Maybe my favorite holiday.

I love New Years.

The holiday season flies by at the speed of light, stress and angst at every corner.

In October, there's Halloween, in which the part of me that grew up Southern Baptist can never be comfortable celebrating, and the part of me that is a health food nut can never be okay with the candy consumption. But we jump in with both feet, costumes, trick-or-treating, candy and all.

In November, there's Thanksgiving, in which I feel the need to prove my domestic fabulousness, even though I'm the only one who really gives a rip, and my kids don't like anything but the turkey and dinner rolls. Oh yeah, and try to remember to um, be THANKFUL and stuff. But we count our blessings at least twice, three or four times if I'm really on top of it, and I try not to feel too guilty about whichever family we're not with this year.

In December, oh, it's a DOOZY! In December, I try to manage our budget while simultaneously buying or making a thoughtful gift for every single person we know, feel guilty about the not-thoughtful gifts, try not to give in to the stress of imperfections in the thoughtful gifts, forget to make dinner, forget to buy food in general, feel angsty about the whole Santa thing, forget to even PLAN a gift for at least three people, second guess the plan... And yell at my husband a lot for not being psychic. Oh yeah, and teach my children that WE LOVE CHRISTMAS because JESUS! YAY JESUS!

Dude. Here's why I love the new year:

Tomorrow, life will be boring.

For a couple months, we will work on re-establishing a rhythm. I will forget a bunch of minor holidays and shrug it off. Sometime in February, all the stuff we've been working on since August will start to come together. I will take deep breaths.

The days will start to get longer. Flowers and trees will bloom. I'll be able to find God in the slowness of not trying to make everything perfect for celebrations he never commanded anyway. Every New Year, I remember what faith feels like. What hope and optimism look like.

A New Year. Welcome, 2013.

Benjamin's Quilt

Last week, as I was thinking about the kids' Christmas gifts, I needed to come up with something for Benjamin. As the poor fourth kid, there is absolutely nothing he needs, but obviously we want to mark his first Christmas with something special.

I decided to make him a small quilt, just as fast as I possibly could... And I busted this sucker out in just a few days:

Sunday, I bought the fabric,
Monday, I cut and began piecing it,
Tuesday, I finished piecing it and made the quilt sandwich,
Wednesday, I quilted it, cut the binding... AND.... My iron died. IRON FAIL.

We left for Brian's company meeting, and my sweet sister gave me my kids and her iron on the way home, so Sunday, I bound it.

The quilt is backed in a cozy flannel that I found on Joann.com on Black Friday for $1.98 per yard. Score!

Finished size is 38x48

Happy Birthday, Isaac!

Isaac has hit that phase where every little thing that goes wrong, no matter how minor, warrants the Death Scream. He'll outgrow it soon, I'm sure; the others did it too. In the meantime, I have about three heart attacks a day, and inevitably, DON'T come when he's actually hurt.

On the other hand, Brenna has figured out how to make him laugh really quickly, and its such fun to see her step into that role on behalf of her pesky little brother.

In related news, last night, the kids were being SO LOUD in bed, what with the cackling, bouncing and merry-making, Brian made a sarcastic comment about it clearly being time for sleep. I responded, "yeah, but they really like each other."

"Yeah, I guess they do," he said, and we sat there for a bit and just enjoyed that idea.

Animals are people too, I guess.

"Benjamin, you have so many people who love you!" I told him.

"Yeah, you have me, you have Paisley, you have Brenna, you have the chickies...." says Nathan.

Thankful

This Thanksgiving, the blessing that stands out to me most is the gift of exceptional friends. While my friends have always been amazing, recently, I feel that we have turned our attentions to spurring one another on to holiness so much more than happiness.

Thank you, ladies. For helping me grow, for demanding it. For not being content to stay the people we are, but also for loving, unconditionally, the people we are. For turning my eyes to Him.

I am thankful for you.

Beards

Says Brenna:

There are two people in our family with beards now. But Paisley can't get rid of hers.

Fwends

Says Isaac: I wish daddy could be my age so we could be fwends.

On Time. Or Not.

This morning as we were leaving for church, I looked at the clock and said, "if we leave now we might actually be on time. What would we do with ourselves then?"

Brian responded, "act like a family with four kids that has their act together."

Never fear, we wouldn't want to look like we have our act together. Before we got on the road we had to turn a jacket around the correct direction, untangle a twisted seatbelt and buckle in an oversize teddy bear that we all understand (thank you, Nathan) is not really a person.

Keeping expectations high around here!

Overgrown

This is what happens when you accidentally plant pole beans instead of bush beans:

Oh, and that's a cucumber Brenna is holding, not a green bean. Just in case there was any confusion :)

My Husband Rocks.

So this is what Brian has been up to in his spare time lately:

Power tools + Oakleys = Studly

About six weeks (maybe more?) into the process

Tim, Neighbor Extraordinaire. Seriously.

Will it EVER be done?

We drool. That's what we do.

Close enough? Nope.

I stayed busy too. Very important research.

My fave rosebush. It makes me happy :)

TaDa! I love my house.

The right side still needs to be stained, then it's all done. And I can have my husband back! Although, I think he may have remembered how much he loves to work with wood. I had him distracted there for a while...

It Works!

So.  I've taken a bit of a break from blogging. My excuse is that the keyboard on my computer stopped working sometime in February, and I have no idea why. But we backed everything up and reinstalled the stuff, and well, it works again, so YAY! So I can blog and budget and sort out my overwhelmingly unorganized Pictures folder.

(really, I can't explain how wonderful it is to have a working keyboard. Ever tried to use your computer without one? I was about to go mad selecting one letter at a time on the onscreen keyboard with my mouse.)

(also, we don't have to buy a new computer!)

Moving on...


It's summer in the chatty household, and we've been laying low. I started a new quilt, one for Brian and I, while I try to figure out how to transition a toddler sized quilt I was making for Isaac to twin size.










Brenna and Isaac started gymnastics this week, and that's going to be awesome, and all three kids will start survival swim lessons in July.

Brian is working in San Francisco, in a job that has been a real challenge for him. I'm pretty sure he'll look back on this time euphemistically as a time of growth.






Benjamin is grabby, slobbery, smiley, and otherwise wonderful. He's a mellow little man, for which I am deeply grateful (and optimistically hoping will continue!). He is beloved by his siblings, and his socks are beloved by the dog, who keeps stealing them and eating the toes out.

Benjamin

Because I want to remember

I'm not sure that anyone else would ever be interested in this list, except, perhaps women who may also wish they could remember. These are things I never want to forget, but know that I will:

The feel of my slimy baby as they put him on my belly after his birth, that moment when he squirms on the outside of me, all slippery, and I reach down to hold him, so that he won't slide right off. So tiny, skinny, warm.

The first time he eats, he knows just what to do, though actual skill is not there yet. And he calms. Exactly as he's been designed to do.

The way his feet are completely soft, no calluses, yet.

Probably my favorite thing about a newborn, the way he opens his mouth to catch me when I kiss his cheeks. He shakes his head back and forth like a baby bird. I always miss it when they grow out of that.

The way he stops, mid panicked-cry or frustrated grunt, when he latches on to eat. As though the angst never happened.

His body, curled tight, his feet pressed against his shins.  At two and a half weeks, he's already beginning to stretch out and relax.

When I lift him in his sleep, and he arches backward, with his tiny fists pressed against his cheeks and his lips pursed, knees pulled up high. The tiny grunts and groans at the unfairness of being moved.

We swaddle him, and he takes two ragged breaths, then calms.

The way, those first few days, he looked so much like his big brothers, I would forget who I was looking at.

The songs that play in my mind whenever i hold him, Beautiful Boy by John Lennon, Love You Up to the Moon by Kim Hill and the Christmas song, Sweet Little Jesus Boy.

A conversation with the big kids before he was born, as I waddled around the Yukon to our front door, about how Mary would have felt, sitting on a donkey for days, how long it took to travel, how she could not have walked, and the impatience at the end of a pregnancy.

His absolute assurance that my body exists to meet his needs, and my occasional sadness for babies whose needs are not met.

How his eyes sometimes cross when he tries to focus on things.

The peace and absolute contentment when he falls asleep curled against me. So tiny. And he knows he belongs there.


His breath. He has the most beautiful, sweet-smelling breath.

Every once in a while I catch glimpses of the expression that will become his smile. It's thrilling.