like white on rice

we have two nativity sets: a beautiful fontanini one that i received piece by piece from my mother over about a decade's worth of christmases, and a fisher price one that i bought at target when liam was two.  my beautiful one has a special spot in our newly renovated house, but the fisher price one is just as accessible in the family room, as it is still a favorite toy of the kids.  (this thing has been such a hit that i actually wrote about it twice in 2008:  here and here.  it's the gift that keeps on giving.)  so you can imagine that susanna was chomping at the bit to get her hands on it as soon as we started hauling all of our christmas decorations into the house from storage last weekend.   but as soon as she opened the box, she quickly informed me that many of the figurines were dirty.

i started to handwash each one at the kitchen sink, but then my eyes fell on the almost-full, soon-to-be-started dishwasher.  (really, is there any other state of a dishwasher, than almost-full and soon-to-be-started?)  jackpot!  "i'll just stick all of these little people in the top shelf and they'll be clean and pristine in no time," i shared with susanna, really patting myself on the back for this stroke of brilliance.

at least, it seemed brilliant at the time.  it wasn't until i removed them from the dishwasher a few hours later that i realized all these little people have small holes on their undersides (please, no comment about that) and had all filled with water.  moving them around the manger scene made them all sound like they were bellying up to the bar for another round -- and worse than the sloshing sound was the concern that they'd begin to leak onto the piece of furniture they're adorning for the next month or so.  drying these suckers out was a priority.

but how?  you can't squeeze them.  you can't open them.  pounding them into a towel in your hand results only in a small warm trickle.  [i promise -- i had no idea how this would sound when i began to write this post.]  at a loss, i suggested to susanna that she consult chris for a suggestion, before i headed out to the grocery.

i returned to find this.

"that's what you're supposed to do with your cell phone if it ever gets wet -- soak it in a bowl of rice," chris explained.  made perfect sense to me

so there you have it: a two inch-high plastic mary staring out from a clear organic basmati rice container.  not exactly what God had in mind, i'm sure.  but when i started to reflect on the whole scenario, i was struck by how true-to-life this actually is.  because isn't this just like mary?  in the midst of unspeakable conditions -- uncomfortable, pregnant, and in unfamiliar surroundings -- she still manages to have a serene smile on her face. 

wordless wednesday: thanksgiving style

liam's thanksgiving plans all came to fruition: we gathered at my parents' house.  the boys played football.  chris's parents joined us.  we ate a lot.  and then we went to bed.

oh, and a few other fun things happened along the way as well.

  the whole clan, including my sister-in-law laura and my brother ben, but minus the star of the show

here's the star of the show: my six-month old nephew teddy, of course! 

i am smitten

 the good news: the kids re-discovered monopoly and entertained themselves quite well with it for hours and hours.  
the bad news:  the kids re-discovered monopoly

 

of course, it didn't occur to us to take a picture of the three cousins until we were literally halfway out to the car the day after thanksgiving.  back inside we came -- ratty monkey on one lap, monkey hat on the other head.  no wonder poor teddy is confused

thanskgiving plans

one of his assignments from computer class -- can you tell it came home crumpled at the bottom of his bookbag?

i guess i should give thanks during this holiday week that while this boy of mine is obsessed with football, he has already come to terms with the fact that he will never play it.

following the path

i've been neglecting this blog lately, and feel incredibly guilty.  not for my readers, mind you; i'm under no false impression that i'm somehow disappointing people who check this site and find no new post.  no, i feel guilty for my children.  (and isn't that like trait #1 of any parent?  guilt?)  it's just that the kids are living their lives as always, learning and growing and doing funny things and not-so-funny things and several times a day i think, i must document this in the blog somehow.  and then time passes and work demands my attention and i find myself over-extended yet again with volunteer work even though i SWORE this year was going to be different and i was going to find a balance somehow. 

being the math dork that i am, i looked back at previous years just to see if my guilt is justified or not.  it's easy for me to see the number of posts on the right-hand side of the blog (believe me, if it required me actually scrolling back and counting, then this little statistics lesson would never have happened) and this is what i found as my totals from september through november of each year:

2008: 35 posts
2009: 28
2010: 22
2011: 15
and this year: 8

for anyone who doesn't want to figure this out, i'll do it for you: i posted 4 1/2 times as often in 2008 as i've done this year.  were our lives 4 1/2 times more interesting?  did we have 4 1/2 times as much going on?  or am i just 4 1/2 times more distracted with other things now?

i don't know.  but i do know i'm feeling 4 1/2 times more guilty.  i keep thinking of the day that our blog book arrives on the UPS truck -- probably sometime this summer, as it will take me roughly 7 months to get my act together -- and how disappointed the kids will be when they see how much smaller it is this year.  how many fewer stories there are for them to relive and laugh about.  how many fewer pictures there are for them to flip through over and over again. 

so here's my pledge to myself: i will post twice a week from now until the end of the year.  it might just be a few photos for wordless wednesday, or it might be a long, rambling story that doesn't interest anyone but me.  but i'm going to do it for the kids.  and for my memory, because i swear i'd forget most of my life if i didn't document it somehow.  (ask me in a week if i've found my car keys, which have been missing for most of november.)  but there's one more reason: i don't feel guilty only because i'm letting down liam and susanna; i feel guilty because i'm also letting myself down.

this fall, our entire church read the book following the path by joan chittister.  chris and i met in a small group last night to discuss it, and while i can't claim that i read the whole thing, i did read much of it.  and the message that i got out of it was that i need to feed my soul with things that i'm called to do.  there are certainly many things that i have to do: teach, cook, carpool, chores, etc.  that list could fill a few pages if i allowed it.  but there is a shorter list of things that i want to do.  things that i love to do.  things that i feel called by God to do.  i do them -- volunteer, read, play tennis, Bible study -- but only as time allows.  only when i have time left over from my obligations.  and one of those things that i love to do, but hardly ever do, is write.  only 8 times in the past 3 months have i sat down at the computer and written. that just strikes me as sad.

so i'm going to follow the path.  i'm going to heed the call.  twice a week, anyway.  it will make my children happy.  but it will make me happy too.

and now that i've spent a half-hour writing, i have four loads of laundry to fold.  better go follow that path to the laundry room.

the sweetest halloween

i don't know if it was the lack of sleep (i've worked until 1 a.m. more often than is healthy recently) or just my permanent sentimentality, but i wound up tearing up on the couch last night watching our children sort their candy.  i wrestled with whether to post this on the blog because, well, it's a little on the saccharine side.  i never want to be that mom who boasts loudly to anyone who will listen about how amazing/brilliant/selfless/[insert annoying positive adjective here] her children are.  one only needs to look at the most recent post to read all about one of my children's flaws.

but then i thought -- screw it.  this is real life.  this is what happened.  and i want to document it.

an ecstatic princess leia with a very slippery wig, and a soccer player who apparently wants to look as tough and non-smiley as all the professional athletes do in their photos

 we got home really late on halloween night due to all the fun.  we joined the neighborhood "parade" (i use that term loosely; it was more like 50 kids en masse walking down the street before dispersing) and then tricked-or-treated for an hour or so.  i peeled away to return home and man the door and throw together a late dinner, and chris and princess leia and the soccer star returned home a half-hour later.  we were still eating at the time they normally go to bed, so when it came time for the annual tradition of counting and sorting their candy -- a math lesson of the highest level if i ever saw one -- i told them it would have to wait until the following afternoon.

so thursday found us in the family room, me on the couch as i waded through their bursting-at-the-seams school folders, and them sprawled on the floor as they waded through their bursting-at-the-seams plastic orange pumpkins. 

think they're excited about all this sugar?  how can you tell?

susanna finished counting first.  "92!" she proudly exclaimed.

liam finished a minute or so later.  "110!" he said.

i looked up.  i steeled myself for gloating on his part and pouting on hers. (i don't know why; that's typically not their style.  i guess it's my style.)  but before any of that could take place, liam took over.

"you said you had 92, right?"  she nodded.  "um, okay ... and i got 110 ... so that means all i have to do is give you ... um ... 9 of mine, and then we have the same number.  right, mommy?"

i just sat there, sort of dumbfounded, while he continued to work through the calculations in his head.

"right, mommy?  92 plus 9 is 101, and then i'd also have 101 ... "  he started to count out nine pieces from his pumpkin to give to susanna.  "mommy, why are you crying?"

who knows.  maybe most siblings are like this.  maybe most siblings, even at the ripe old ages of 6 and 8, are best friends.  i should hope they are.  but as i hastily wiped my eyes and had them pose for a picture, i thought for the gazillionth time in my life: we are so blessed.

how sweet it is.

susanna planted a big one on liam's lips right as i started to snap the picture.  i guess anyone who had just been given nine pieces of primo chocolate for doing nothing in return would probably have the same reaction