chinese lanterns will stay up because they're beautiful and incredibly fun; and we'll just add the gingerbread house right next to the elegant Advent candle wreath! I love it!

A more straight-on shot of our masterpiece.

My thought is that I used too much frosting? As Miss Mouse and I were each attempting to hold peppermints on windows, we had a wall cave-in. We decided the walls were more integral than the peppermints, so we let the peppermint go and saved the walls instead.

Honestly, who would not want lightning rods made of gumdrops and a front walk composed of chocolate chip cookies, gum drops, sprinkles, and hard candy stars? Bliss.

This was a messy project. Getting clean was just about as fun....and messy.

Again, I love it! Sparkly bubbles shining in the sunlight cleaning sticky hands..... in my book, this is as close to paradise as we get down here.

We don't have much baking done....any really....but we did bake these from-a-box red velvet cupcakes (there's no point in my attempting a scratch red velvet cake without my Auntie Linda's recipe since she makes the world's best), cut them each in half, dropped in a half at a time, covered it with homemade buttercream frosting, and then dropped on another cupcake until the jars were squeezed full. We spent this afternoon delivering most of them with the girls wearing Santa hats (Miss Mouse's even had blinking lights; Sunny asked me if I could sew lights on hers....). Too bad only one of our delivery targets was home. We may bake some cookies this weekend, but with the beautiful weather, it's been more enticing to head out in the yard to play with the pup than to heat up the house baking sweets. I'm guessing, though, that the playing-in-the-yard tradition may not last considering this must be one of the nicest, warmest early winters ever! No doubt next year we'll be back to baking mass quantities of cookies, but this year these little jars were quite fun.

I think we have some good traditions started. We'll see what ones hold through for next year!

I ended up putting these pictures on here backwards for some reason....It couldn't possibly be the extremely strong, though very small, glass of wine that's keeping me company here. They'll still tell the story of a good day, though.

Honestly, it was one thing to take pictures here dumping leaves on each other in mid-November, but here it is post-mid-December with us still able to be out at the park playing! This is incredible! Every now and then I find myself thinking that after three record-setting winters with remarkable spring flooding issues that we deserve a winter starting off like this.

And then I correct myself and remember that these good things are not deserved. They are blessings.

53. Fresh, warm air to breathe after a two-week in-house isolation with coughing spasms.

54. Incredibly, record-setting warm air in which to play.

This is how the morning started. Well, no, the morning started with Mommy putting in two braids for Miss Mouse (and ringlets - she was adamant that we needed to wet her hair all down so that it turned into the ringlets of which she is so proud!) and three braids for Sunny. Yes, three. That was a battle I chose not to fight, so she did indeed have three braids for her first Christmas program.

For interest, these pictures show only about half of the children in our Sunday School hour. We are the second, and smallest, hour of Sunday School at our campus on Sundays. Wednesdays are larger. The other service on Sunday is larger. This is why our "program" consisted of this mass of children marching in and singing two songs. If anyone is interested in organizing several thousand kiddos into angels, shepherds, and wisemen, I can put you in contact with the appropriate people!

We spent Saturday evening at the church. In our pajamas.

We, as in Miss Mouse, needed to practice knowing where to stand, how her voice would sound in church, where she would walk in, where Mommy would be, where Mary (the overall leader) would be, just working out all the details. Miss Mouse was also incredibly worked-up because she feared that at the end they would be encouraged to "jump around" (apparently there was an encouragement to jump around after they carrolled at Daddy's Christmas party....Sunny and I were home enjoying each other's coughs at the time....), so once we realized that, Miss Mouse's nerves were pretty much able to be soothed.

Still, Sunny was pretty forceful about wanting to stand right by her sister. Whether that was because Sunny knew Miss Mouse needed her or because Sunny needed Miss Mouse, I'm not sure. Perhaps they just needed each other.

Plus, they matched. Why not stand together when you match?!


My sweet group of girls waiting to go into the church. We were missing one little boy, the brother of the girl in blue. He joined us from his parents' lap in church and promptly returned to their laps after we sang.

What a fun day today turned out to be! Miss Mouse asked me several times throughout the day if she could please, please sing every year?! Last night we weren't sure we were going to get ONE year out of her, but now that she's seen that singing in front comes without any directions or suprises about jumping around, she's ready to go! None of the pictures show the girls doing any actions because I switched to the video camera for that, by the way....Yep, I was definitely that mother!

Really, though, glass of wine notwithstanding, today was a good but exhausting day. For years here I've considered the two-song-Christmas-program to be far less than a "real" program. It's been something I've really mourned about being at such a large church. If someone had told me I would be sitting in the front row, video camera in hand with the other camera slung over my shoulder, grinning like a nut, crazy-proud of my two little Mice for singing two songs....I would never have believed it. Never.

I would never have believed that I would have spent Saturday evening near tears missing my parents. I miss them often, but thankfully we get together usually once a month or at least once every six weeks. But the buildup to today was tough. Way tougher than I would have imagined. See, it never occurred to me that it would be hard not to have my parents here for a program that wasn't even a Christmas program.....Until it became a Christmas program....Until Miss Mouse got nervous....Until it started to really matter to me. Once those things happened, it became very clear that my parents would miss their oldest living granddaughter's first Christmas program ever.

And my grandparents never missed one of my programs. Ever. From 1984-1998, they never missed a program.

So the four hundred miles separating my parents from this little two-song program today seemed extra empty and extra long this weekend.

Then, of course, once it became real to me that this was a program, that this was the first time I would have little girls in fancy dresses with butterflies in their tummies standing up in front of the church, then it hit me that it shouldn't be.

This should have happened two years ago with another little girl, who, I think, would have been tall with curly ringlets, too. There should have been three matching dresses up there today. But,

54. I'm thankful for the two adorable blonds in matching dresses, seriously singing their Christmas songs, holding hands.

Even while I feel the absence of the third,

55. I'm thankful for being able to do two sets of braids, pull on two sets of tights, buckle (inspect the buckling of -) two sets of black dress shoes.

And I'm thankful for my mother- and father-in-law who were here, grandparents celebrating the two-song program, enjoying the beautiful (spring?) weather, playing on park equipment.

56. Living close enough and being close enough to a set of grandparents that they can take in "first moments" like this.

Indeed, even while there are absences, permanent and temporary, that are felt so strongly at certain points, there is still so much for which to be thankful.

57. A friend in charge of our Sunday School who understands when Miss Mouse needs to escape a video-showing to go sit with Daddy in church

58. Playing fetch with the dog in the yard...even if it means stepping in doggy poo.....

59. Grandparents on park equipment. On park equipment.

60. The physical health and strength as well as the emotional ambition to take two girls ice skating by myself. I know enough people with enough difficulties to not take this for granted. What a privilege!

61. Neighbors and friends who can be called on during week-and-a-half illnesses to bring kleenex, honey, thermometers....

It's Going to Snow

Finally, I have the answer to our crazy, strange, odd, mixed-up weekend! Thank goodness a friend of mine enlightened me this morning after Sunday School! Otherwise, I would have returned home still shaking my head at how my group of six shy, quiet, reserved kiddos turned into a screaming mass of child hiding under our classroom table tossing off shoes, screaming that they needed to get away from the "crocodiles". Had Mary not filled me in, I would have come home still thinking that was strange.


But now I know.


It is going to snow.


And that, that itself, is to what I'm chalking up this entire weekend.


The weekend started off on Thursday night. I'm going to lump it all together. One big, loooooong weekend. So, Thursday night we hosted Bible study at our house. Since I'm figuring we'll be alone for Christmas this year, something in me went crazy. I decided that not only were we having venison stroganoff (a crockpot creation) over rice; we would also enjoy a "Holiday Wassail" (created in a crockpot), roasted cauliflower and carrots with olive oil/garlic/lemon/parmesan sauce, and a peanut butter chocolate cake with chocolate sauce dessert (also in a crockpot). Our amazing neighbor began her involvement in our weekend by lending us her crockpot for this festival. We really rocked the crockpots that meal. Astonishingly everything turned out beautifully and all at the same time.


Unfortunately, the meal preparation was not smooth. It was nothing short of brilliant to make a grocery store run mid-afternoon to buy the fixins for that evening's dessert. Brilliant. Truly. The Mice are champion "helpers" in the kitchen, so there were definite hurt feelings when I suggested they do some putting-away-of-toys as I threw the cake ingredients into the crockpot. I did settle down and let them help with the chocolate sauce topping; I'm not entirely brainless or hard-hearted, after all.

After we got the cake safely ensconced in its crockpot, we tackled the "wassail". The fun really began then. It called for frozen concentrates of apple, cranberry, and raspberry juice along with orange and lemon juice. The Mice giggled and squealed as the frozen concentrates, which were truly still frozen, plopped into the pot. The made a fun "squwerplf" sort of sound as well as creating tiny splashes. Safe, tiny splashes. Safe and tiny, that is, until we added the "grape/apple" concentrate.....which made a too large "squwerpfl" followed by a much-too-large splash. All over my skirt and dress shirt, all over Sunny's fancy dress-up dress, which she was borrowing from Miss Mouse, all over the floor went the bright purple, sticky-sweet juice concentrate. All. Over.

Sunny was stripped, bathed, and redressed. Rather than a skirt and dress shirt, I was wearing a t-shirt and capris when our guests arrived. The floor had been washed by that time, which meant the dishes were still piled near to the ceiling in the sink, and the clean laundry heap in the living room had not moved itself. Shockingly, it had not moved itself.

Thankfully, one of our guests swept it up into the basket and hid the basket in Miss Mouse's room. One of our other guests kindly reached the fancy plates on the top cupboard shelf and helped set the table. All this while poor little Sunny sobbed for me to "stand wight by me, Mommy!" as she was attempting to snack on a frozen banana in her highchair. It was not such a good night for Sunny. A certain incident with the elliptical machine, a too-playful Miss Mouse, and Sunny's toe turned out better than it could have later in the evening. It was a tough night for the Sunny Mouse.

And Daddy was gone for three days. That should be mentioned.

Even with all the excitement and tears, we really did have excellent dinner, conversation, and Bible study. It really was pleasant! The two dishwasher loads full of dishes and the hour-and-a-half sink-washing we worked on the next day weren't even so bad; Miss Mouse even finished them up for me later in the day! We had a treat on Friday night with pizza delivery to celebrate a November birthday (not mine, by the way) with a friend...and then things headed a bit south yet again. Thankfully, it was "Neighbor to the Rescue" day again, so she was over attempting to help me figure out what was wrong with Sunny. Sunny did not appreciate our questions of "what hurts? where does it hurt? are you sad? are you scared?"; by the end, she was just sobbing, shouting, "Nooooooo! Nutting!". She and I crawled into bed early that night.

Thankfully, the next morning she crawled out of bed a new girl, remembering nothing of the every-two-hours-waking throughout the night for water or a nose-blowing or a cuddle. Tired, yes, I was, but also so happy to have cuddled my baby (who rightly so will not allow that monicker to be used on her anymore) all night. We all had a wonderful morning; the Mice spent it with their babysitter, who also happens to be a relation, and I spent it enjoying a Christmas brunch at church. I have to say our table was pretty cool; our table host is our church's other Compassion International Advocate, so she decorated our table with aluminum pie plates and red dishcloths for placemats/napkins. We had a spoon but no other silverware, and we drank from canning jars. It. Was. Incredible. The other tables were beautiful, too, though, and the "feature presentation" was amazing. What a privilege to have a front row seat to watch as a pastor (not one of ours - a guest) painted a massive mural in one hour, from scratch. That was also incredible. I'm not sure I blinked the entire hour. Awesome.

Saturday, noon, rushing home. I made it home in time to get the girls' matching Christmas dresses on and curl their bangs (we were being *Fancy*, note the capital "F") before we needed to leave for the next Christmas item on our agenda for the year. We three girls headed downtown to a taping of a kids' Christmas show made for radio. It was neat. The atmosphere was stunning; I've been in the theater but not for a looooong time. It was magical; the Mice sat in awe of the regular theater-lights as well as the stage filled with Christmas decorations. I noticed the little boys down the row from us were playing games on their grandpa's cell phone, focused solely on the electronic noises it was making; I reminded myself to be thankful that their grandpa had brought them and not just sad that they were focused so hard on the technological toy instead of on the beautiful, historical surroundings.

Did I mention we had missed lunch that day? Yep, the Mice were nibbling peants (Miss Mouse) and raisins (the choice of Sunny) as we waited for the show to start. We were front-row-balcony; picked those seats ourselves, we did. I chuckled as I thought of how much my Mom would hate those seats (right, Grammy?!). We loved it, though. The show was short - 45 minutes or so, but the girls enjoyed it and were beyond ready to head home to eat leftover pizza by the time the 45 minutes was up. We, of course, had to wait for a train which had blocked us off from our car, but my little troopers wandered around a variety store with me for 5-10 minutes happily (or perhaps in a lack-of-food-induced-haze).

Upon arriving home, we devoured our lunch, and, yet again, called on our neighbor for assistance. I should mention my cell phone charger has gone missing, leading me to consider cancelling the babysitter and Christmas brunch on Saturday morning because I couldn't have handled thinking a possibly-sick-Sunny was crying for me at home with no way to get in touch with me. When our neighbor found out about that, she brought over her own cell for me to use on Saturday morning. Problem solved; Sunny was well, and I was happily pacified by the idea of having a cell phone attached to my person. Anyway, the overworked (my words, not hers, she's far too gracious to say that!) neighbor came over again so that I could run to the store and mail our adopted-soldier's package without dragging the Mice out another time. After standing in line for 10 minutes behind a man wanting a peculiar type of cigarette, I was told only letters can be mailed from our grocery store internationally. Bugger. Another project for Monday.

Reflecting last night, I was completely content with our hectic, crazy day. Miss Mouse was unbelievably pleased that we had not only attended a radio show, which I told her was probably the closest we could get to being at the Lawrence Welk show (an unfortunately impossible goal of hers), but we also picked ourselves up a free children's desk on the way home! By the side of the road, yes. My aunt says I come by it naturally because my uncle (her brother) does the same thing, except I think the latest thing she said he picked up was some type of plumbing equipment rather than a desk. Anyway, this is an older-style desk with the little chair attached to it; super cute; super free; super great to have at my parents' place considering I was downstairs this afternoon forcing items out of our overcrowded basement closet. So, yes, it was an exciting and productive day in the memory-making department. It was also - thankfully! - the day Daddy came home.

When I woke today, I thought for sure it would be a calm day, the chaos of the past few days behind us, a new week before us. And then we got to church 5 minutes late. Sunny dropped her shoe on the way in; I carried her, her shoe, and a box of Compassion International brochures; the kind greeter offered to go find her shoe when I laughed that she had lost it in the parking lot. I can't help but think she must have been relieved when I pulled it out from under the bundle that was Sunny's jacket/the CI box, but it was a very sweet offer. Church really went well; the Mice seemed happy to play quietly, ignoring eachother.

And then we got to Sunday School, and the crocodiles came out. Apparently. So I'm told. By all six of my charges.

But Mary said it was going to snow. That's the reason for all of this, from the grape juice on the floor to the crocodiles in my Sunday School room. It was going to snow today. There were a few flakes. There really were.

38. Thanksgiving weekend at my in-laws where I could curl my caterpillar-like self into a cocoon to grieve for a more-like-family-member-friend whose funeral we realized we missed after it already over; the usually perceptive Mice had far too much fun playing with their grandparents to notice their mom; this was good.
39. Beautiful weather for our Christmas light parade.
40. Seeing "our" Santa back waving at the end of the parade.
41. Miss Mouse commenting that "Santa and I smiled at each other. I will never forget that."
42. Sunny recovering from a nasty cold before she even really got it.
43. My husband who responded to my question of would he like to go driving to look at Christmas lights with, "Sure! I'd love to do that!" even though it meant he would have needed to jump from his car to our vehicle for the light-drive after he had just driven 400 miles.
44. Ezekiel's crazy-weird calling from God.
45. Attending a Christmas brunch at church and really knowing many of the other women there this year.
46. My front-row seat at the brunch to watch a massive mural painted in 60 minutes.
47. Being able to return to our previous home for an incredible Christmas music show Sunday night.
48. Spontaneous fireworks to watch through the front window on the way to the show Sunday night. Amazing, beautiful fireworks.
49. Driving by the firework-lighting-site right when a huge red one burst in the air above us; Miss Mouse had never before had occasion to see one of the "big ones" from that close.
50. A fairly uncluttered calendar staring back at me. It's beautifully clearish for our family.
51. For the three pillars of the church who have passed away this fall - thankful that we knew them, that we were privileged enough to be part of their lives and they part of ours. Our former church looks so different now with most of that older generation gone; what a blessing it was to have known, loved, and been loved by those who are now gone.
52. For Christmas...Because the promise of Christmas makes #51 not nearly as permanent as it seems like it is right now.

Thanks Giving

One of our local news channels did a story on the rising cost of Thanksgiving dinner. Apparently the Farm Bureau (don't disown me, Dad, for using their information!) has said that nationally the cost of the ingredients for a typical Thanksgiving dinner has gone up. If the extra cents and bucks went to those who labored to grow and raise said ingredients, then few people should/would have much problem with it. I think they quoted the increase to be around $5.17 total increase for an entire meal. This is where my thankfulness for the week begins.

17. That even in a recovering economy we are able to go directly to the grocery store and buy most everything we would like to cook a large family meal. No rationing, no bread lines involved. Why not be thankful for that which we take for granted?

The news story continued by interviewing two shoppers stocking up for their Thanksgiving feasts. The reporter mentioned the rising cost of food; both shoppers laughed, perhaps nervously since they were on camera, and responded flippantly. Maybe they just got nervous and silly for the tv cameras; maybe the station picked the most flippant responses, but the response of the first especially saddened me:

*"Everything is a little higher, but, honestly, I don't pay much attention. It's Thanksgiving, so we'd have it no matter how much it cost! I'm not scrimping on Thanksgiving! Are you kidding??"

I wanted to shout at her. Really? Seriously? You don't pay attention??! Now, I sure don't mind giving another $5.17 to a farmer who grew the bread for our stuffing or rancher who raised the turkey we'll carve. But my heart broke for the mothers who know they have to head to the food pantry to pick up Thanksgiving dinner ingredients....or those who hope their children don't notice they're using food stamps (whatever form they come in now) to pay for the groceries. My mind travelled to the fathers who are out working twelve-hour-days on the rigs out West, sleeping in man-camps or RVs or hotel rooms or cars, sending their paychecks back home to their families who will eat Thanksgiving dinner without them. Being able to celebrate this upcoming holiday with a massively-large meal, rolling ourselves away from the table in disgust at the amount of food we consumed, happily lazing on the couch enjoying the turkey-induced haze....This isn't a right of ours. It isn't something simply guaranteed us. It's a blessing for which we ought be thankful, and it would seem that thankfulness should automatically lead us to be mindful of those who have less or have to sacrifice more than typical to have it. So...

18. For knowing that we will partake of a traditional Thanksgiving feast; That I can, without hesitation, go to the store and buy ingredients for the dishes I'll be bringing.

19. For needing to be fiscally-conscious enough that budgets can still give me a headache....which also seems to keep me pretty grounded in thankfulness.

20. For celebrating this holiday season with my husband as I'm clearly aware there are military husbands/wives spending the holiday in hot, sandy, foreign lands and oil-boom-workers spending the holiday in a world that is cold, dark, and strange to them, too.

We've had a blissfully dry, open autumn. This brings me to more numbers:

21. Tap-dancing Mice in the golden, fading light of a late-autumn afternoon.

22. Being able to warm the hands of Miss Mouse myself

23. Warm afternoons where warm mittens end up discarded as the tap dancing warms little bodies.

25. Playing with my girls....in the park...in NOVEMBER....even if it meant getting covered in leaves!

26. Swinging on the "low swing" with two breathless little tap-dancers.

27. That my little Mice can be enticed to explore more of the park than the playground equipment....strange findings though we stumbled upon....

28. For those who envisioned this park as a place for families to run and play together......for all the years it bustled with activity....and for the ways in which it still does....

29. For finding the "new" barns to explore to replace the "old" barn whose remnant is shown above

30. For delicious, golden light

31. For time to edit some pictures....though not all....

November's lovely autumn continued as we had two days last week of huge, snow-globe-type flakes falling all morning (it was most lovely because it all melted by 5 p.m.!).

32. For Mice who desperately want to EAT the snow (one more than the other)

33. For a responsible Miss Mouse who would never think of some of the escapades her sister engages in.

34. For a fiery Sunny Mouse who taught me to sample the fresh snow (off the wooden swingest, thank you very much) and to taste it's freshness

35. Snow - Nature's Cotton Candy

(I love Miss Mouse's face in this picture - Pure confusion and disgust! Why is my sister eating snow from the dirt?)

36. Catching snowflakes so big I could feel them melting on my tongue

37. Time to play games, play musical instruments, to play in the snow, to play at the park as a family

Yes, Virginia

These words have been rattling around in my head for some time now; it just seems like finally the right season to force them out into a semblance of coherence.

Several weeks ago in Sunday School, the S-man came up...... the Guy in the Big Red Suit, Saint Nicholas, none other than Mr. Santa Claus himself was a brief topic of discussion amongst my 3 and 4 year olds (and 2-yr-olds, if indeed Sunny counts as more of a participant than a mascot). I'm not sure how, or why, or how he related to what we were discussing, but one of my sweet, little Sunday School girls innocently commented, complete with her adorable lisp, "Santa's just pwetend.". I smiled at her and went on with our lesson, hoping neither of my girls had picked up on her little statement.

After multiple time-outs, too many scream-fests to count, and behavior nearing the Mommy-may-tear-her-hair-out-piece-by-piece level, I finally figured out that not only was Miss Mouse upset that our Sunday School drama stage had changed, which it had that day, but she had also heard the Santa posit. Rats.

So, as we continued to deal with the "why did the set have to change to tell different stories" question repeatedly asked and answered for three days (our Miss Mouse is a definite creature of habit), I also decided I needed to address the Santa comment in question.

Far earlier than I had ever imagined, I took Miss Mouse on my lap and asked again if she had indeed heard what Little Cute Girl said at Sunday School. Oh, yes, indeed she had. "Okay, deep breath, Mommy," I thought and proceeded to utilize this strange age of technology to pull up the "Yes, Virginia" letter within seconds online.

I remember coming home from school having heard similar rumblings about Santa and asking my mom "the" question. I distinctly remember sitting at the kitchen table with her as she read that letter. I remember she had a hard time reading through it and had tears in her eyes, and I remember clearly that I couldn't figure out why. I'd be willing to be she still has that copy of the newspaper editorial; it was, I think, yellowed already at the time she read it to me, say 25 years ago. Maybe it even came from a neighbor or someone who had already used it for her own children before us. Whatever the case, I remember her reading it, and I remember a sort of disappointment as the idea took hold that perhaps Santa wasn't really the person who put all the glorious presents under the tree on Christmas morning....but there was also a sense of security, warmth, and love as I was given permission to believe, if not in the person of Santa Claus, definitely in the idea of him. At that point, it didn't matter to me that the Santa who stopped by Papa's house on Christmas Eve was Jim Grote (and maybe Ron, too, sometimes?) rather than Saint Nicholas himself; it mattered that we were celebrating love and giving and Jesus' birth together in that warm house and that Jim cared enough to spend his own Christmas Eve traipsing around the neighborhood in a big, red suit.

And so I read and snuffled and read and sniffed and read and swallowed really, really hard. I explained as clearly as I could to my four-year-old Miss Mouse that Saint Nicholas - the real Nicholas - was a giver because he knew of Christ's gift to him. We have a book about Nicholas, so Miss Mouse does know his real story. She knows we give Christmas money to our Compassion sponsored children because Jesus died for our sins; she knows we donate food to the food bank for the same reason; she knows that is why we rang the Salvation Army bell for an hour last week in below-freezing temperatures to raise money for those who have no food or homes; she knows that is why we have "adopted" a soldier spending Christmas in a dangerous and distant land and are sending him a care package. She knows we give because of the gift we have received in Christ.

And she knows that is why Saint Nicholas gave and why Santa Claus, today, gives to us. At our house, Santa doesn't bring humongously large, impressive presents. One year, "he" painted a moon on Miss Mouse's bedroom wall; the next year, he gave her a note that said she'd get to go to another session of skating lessons. This year, he's going to be a real hit if he comes up with clip-on earrings for Sunny and lip gloss for Miss Mouse. No doubt he'll come up with a few more impressive items to add, but he's definitely not the "cash cow" here that he has come to be in our society-at-large.

So, for now, Santa is still safe at our house. The Mice can't hardly wait to go see him when he comes to "live" here in town for the season; I'm holding my breath that our Santa is still "our Santa" given that that man is actually our neighbor a few doors down and lost his son early this summer. More than ever this year, I hope "our Santa" can feel the promise and hope of Christ that encouraged Saint Nicholas so many hundreds of years ago.

*This post is not intended to be a critique of those who choose not to let their children believe in Santa Claus. I first heard of that practice when we were pregnant with Hope seven years ago, and I was honestly horrified because of how beautiful my experience with Santa, and even my experience finding out that he wasn't "real", was. I realize, though, that not everyone's experience was like mine. I love the Little Cute Girl who made the comment at Sunday School, and I harbor no negative feelings towards her or her parents. I was just shocked at how young we had to address this issue, and my reason for writing about it is to remember how we addressed it and why we addressed it when and how we did, not to critique anyone's parenting choices.

Her Turn

It's been such an exciting summer for her big sister with new accomplishments that I've never seen a child of mine do before that I'm looking back on the blog here realizing that maybe I haven't painted quite as brilliantly sweet a picture of Sunny Mouse as I have of Miss Mouse.

This go around, this second time of seeing bandaid-ed knees, dandelions crumpled in tight fingers, first sentences, first rote countings to 16...In another lifetime I may have had the idea that it would seem more routine the second time around. Nothing could be further from the truth. Sunny has such a bright personality, such fire in her; it erupts in her contagious giggle, her dimpled smile, her flashing eyes as well as in her sudden tantrums! She is definitely a no-holds-barred type of gal; her knees show this well. I thought she'd slow down now that winter has set in, but it seems that she is determined to learn to run in snowboots. At this point, my main prayer is for all her teeth and bones to survive the winter intact.

Sunny has been such a trooper, learning to play independently while Miss Mouse does her preschool work. Here she's conned her big sis out of the large Braille-dots that Miss Mouse created (while we were learning about sight and Helen Keller....) and is happily lining them up on the floor. I think she spent a good 15-20 minutes lining them, messing them up, and reshaping them.

This picture is from mid-summer, so the girls now need to be pictured 1.5 inches taller (I'm serious - they measured themselves last weekend). Use your imagination to add another inch or so. In this picture, Sunny is proud that she made the foam letter magnets on the fridge into a shape. Miss Mouse is also proud. They are eachother's fiercest cheerleaders; Heaven help the bystander who doesn't cheer for the sister!

Apparently Miss Mouse wasn't sure I got her sister's picture quite appropriately. They're just making sure I caught the "magic" of the moment, I guess.

I'm unhappy with almost all the pictures in this post, technically. I'm pretty thrilled to have captured my Sunny's personality so well, though. We have pictures of Miss Mouse in these poses; she is hesitantly trying to be the best little model she can be. Sunny just enjoyed hamming it up, knowing I was trying to catch her.

Her short little legs we did not peg as runners, but she's doing her best to prove us wrong. And to grow her legs by adding an inch and a quarter in height (somewhere - her body maybe?) since July.

Sunny's brave; at home her bravado shines through, screams through sometimes, yet she's also nearly as hesitant as Miss Mouse in some situations. I don't trust her; Sunny's an incredibly "typical" two-year-old, ready to run head first into danger. But she's also sensitive; she burst into tears yesterday when she tripped and nearly fell on our way down the stairs. "Dat wad skeewy" she managed to sob out. She also, the same day, had to sit on her sister's lap when I used the sewing machine on a "wowd" (loud) stitch setting. She's unpredictable for sure!

The Mice have been using any stick deemed long enough for their walking sticks/hiking sticks. Maybe next summer our hiking plans won't be flooded out, and they'll get to try their hand at the real thing!

I think it's hilarious to look at that mouthful of teeth and remember how long and hard she/we worked to get them! What a little shark mouth!

"Are you comin' or not????? 'Cuz I'm going!!" I can just see it in her mind.

With all the dimpled smiles and mischievous eyes, this is my sweet baby. This is my Little One who now insists she be called "Big One", mainly because she's proud she can reach the light switch to turn it both on and off. Oh, the independence she is finding! She can hardly wait to be three, and now that we started attempting to learn some letters more officially, she's delighted to be in "pre-sku-dool". She loves her "Mama time" and definitely enjoys watching Miss Mouse swim because it means she has Mama all to herself to cuddle, draw, or just sit with. She's a real 'run-for-our-money', and may always be, but she also looked directly in my face this afternoon, after ringing the Salvation Army bell for an hour in 20-degree temps, and told me that the baked oatmeal I made as a snack to warm us was, "Dust a wonderful tweet, Mommy! A wonderful tweet!". And that's just what she is. A wonderful treat.

Go Fish

Miss Mouse has been doing super with her alphabet; she knows pretty all capital and "small-partner" letters and can write most of them, as well.

What she hasn't been completely sure of is number-recognition past 5. As of mid-September, she recognized the symbols up to 5, but past there, she was sort of fuzzy on the symbols. Counting isn't a big deal for her; she can count up to 30 herself and beyond with help. But the number recognition was something I knew we needed to work on.

In September, I started having "Momma time" with each girl in the afternoon. Each girl gets 30 minutes of me to herself. They both love it and ask for it everyday. I love it. I think we're going to love it even more on the long, cold winter days to come. Anyway, it occurred to me one day that playing cards forces number recognition, but that it does it in a fun way! Miss Mouse loves worksheets, but I can only dole out so many of those in good conscience. So, Miss Mouse was introduced to "Go Fish"!

We usually play in her room, as the afternoon sun streams in her window, each of us sitting on a warm spot of carpet, our bare feet soaking in the heat. On this particular day, I just couldn't resist grabbing my camera, something about her blonde curls and big eyes, I guess.

While we sit and play, at least on the days that Sunny obediently takes her "quiet time" in her own room, we focus only on each other, only on our game. That's all there is in the world, all that matters for those 30 minutes.

It's been four years since I laid on the living room floor, in a piece of sunshine, staring at my sweet baby staring at me. I wouldn't change where we're at in life right now at all; there's so much excitement, so much going on - swimming, Sunday School, playdates - but there is a simplicity and quietness and stillness to sitting on a piece of sunshine with this little blonde girl.

It's really just a bonus that she's improved tremendously in hand coordination (and she has always had pretty good dexterity - Cheerios were never an issue for her left pointer and thumb....) and now recognizes all the numbers in the deck.

As of this day we hadn't even introduced a scoring system yet, but look at that tongue! For a no-pressure game, she certainly concentrates!

And concentrates....

Until she gets them "just right" in her hand.

Just this past week, Miss Mouse finally understood the idea that she isn't supposed to tell me which cards she has. She now thinks it's hilariously funny to hide her cards from me, especially if she draws one she knows I want. Then I can tell from her cat-that-ate-the-canary face that there's a card there I want!

Yesterday I attempted to introduce a scoring system where each card laid down is worth two points...it's my attempt to integrate "skip counting" into "Go Fish". Really, today I integrated her memory verse (Psalm 90:12) into "The Doodlebops" television show story; I should be able to get skip counting into a card game!

One thing I love about these half-hour segments of card playing with my four-year-old is that I can see Papa sitting across from me at his kitchen table, smell the coffee and Emma's doughnuts, hear the door open when Dad comes into check on us as we play our own game of "Go Fish"; I can see Grandma playing hand after hand of "Rummy" with me, all afternoon card games that lasted until one of us was too hungry to play anymore, or until Grandpa came in to see what was for supper. How can it be that those memories are 20+ years old now? I love that we've carved out time for Miss Mouse to have her own memories of games....of time with people who love her....of quiet moments sitting on a piece of sunshine.