Whirlwind. Every year, it seems that no matter how hard we try, the holiday season whirls by in a cloud of family visits, decorations, magical moments of Santa and lights, and of course, lots and lots of food. The impossibility of keeping to a schedule has become increasingly common for me during this time with each subsequent addition to our little brood. My New Year's resolution is to actually show up where we are to show up, remember to take the medicine we are supposed to take, and return to the land of being responsible and reliable people--a seemingly simple plan that evaded us in December. The house is currently being cleaned and reorganized to the point that Daddy not only takes out the trash twice a day but has to have a tour of what has been rearranged and placed into a new home when he comes home in the evenings. We have a chalkboard with my simple reminders of the four things I cannot remember to do no matter how hard I try; a new mini iPad (thank you hubby for the best gift ever) with a calendar that screams at me everyday with reminders in case I am on Facebook instead of remembering violin; and the old fashioned color-coded wall calendar to match. Please, Lord, let us be organized in 2014. Step one, document those final 2013 moments in a nutshell...
The month of November solidified what has been happening all year. Brothers becoming best friends. I remember when they were tiny and Joey and I would wonder what they would say to each other when they actually conversed with one another. Now we know. The brotherly love...and fights...are flowing. This is absolute bliss. If not for the 17 month old who needs constant, and I mean constant, supervision, I would actually be able to have some time to myself while these guys were on their latest trip to the land of make-believe. I have even learned to let go and let mess as the mattresses become forts and the couch cushions boats.
Meet Wobbly-bear. Woofie Dog Dog is not alone. I have acquired my fifth child now that must travel with the boys, Woofie, and Mom and Dad. My quest to offer every lovey known to man for the past 17 months is over as the favorite has been chosen.
The season of love began with a trip to Jackson to see Grandma and Grandaddy for Thanksgiving. Our sweet niece Wallis, outnumbered by the trifecta of boys on both sides, hung tough with the action. We ate, we watched football, I actually read 40 pages of a book, played outside, and ate some more. The travel is getting easier and the trips a little more uneventful, in a good way. If we are all smiling, stitches free, healthy, and sleeping that is a good trip to me.
Lots and lots of cousins!
We jumped the calendar up a notch to let the kids celebrate Christmas while we were all in the same room with Uncle Tommy and Aunt Nicole. If you want to be the best aunt and uncle in the entire world, you give Alden legos. Star Wars legos at that. This was the first major lego set that Alden put together 100% by himself. It is fairly amazing how meticulous he can be with his work and precise with following directions. Interestingly, we are not quite as meticulous and precise with our school work or listening skills when it comes to Mommy and teacher directions, but at least we know it is possible.
And then you hit the moment. The moment when your youngest child opens their first present all by himself. The moment they discover that new toys or clothes or really just a box are underneath all that fun ripping. This marks the beginning of the thought that all presents should be opened because all presents are for Harrison. There may have been a few perfectly wrapped boxes under the tree that ended up being shipped in a manilla envelop after someone got to it first and Mommy just didn't have the energy to wrap it all again.
Shockingly, in a whisp of holiday joy, Joey volunteered to go and get the tree on our way back into town the day after Thanksgiving. I am a lot less picky these days about a tree, basically it just has to have branches, and so it was an easy 15 minute ordeal. The silly boys were only impressed that you can tie it to the roof of the van.
My, oh my, oh my. Child number three has learned a new word, "choo-choo." Spencer is caught somewhere in the middle of being thrilled to teach Harrison about his passion and really ticked off that he shares it. It is sort of cool to have someone to play with, but there are strict train rules that you have to follow in Spencer-land and Harrison has yet to learn them. For instance, I have learned that you cannot say "choo-choo" unless an actual choo-choo is there. This is the equivalent of shouting "fire!" in a crowded theatre. In addition, if you are going to play with trains and you are not Spencer, you are only allowed to play with the "trains that have mouths" because these are of no interest to him. However, it is seriously hilarious to hear Spencer explaining the difference between steamies and diesels to Harrison, i.e., "Harry, this is a diesel, can you say diesel?" Spencer has, subsequently, decided that he will be the engineer and Harry gets to shovel the coal.
The rarest moment of them all. Take a look, this one is a one of a kind. The oldest two may be best friends...the oldest and youngest may be buddies...the middle and youngest are still working on that.
Of course, Harrison is attempting to bond with everyone and is showing a similar interest in the dinosaur world of Alden. There are a lot less rules there. No one slaps you if you chew on the dinosaur, you can say. "Roar" without exception, and pretty much the owner of the dinos is at Kindergarten all day anyway so what he don't know won't hurt him.
In other news, Alden broke his foot. Just kidding. His friend, Ada, broke her foot and wore a boot for the first few months of school. In an act of friendship and camaraderie, Alden cleverly chose an Ugg from my closet to match his friend. But, I think the fact that Alden has not actually had to wear a medical boot is a miracle.
Case and point. Alden's 4th set of stitches in 5 years. Yes, 4th. Alden was born with two left feet. We were enjoying a little Zoolight Safari when Alden gazed up at the lights. Standing on solid ground, he falls over, grabs a dividing pole on the way down, gets tangled in the attached garland, and stands back up with a gash in his head. No, not the best of Saturday Night Live, just what happens to Alden. A trip to the first aid station provided not much more than a band aide and an assurance that everything was fine; all the while, the woman never turned on the lights or interrupted the percolating hot chocolate. We got on the train ride before Joey and I both spoke up about what we were both thinking. We have seen enough gashes and cuts before to know what needs a little more attention.
To the after hours children's clinic we go! They fit us in which means it was a long, long night. Alden hung in there watching Disney channel. Sadly, since we had been here and done that before, he knew what lay ahead of him. I am not sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but I do know his main concern was that he would not be able to put his head under the water to wash his hair because of his stitches. Knows. the. drill. The funny thing about Alden was that he was totally embarrassed by the whole thing and didn't want anyone to know. Therefore, his insistant solution was to cover it with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle band aide...because that won't call attention to it at all.
Now, most families would get over this little incident and go on with the holidays, but not mine. I am room moming it at Alden's Class Christmas party when I get a text message from Joey telling me to anticipate coming home to get Harrison and take him to the ER....followed by the letters "wtf!" Head injury number 2. This kid is into everything, like stresses us out and consumes our every waking moment fearful of what he will do next into everything. Like I just spent $250 on Amazon for even more child proofing than we already had for the first two boys getting into everything. Joey had already pulled him off the bedroom chair three times and dared to turn around for that infamous split second to pick up his shoe. Clearnly not heeding Daddy's three warnings, lightening flash bolted up the chair and fell and hit his head on our bedside table. Why would anyone think they had to baby proof the table that is at least four inches above the height of your child? I am awed, ashamed, terrified, reporting that I know what to pack for an emergency room visit and have it down to five minutes. Off Spencer and I go with our next patient. Spencer just keeps saying, "Guess what? I am the only one that doesn't have stitches. I am careful!" Thank you, Jesus, we have one that is.
As I am sitting in the room waiting to see if I was going to have to call my pediatrician, social worker friends, and priest in to bail me out of jail for having two kids with head stitches in 48 hours, I thought if that tiny thing in the ceiling wasn't a camera documenting my every move, I would document the little rampage in action. It never stopped. For the three hours we waited he never stopped moving.
Please note: In the last crying photo, he is not crying because his head hurts. He is crying because after the doctor spent five minutes with him, he decided there was no way to do his stitches without giving him a little laughing gas to calm him down and make him stay still. This meant no more snack. He is crying because the doctor took away his snack.
Band aides are really annoying. Note to self: Even laughing gas does not make Harrison stay still.
Anyone else find it ironic that my HARRY has a scar in the middle of his head! Muggle no more!! Since we unfortunately got the intern as the stitch guy, I am pretty sure we will have a Halloween costume plan forever.
Now onto the joys of the season. What would Christmas be without a trip on the North Pole Express!
Clearly, we do it all for this little one who is thrilled beyond measure.
The North Pole Express goes just about how everything else goes around here these days with a 17 month old Leo in our midst. The oldest brothers sat in their little seats looking out of the window and holding on to their little tickets while Harrison played musical laps, whose iPhone can I mess up, and how loud can I scream.
I fear, however, that our trips on the North Pole Express may have to end for Alden sooner rather than later. And not just because I have a place setting of insulated train coffee mugs for 12 taking up a good portion of an already small vintage kitchen. He is starting to ask way, way too many questions and know way, way too much information. For instance, um...why is there no snow at the North Pole? Did you see the cars and trucks on the road behind the workshop, why were they there? Wouldn't you have to get on a plane to go to the top of the world? Why are the elves so big? I had to seriously pull some stuff out of the depths of my BS box for those answers.
Nonetheless, Santa is still very magical and very, very real to all of us. Luckily, we had the first seat on the train so that Santa and Mrs. Claus could photo bomb our pic. Because when the boys discovered he was there...
Harrison bolted as fast as he could! Not. A. Fan.
But cute as a button.
December 1 also marked the return of Sam, our elf, who showed up with his usual gift of Christmas pajamas, a new Christmas movie, and a book from Santa. This year was especially magical with Sam and Alden. Alden 100% is into Sam, waking up at 5 am to find him, drawing him pictures and writing him letters, having endless conversations with him about all the things going on in his life. He may hate me for all of this one day. I am happy to report that Sam only "slept in" one morning out of all 24 this year which is better than last year. Mommy told Alden and Spencer that it was because Daddy slept downstairs and so Sam couldn't show him is magic. They were mad at Daddy, Daddy was rolling his eyes at me, but hey, that was his one contribution to the Sam project all Christmas so you get what you get, you know? Alden decided one night to send an invitation to Santa to come to our Pancakes and Pajama party.
And he showed up!
On a rainy, Saturday morning full of boots, umbrellas, and raincoats.
When I was a little girl, you were lucky if you got to see Santa one time at the mall while he was visiting. He was this great, big creature who was part exciting and part terrifying and definitely mysterious. Now, Santa is everywhere! He is like Uncle Santa that lives next door and you tell him what you want so many times it is as though we believe he has developed Alzheimer's. I worked overtime to get the kids to even go and see Santa who was sitting by himself in my living room while they watched Christmas cartoons and made pinecone Christmas trees. I bribed some of them, pulled out a book for Santa to read, and made a mental note to have this party earlier in the season next year.
Still not Harrison's friend.
I will take a moment to thank Daddy Joe who finally got into the Christmas spirit and jumped in head first. He wore the matching pajamas,helped me cook eight packs of bacon, made multiple trips to the grocery store when I kept running out of supplies for my 320 ounces of Gingerbread play dough, and stood in the kitchen to flip pancakes for 60 people for two hours. The man pulls through in a crunch.
Per family tradition number 3, everyone receives their new Christmas ornament on the night we decorate the tree. I try to make it thematic to their interest or the most important part of their year.
Spencer has had a train every single year. Running out of options there.
Alden was frankly just pissed off. He was totally mad that Spencer got a green Christmas ornament and he didn't because green was his favorite color. I had chosen an owl because of it being his school mascot and this was his first year in Kindergarten at his school. Bad mistake. It was not a lego; it was not a superhero; it was not a dinosaur. As I am often reminded at times like these, cries pouring and arms flailing about, I was "the worst mother in the world!"
After a bit of mommy guilt, which I do try to reserve for special occasions such as these, I did get him to decide that it might not be the worst thing that happened in his life and that perhaps he would calm down enough to put his ornament on the tree. Spencer loved the whole thing holding his train ornament.
By child number three, and with this one's track record, all ornaments from his reach (I measured) down were not breakable or sentimental. Good prediction on my part because Harrison spread the Christmas cheer all over the living room floor on a daily basis. The joys of decorating the tree were endless this year.
So, I spent every single week room moming it over Christmas. Kindergarten wore me out, let alone his teacher! I went shopping for crafts supplies, showed up to help with the weekly crafts, went on a field trip, baked, and spent three hours wrapping individual bells and packing them up for Santa to deliver on North Pole Express day. On one of my days as pseudo teacher assistant, Alden decided that he was sick. He really needed to come home, and since he announced this in front of other adults, what do you do but take him home. I was quite unsure about his illness, and he verified my suspicions when we got home for the biggest play day of the year! Humm...well my friend, unfortunately when you are "sick" at my house you better be sick. We had plans to go to the Club with friends for dancing and dinner with Santa. Unfortunately, when you are sick, you have to stay home with Grandma. Mom and Dad 1, Alden 0 in that game. So, Spencer go to be king of the ball dancing the night away and visiting the dessert table. I think he might have been the biggest winner in the shenanigan.
Spencer was also the only one who had a Christmas program this year, so he was the star of the family! Grandma even came over from Jackson to watch him ring his bells.
Now, more concerning however, is Harrison's celebrating. I was wrapping Feliz Navidad neighbor gift that included beer for the adults and reindeer soda for the kids. Harrison was having a great time unloading the bottles from the cardboard carrier and reloading them when he disappeared briefly into my kitchen. He comes back with the correct tool and sits down to open the bottle...correctly! What the what?! I swear Joey and I are not drinking
that much beer! This on is going to be our undoing I fear.
One of Harrison's other loves are jackets and shoes. He asks to wear them and sleep in them and follows you around holding them until you oblige. I am a firm believer that he is a man on the go who believes that shoes and jackets equal leaving the house. He also loves to grab lunch boxes or bags and walk to the front door and say, "Bye-Bye." Clearly, we have one observant toddler.
Spencer and Alden were in the Christmas pageant at church. All you have to do is show up on the day of the pageant and pick your animal or person and, boom, you are dressed up and get to sit in church and stand up when your part of the Christmas story is read. All day long, Spencer wanted to be a shepherd and Alden wanted to be a donkey. So, we got them all dressed up.
But, then Spencer realized that his brother and his friend were going to be animals, so we switched to a cow. Now, it turns out that I really wish he would have been a shepherd. In the middle of quiet, pageant church, my cow comes running down the center aisle, cow bell ringing loudly and laughter from the congregation as he runs to find Mom and Dad. He then proceeded to talk very, very loudly and ring his bell. I tried to take off the bell and hear, "NO! I want to be a cow and you won't let me!" Mom and Spencer subsequently exit church to watch from the back. He thrice tries to open the church door to run back down the aisle only to be stopped by the two ushers who had to barricade the door with their entire bodies and the priest is just looking at us half in horror and half in laughter. I finally leave the whole thing when "I want to go outside!" is being shouted and walk around trying to find somewhere to put him since all the "big" kids are in church and there is no sunday school or nursery for him. He, out of the blue, pitches a huge fit that he loves Harrison so much and always wants to be with him and to please let him be with Harrison in his nursery. I asked the workers, they said yes, the director found out, was irritated, and said that she guessed we would just have to overlook that this time, and that was church for me on Christmas eve. Thank you, Spencer, for that wonderful morning of worship and for sneaking the entire bag of marshmallows while your parents slept that probably caused the whole thing.
Looking at Christmas decorations in a vest and bow tie with a Ninja Turtle band aide on your stitches is just priceless.
Alden had violin lessons on Christmas Eve afternoon. Violin is about to be the death of all of us. He wants to play it but he doesn't want to practice it. We are currently working on various strategies of bribery, games, and competitions to encourage his cooperation for the FIVE MINUTES he is supposed to practice each day, but almost all of them involve a glass of wine for Mom.
The Christmas Miracle. Three kids, cooperating, facing forward.
Oh, yes! What is Christmas all about? Presents, of course! I kept quizzing them over and over on the
true meaning of the day and how gifts didn't matter, but I am not sure it worked when the wrapping paper flashed before their eyes.
Harry's shoes and jackets.
Messes!
On Christmas Eve, Joey and I were seriously done in because of the marshmallow debacle. Spencer had not slept through the night in a week, and the marshmallows pushed Daddy over the edge for an all out ban on sugar. We threw everything out and then realized, very late in the day, that we would have to face the cookies for Santa. Every grocery store is closed to cheat and buy a pre-packaged box, so I go home to make these cookies in the jar thing that was a gift from a neighbor only to find out it is bread in a jar. I convince them to make the bread which turns out to be a disaster. Thankfully, I have Alden, the health police, as a child who told me that Santa was really too fat anyway and probably needed to eat something beside sugar. So, Santa got fruit and we had to leave exactly 8 carrots for the reindeer.
Harrison, who is still kind of confused about the mornings events, was very happy that Santa left him part of an apple for breakfast and was not at all worried about sharing germs with him.
For most of the morning, he worked on those leftovers.
All good boys get what they want. There is a website that sends you a message from Santa telling you whether you are on the nice list, the naughty list, or the nice/naughty list. They got the email saying they were on the nice/naughty list and took is so seriously. Alden teared up, but stood brave, and just walked out of the room so I wouldn't see him cry. Spencer became very stoic and said nothing. Gosh Darn It, I folded. I told them that Santa had sent me another email explaining that his computer had had a glitch. They watched it to find out they were on the nice list, and it was as if they were the sole provider for their family and found out they weren't laid off from work after all. I have never seen such relief and joy. Poor kids. Pushover Mom.
Of course, we had to endure the fighting over gifts. "It's mine!"/ "I want one, too!"
But, love over technology solves all problems.
And then there was the Christmas detox for a few days of library visits and other quiet, calm outings. Alden started counting down until Spring Break vacation and both boys were already making their birthday present lists of other things they wanted just to remind me how spoiled my children really are. More Mom morality lectures followed to deaf ears. But, for the most part, peace reigned among men, house remained a disaster, and 2013 came to a close in thanks for yet another blessed and wonderful year.
Happy 2014 to all!
