The Throw Up Tales

Well, Tuesday ended up being a day of cleaning for me.   With an old house like ours, even after vacuuming, mopping, and straightening, it still doesn't always feel that different, but at least I know it's been cleaned.   I particularly enjoyed tidying up the bathroom, and hanging a mirror where the kids could see themselves while brushing their teeth, and even wiping all the way down to the base of the toilet.   I'm so glad that I spent all that time cleaning the bathroom (sense the sarcasm), because all Tuesday, Wednesday, and even today, the whole family has been seeing a closer side of the toilet than we'd like.    

Randy called me Tuesday from work, saying how nauseous he felt, and after hoping that none of us would get Asher's throw up bug, I was less than happy to hear it.    He continued working, at a slower pace, and came home and went straight to bed.   Later on, after I had gotten the kids in bed, River ran out telling me that Asher was throwing up in bed.   "Crap! Again?!"  were my immediate thoughts, seeing as it was the fourth day of this thing that was plaguing his little body.   Later on, it was me who was in and out of sleep, with only pictures of vomit waking me up.   Nice, huh?   I finally got up, and went to the toilet and did what I knew was coming no matter how hard I tried to deny it.    So, needless to say, the last couple days have not been fun. River came in this morning at 5, saying, "Daddy, throw up in my bed."     Poor sweetie.   She's still not feeling well.   

So, instead of being able to be "intentional" and have a fun week on our spring break, basically all we've been is cooped up in this sick house, laying on the couch and waiting for the plague to leave us alone.

With this whole sickness thing, though, I'm always confronted with my own selfishness.   The first thoughts even while helping my own children in their discomfort are often, "Uuggghh, I really don't want to get this."    or, "Don't breath, just don't breath.  And now go antibac your hands, and then go take a scalding shower to kill all the germs..."    Aren't I a terrible mother?!   But you know, with friends, the first thing you think of when you hear how someone else's kid is sick, is, "How long ago were we with them?   Shut!   I hope we don't get it!"    It's always about me, me, me.    It makes me sick.   (no pun intended)     And I see more than ever how much I need Christ.    What if he had thought, "You know, I really don't want to get icky sin all over me."   or, "I don't want to be beaten and tortured for something I didn't do."  or   "I think I'll stay away from all those sick people, because I really don't want to contract anything to keep me from my ministry."

I feel like our reaction to bad news or things that we can't control, is so often, "How will it effect me?  What does this mean for me?  How will I deal with this?    What will I do?"   Usually we aren't so likely to be selfless and think, "Oh, I wonder how I could help them?   or, I wonder how they're dealing with this.    How will they need help?"    If we do think this way, usually it is after all of the self-analysis, and self-induced situations have been thoroughly thought through, and meditated on.

But this morning, Randy and I were talking, and he said that as we were taking care of River this morning (holding her hair back, while she stood over the toilet, giving her a bath, changing her sheets, laying down in bed with her to help her fall back asleep) he thought about all the children that don't have anyone to take care of them while they're sick.   How they have to throw up on the street, and then do what?   No one strokes their hair, and rubs their face off with a cool wash cloth.   Who gives them a bath and tucks them back into bed.   And it is so sad to think of.    It wasn't with any guilt or condemnation as he was thinking of it, just more of a realization and compassion filling his heart for the little ones of this world who aren't as fortunate as our children.   So, in our sickness, even though it's no fun, and definitely not a part of life that I like, I'm thankful for our home, our beds, and our bathtub where we can all rest and recuperate.     And I pray for those on the street, that they would somehow know there is a Father who longs to comfort them.   To be a Father to them.   To love them.

Too Cold for Berks Today

Spring was her favorite season. When the Bradford Pears and Dogwoods start blooming, and the daffodils begin to pop their heads out after a long winter, when Easter is right around the corner, (or has just passed)... that's when I think of her more than ever. I always think of this picture, and have to pull it out. I love it because it represents her so much. Coming out of a springtime church service, searching in her purse for her keys, whistling whatever worship song got stuck in her head, walking in the warmer air with one of her many pairs of Berkinstocks on her feet.

She was a teacher, but not only to those in her class. Whenever she had her spring break, we would almost always take a trip down to the beach. When I would wake up on those mornings at the beach, usually I would find her sitting on the balcony of the condo, in the sun, with her big (and usually red) sunglasses on, reading a book. She would already have her bathing suit on, with her straps pulled down off her shoulders. I would lean down and give her a kiss, and smell her hawaiian tropic that she had faithfully put on. Even in the early morning sun, she would soak so much in that her chest and nose would begin to turn pink. She would ask me how I had slept, and if I wanted whatever yummy thing she had brought out for breakfast. I usually would sit with her for a minute out in the sun, before running off on one of my adventures with one of my friends, or to meet some new boy. I wish that I had sat with her longer. Asked her what she loved about the book she was reading. Talked with her about why she loved looking out at the beach so much. Or just sat and watched as she soaked in the sun. Just to be with her a little longer would have been nice.

I miss those days. Especially on cold days like today, while I'm on "spring break" but not really having a break. Days when I think my family is finally well enough to venture out into the world, but only to find the truth at Panera when my child projectile vomits up his lunch. Not really my idea of a fun lunch date. But we made it home. And after all the icky clothes were in the wash, and the baby had had a bath, and gone down for a nap, it was fun to snuggle up on the couch with my little girl and watch a movie. It reminded me of something we would do on the rainy days on spring break down at the beach. Even if it was cold and wet, we were still assured good time together. Watching movies, playing cards, doing puzzles, whatever it was, it was just fun to be together. So, even though we're not down at the beach this week, I'm looking forward to a slower week. A week of recovery, yes, but also, a week to have fun together. To be intentional with each other, and to just sit together...a little bit more.

Time After Time

I can remember dressing up, pink lacy gloves complete, and dancing the day away, while I blared my Madonna, Cindy Lauper, and Michael Jackson in my living room.    I guess that's why the other night attending an 80's party didn't feel that weird.   I think some part of me still thinks that it's cool to look like this.    You know how when you are young, you take to something soooo much, that it somehow becomes a part of you, even though it's not really cool anymore?   Yay, that's how I felt the other night.    It was really great to be able to be silly and celebrate a good friend.    She was definitely surprised, which was great.    Here are some pics from our nostalgic evening -  happy birthday, birthday girl!!!

Go Heels!

I've been sick for the last couple of days with some type of flu bug, and so my main place of resting (as usual when I'm sick) has been on the couch in the living room. My kids play in there, which means I can still supervise, even if mentally not quite as astute. However, there's been one perk to being sick for these last couple days, as the couch is located directly across from the tv. And, in case you're not into college basketball, we're right in the middle of the ACC Tournament. Usually, I would only have peeked in on some of the games to check the scores, and see who's going to play who, and then of course watched the Tarheels play. But because I've been laid up on the couch, I've had the luxury of watching every game. And even though my 16 month old son only says about 5 words, now "Ba-be-ball" (basketball) has entered into his vocabulary. And his jump shot is improving watching how Tyler Hansbrough puts it in. =)

Yay for Local Dives!

Maybe its because we're moving this summer. Maybe it's just because I like finding little hole in the wall places that I love. Maybe it's because from the time I was 6 months old until I 3 1/2, one of the main places my family ate was a little dive in San Diego, called El Indio. But whatever the reason, we finally tried this dive of a Mexican restaurant tonight, and loved it.

We've gone to the usual places since college, every now and then. But never like on a once a week basis. But for the last few months, I've been wanting to find what I would be able to call "the best Mexican place in town". To have our own, yummy Mexican place, where we know the staff, and we love the salsa, and it's our place. Well, we found it, and we love it. Have I said that, yet? The great thing is, is that it's a couple blocks from our house.

I didn't feel like making dinner tonight, and we hardly ever go out. But tonight I said to Randy as he was finishing up working out in the shed, "I really wish we could go to that Mexican place." And with the wonderful response that I was hoping for, we got cleaned up (Asher had yogurt in his hair from breakfast -yes, breakfast- had soaked his overalls with water that he had tried drinking from a nalgene all by himself, and dirt all over him from laying down in the mulch how River had done when she had fallen off the playground equipment) and went out!

We pulled up in less than 2 minutes, and proceeded to have a great Mexican meal, where we spoke Spanish (broken, mind you) with the waitresses, shared a Tecate, had delicious salsa, caught glimpses of a soccer game on ESPN (Randy's favorite sport, but we never get to see because we don't get "big cable"), ate yummy burritos, tacos, quesadillas, enchalidas, etc., and even got dessert chimis (cheesecake stuffed in a buttery sugared tortillas). It was very fun, and very reasonable. When we got home, River said in reference to the car trip, "That was short!" Which is all the more reason why, we'll definitely see you soon, San Luis.

Yay for local dives.

I've Been Tagged...

So, I've been tagged, by my friend Whitney and I'm supposed to share 7 strange things about myself. I don't know where to start, and I definitely don't know how I'll keep it to only 7. But here goes. You're gonna see how weird this girl really is.

1. I have to "sweep" out the sheets every night before I get in them. No, not with a broom, gross! With my hand, to make sure that all the grit is out, before I lay down. And then I have to brush my feet off, before I put them in, to make sure I'm not adding any grit to the "clean" sheets.

2. I have to pop my zits. I can never leave them, because if you don't get the stuff out, how can they heal?! It's like they're begging me to get all the nasty stuff out.

3. When I go back up to buffets I hold my stomach in so that people won't think that I've eaten too much already. (Now, I realize this is showing how deep my issues are, but oh well.)

4. I love to dance, but I only dance my heart out when no one's watching. But I wish I could dance like that all the time, because I'm way better when no one's watching.

5. I've had really bad handwriting my entire life. It's the only thing I used to get "Ns" in when I was in elementary school. So if I want it to look good, I have to take a long time, and make it really funky and curly. But, I'll do that just to hide what it really looks like. And yes, I'm a lefty.

6. I like the way cigarette smoke smells from a distance. Not too overpowering, and right in front of you, and never when I'm eating. But just having it kind of drift past me is nice.

7. I chew my ice cream. I know, I don't need to. But it just needs to be mushed up more.


So, there ya have it. Now, tag, you're it, Randy, Kari, Emily, Meredith, Carrie, and Diane!

The Price is Right

I start getting excited about the consignment sales at about the first of the year. It's always a long time to wait from the fall consignments in Aug. /Sept. till the spring/summer consignments in Feb. So, I start thinking about what my kids might need, you know, making a mental list. Or I think to myself, "Oh, I'll have to try to get one at the consignment sales." Well, maybe it was because I was busy, or because there's not a ton of extra cash right now, but this year, I showed much self control. I waited until the consignment sale was half-off prices day.

If you know how kids consignment sales work, you know that by Saturday (1/2 off day) things are pretty well picked over. They have gone through the "consigners preview sale" where all the people who have donated items to the sale get first pick at what is for sale. That's Thursday night. Then you have the first full open to the public day on Friday. So by the time Sat. roles around, the things that are still cute, are usually either chosen to not be half off, and the sellers usually want too much for it, or they're items from the early 90's.

But I decided I would take the risk, and just go and see. However, I did have both kids. And it was mid morning. At first, I didn't see very much. But then, I began looking a little closer. Then my 1 year old, began screaming, and therefore, I couldn't think very clearly, so I just grabbed what I liked, and didn't take the time to add. The longer I was there, the more I saw, and the more I wanted the great deals. Shirts for him, dresses for her. "$1 for these Polo shorts! Brand new Gap capris for only $2! You can never have too many T-shirts, and only .50 cents!" You get the picture.

Thinking that I was at about $50, I decided to check out. Not to mention the still screaming 1 year old. I had gone in with just my cash, because I "knew" that I wouldn't spend more than that. I asked the lady ringing me up where I was about 1/2 way through. When she said $46 I kind of freaked out, and then said, "I'll be right back. I have to get my check book."

So, yeah, my plan kind of backfired. I did get some good stuff, and the ball toy will keep my son happy for hours. (That's what all the screaming was about, btw. That he couldn't take out the ginormous inflatable ball toy, with all the the millions of plastic balls, and play with them.) But as much of a "self controlled" decision as I was hoping for. When the price is right, the deals win me over every time.

Baby, I'm Afraid You're A Lot Like Me

Four years ago, this evening, I sat with a tiny baby girl in my arms. I hadn't known it would be her, and I wasn't sure how to be a mommy. All I had known was that a baby was coming, and it would be mine to love.

After 24 hours of labor, I had a beautiful girl placed in my arms, and I had never seen such beauty. She looked up at me with such wide eyes and a silky dark hair, and I remember my first thought was that she resembled one of my baby pictures. There was a familiarity in her eyes, that I saw. After months of wondering what this unknown baby would look like, here she was in front of me, and all I could think, was that she reminded me of me.

Since that moment of first laying eyes on my daughter, I have grown to love her in so many ways. I love how she embraces life with passion and excitement. I love how she is zany and silly. I love the compassion she has for others, and the willingness to stick to something, even when it's so hard it makes her cry.

Even though I don't hold her on my chest the way I did that evening four years ago, I still sometimes lie close beside her, and look over her face, and wonder. I wonder how I will bless her, and how I will fail her. How I will show her love, how I will not. How will I be her mother, and but also her friend? How will I teach her to be a woman after the Lord's heart, and yet have the confidence to walk through her deepest doubts asking Him to show her the way? How can I teach her to be a woman of truth and courage, with strength and passion? How will I show her how to embrace joy and sorrow, and to love relentlessly? I do not know the answers to these questions. I only know that no matter what I do, or don't do, the Lord has chosen her to be my little girl, and me to be her mommy. And because of that I know that He will show me how.

I still see so much of myself in River. Sometimes because of that it makes it hard for me to be as gracious and patient with her. But I desperately want to. So much of the time, when I pray for her, I pray for myself. And vice versa. Because the same strengths I have, she has. And the same weaknesses I have, she has. It brings me joy, and it scares me to death. But I know that the Lord is big enough to love her through it all, just as He has me. I love the words of this Sara Groves song, because it's exactly how I feel when I think about River.

Baby, I'm afraid you're a lot like me.
You can't help feeling everything.
I can see you trying to hold it in.
I see your eyes, and your trembling chin.

And for you, and myself, I will pray.
That our weakness becomes our strength.

Baby there some holes you just can't fill.
You try and you try, but you never will.
Baby, I believe a God who can.
He loves the boy, and He'll love the man.

And for you and myself, I will pray.
That our weakness becomes our strength.

She brings me so much joy. I love her more than I ever knew I could. Happy Birthday, baby girl.

Happy Snow Day!

So instead of thinking, Happy Valentine's Day, the other morning, we were surprised with a snow day! I know it's been a couple of days already, but I'm just now getting around to documenting. It's a pretty big deal, seeing as it will probably be a year before we see any more of it. This was Asher's first exploration of snow, so it was very fun to introduce him to our "friend" (for all your Gilmore Girls fans).










meet Harry....

The Difference Is...

My grandmother sometimes references when she was a young mother. I love hearing her stories about what it was like, then, verses now. And many times I wish for a time like then, for a simpler time. But many times, I'm thankful.

The other night, I decided to make my mom's homemade "Old Fashion Chicken Pot Pie". It used to be my one of my favorites, especially on a cold day. But, I've never actually made it. Just the recipe is like a whole page long, so yes, it feels a bit intimidating.

Well, it was about 4:30, and the chicken was frozen - yes, a whole chicken. We don't have a microwave (out of choice) and so I don't usually defrost meat in a hurry. But, after a quick chat with my sister, I decided, it would take a little while, but it would be worth it. Need I remind you that it was 4:30.

At first, I was like, this doesn't take that much longer than the way I do it. I don't know why I always do the shortcut version. That was the first hour.

My husband got home at 6:15, and I told him we still had a little while before dinner. I didn't know we had another hour and a half.

So, my poor children were starving, but dag on it, we had our "Old Fashion Chicken Pot Pie" and I realized why my grandmother didn't have time to get on the floor and play with her children. And I also realized why my mom didn't make this recipe very often.

We ate at 8pm. Yes it was delicious, but after that, I think I'll stick to my quick and easy version.

But that's part of the problem. It makes me sad that we don't ever choose the longer, harder, more strenuous version of whatever it is, anymore. We have shortcuts for everything, and we use them - proudly. I'm the queen of wanting something done quick. I know that my grandmother sometimes gets a teary look in her eye when she talks about not spending time that she wished she had with her little ones, but after just trying something the old-fashioned way one evening, I can understand why. They wouldn't have been able to do anything!

I wish there was a way to meet in the middle. To value the quality, but to not always have to be in such an efficient mindset. To not cram so much into life that we miss what's really there. I know, sometimes even with all the shortcuts I use, life still feels overwhelming. I don't have to do my laundry by hand, I have a washer and dryer, but when I see the never-ending piles, I want to hide it all under my bed, and just go get new clothes. I hate laundry, and it never goes away.

Yesterday we had a surprise when we woke up. A gorgeous snow covered world to wake us up on Valentine's Day. And instead of looking at dread at this...


...I found myself smiling at this...



What's the difference? The difference is that I had loved every minute of playing out in the snow, and seeing all the clothes and shoes piled up simply reminded me of time well spent with my family. But yes, I am quite thankful for my washer and dryer.

It's the Little Things...

i have a new love affair.  it's with these adorable little magnets.  i can't seem to make enough.  they've made me very happy.   i like things to look pretty.   not perfect, not necessarily polished, but pretty.   my fridge has felt very pretty with her new accessories.  it's like she's got jewelry now.   shhh...don't tell her that they're not really just for her.     i'll give her these.

or maybe these...

but these would look much better in my sisters kitchen

which, when i made them, i was thinking of my sweet big sister, and so i decided that this set would be called Carrie.  that lent me to the thought that each set of magnets should be named after someone.  wouldn't you like them better if they each had names?  it makes me like them so much more!   but it's also harder to let them go.    ok, do you see how this is an affair.

so, now, let me introduce you to...

RIVER

she's spunky, fun, and very pretty.

And the Winner Is....

"Charmed"!   Congratulations!    Thank you each for all your sweet comments and encouragement about my giveaway.  It was so fun!    And check out my Etsy shop and receive 10% off your first purchase.   

You Know How I Love Give-Aways!

Welcome to the blog give away! This is such a fun game, so come on and play! You never know, YOU might even WIN!!! Definitely stop on by Rocks in My Dryer to check out all of the hundreds playing this game!

want to see what you could win here...



this fun, unique, and hang-up anywhere "Joy" sign!

i love making these signs, and then hang them anywhere to add a little life to an area. they're great on doors, or walls, or on windows - wherever!

all you need to do to be entered into the giveaway is to be live in the US, and then just is post a comment, and you're in the raffle! i'll name the winner on saturday, feb. 1st! good luck!

A New Phase

If you can't tell, I go through phases. Phases of blogging, phases of clothes, phases of baking, phases of designing and redesigning...phases. And in my phases, usually I don't like doing much out of that phase. If I'm organizing, I'm organizing for hours. If I'm designing or making things, I'm not making dinner that night, I'm usually just making whatever it is that is making my house a wreck, but by golly, I'll finish it. Even if it takes till 3 AM.

When I was dating, I was not like some people who dated for months and years. I might date someone for about 2 weeks, and then that'd be it. They'd start getting on my nerves, or being boring, whatever. I don't think I even make it longer than a month until I was in college, and then my record breaking relationship was 4 months. That is, until I was smitten with the love of my life. I actually was very surprised when after a few months, still wasn't tired of him! He still keeps me guessing, and still gives me butterflies in my stomach.

But when it comes to friends, I have no phase. I love my friends. Probably too much sometimes. I love being with them. I love hearing about parts of their days or weeks that I've missed out on. I love blessing them with little messages or surprising them with treats. I cry when they cry. And I absolutely hate not being able to be there for them.

My friends are the most wonderful people in the world. Have I mentioned that my friends will do anything for me? Even volunteer to be criminals and murderers? Not just anyone will do that.

I think that as long as I can remember, one of my greatest fears has been that I will not be chosen. Not chosen to be included. Not chosen to be a part of something. Not chosen. The Lord has given me such affirmation through them time and time again, that even though every now and then I can still feel the hint of insecurity, it is so overwhelmingly ridiculous because of the gift of friendship that I have been given through so many people. And knowing that I've been chosen by Christ - not only just accepted, but chosen. That means that He really wanted me, and even though He saw all of me, He still chose me.

All that said, it's very easy for me to choose my friends, but sometimes hard for me to choose Christ. Not in the big "choosing Christ as my life" way, but just in every day things. You know, to stop my life long enough to be quiet with Him. Because choosing Him, means looking at Him...in me. Allowing myself to become more fully acquainted with Him - in me. Why is that so scary? I know me, I know all about me. I love me. Did you see how many times I just said me? Why would looking in be so hard?

So, I'm praying for time with Jesus, alone, and not necessarily not with friends, but I sure do love looking at them, and not so much me. Christ in me, the hope of glory. That's good news! Not something scary. I know that He will shed light into the dark, and bring truth where needed, as I begin to become more of a friend, to Christ in me.

Do You Know Why I'm Blogging?

The same reason my sister decided to do her taxes the other day instead of cleaning her house. I mean, who does that? Who would rather do taxes? Apparently, she would. I'm blogging right now, because I am the biggest procrastinator known to mankind. I wish that I had something wonderful to blog about....some new story or revelation that would knock your socks off.

But no, I'm simply procrastinating putting away my Christmas stuff. Yes, shame, shame, shame. I still have my tree up, and my wreath, and the lights outside, yes, everything. I do not want to take it down. And yes, by now, I am getting tired of it. We passed my birthday, and my sisters birthday, and after that, it really should be out. But it's not, it's still sitting here, mocking me. Knowing that I haven't the slightest motivation to get it out. And it's not even the fun, feathered, wild tree that it was. I took all the fun things out, so now it's just a half decorated tree with bare spots all over it. But it is plugged in. There's something about having it up, that means that it has to plugged in.

So while I love decorating and having my house feel welcoming and perfect for whatever season we're in, instead of moving away from Christmas and on toward Valentine's day, or just back to normal, I'm stuck in the doldrums of leftover Christmas. And even doing laundry at 10pm feels more appealing than tackling the tearing down of the tree.

I think that if I analyzed it a bit more, I would definitely see how similar I can get in my walk with the Lord. I so many times can just get "used" to having Christ in my life that it's just that. He's there, and I love Him being there, but I'm not really challenging my faith, or seeking out little extra quiet moments with Him. I procrastinate about spending time with Him, knowing that I'll get to it, eventually. Instead of knowing how much I need that time, how I can't do anything apart from Him, how only in Him am I able to rest and find freedom for my soul. I see him so much of the time as an inconvenience that I don't have time for. Oh, how I wish my eyes could be opened to the desperation of my soul. My flesh is so easily tricked into thinking that I have it all together, when in truth, I'm barely holding on. If I could loosen my grip, and let Him have my day, my schedule, my life, that I try to juggle all on my own so often, how I would see His hands upholding it all. And I could rest, truly rest, in Him. Then rather than procrastinating about spending time with Him, I would run desperately into His arms, again and again. Knowing that in Him, is where I am found.

I'm going, I'm going....it's coming down tonight.

Happily Over After

My sweet daughter is almost 4, and there are only a few times a day I might hear her slip up in what she says, or the way she phrases something. But I love the mess ups so much that sometimes I don't correct her. I know she'll be mad later, when all the other kindergarteners are laughing, but we'll deal with that later. These have been my recent favorites.

"Mommy, I'm helping Daddy stir the pantake battery!"

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29....29, 26, 27.." (I'm not ready to get to 30 either, baby!)

"We can warm it up in the microphone."

When I remembered something in the store today, she said loudly, "You're fart Mommy!" - she can't say the sm together. So, I guess, I fart.

She told an elaborate story tonight with her Daddy, and the first thing he said was,
"There once was an old frog..." and she added on,

"Who was walking around, and stopped to pick up a sashew made out of wood and magic."

We had to stop the story for a minute, while I said, "A what, sweetie? A cashew?"

"NO, MOMMY! A Sashew!" I got it after a second, a statue. =)

The story ended brilliantly with, "And he lived happily over after!"

The Last Sip

As he came out with a full glass of eggnog, I looked at it longingly.

"Yummm....can I have a sip?" I asked hesitantly.

"Sure, have as much as you want. That's the last of it."

At this, my heart fell, and I knew it was really over. The end of a season, was here, and unfortunately, I had no choice but to slowly savor my last few sips of our wonderful farm fresh eggnog that my sister had blessed us with.

I say "blessed" because I wouldn't have purchased it on my own. No, I mainly shop at Aldi, which for the most part I love, as anyone will tell you. Even having to bag my own groceries doesn't deter me, simply because of how much I save. Earlier on in December, when I went for my major holiday shop, I bought 3 cartons of the eggnog, hoping to have it last through the season. However, as my husband, the true connoisseur, tasted it, he informed me that it was awful. Pasty and filmy. He said,

"I doctored it up a little with some nutmeg and cinnamon, and after that it's drinkable, but still not good."

Yeah, that's not the holiday experience I want with my eggnog.

Now, my sister loves Aldi even more than me. But she knows better than to try the eggnog. She knows the best place to buy any dairy goods is from her favorite family owned and operated Dairy Farm that she occasionally frequents, Mapleview Farms.

This eggnog was the best I have ever tasted in my life. So good that I couldn't believe she would give up a whole quart of it to us. Even if you had bought it for someone else, once you had tried it, you would secretly decide that you hadn't ever bought it for anyone but yourself. Because who would share something so delicious and wonderful as this? You might even have your own secret refrigerator that you keep another quart as a backup, that no one knows about but you.

But, she did share, and it was wonderful. Down to the last drop.

So, sadly, I very slowly enjoyed, and shared, the glass with my husband. I knew that it would be out of the stores since it's already a week after Christmas and I would not be able to get anymore, and thus would have to wait a whole year to have yummy eggnog again. And not just that, but this also meant that I had to get my Christmas tree taken down. And put up the stockings, and the wreath, and Oh, I'm not ready for it to be over yet!!! Epiphany isn't till this weekend, at least let me go till then!


And then I saw it. At Harris Teeter, I saw a whole fridge of on sale eggnog (BOGO). And even though it will pale in comparison to the Mapleview eggnog, it will give me the illusion that I have a few more days of this beautiful season.

To Make A Long Story Even Longer

Why is it that there's always a story to tell in my life. You could ask me a question about anything and there'd be a story. For example, you might say,

"How was your New Years?"

And my answer could be a short, "It was really good. Pretty low key, but fun."

or, depending on how much time you had, or if you're a friend that knows to ask a little bit more, you could hear...

"Well, we really didn't have any plans for New Yrs. But then some friends asked what we were doing on New Years, and for some reason, I translated it as, 'What are you doing on New Years day?" Not, 'What are you doing on New Years Eve?' So, I just planned to stay home with the kids during the day because Randy had decided to work.

And because Randy was working on New Years Eve, I went to a friends house and hung out with her and her kids while her husband was also at work...very fun new years eve.

Until I call Randy on my way home and realize that he's been home from outpatient eye surgery for a few hours. What??!! Yes. Eye Surgery. On New Years Eve. I mean, I knew he was going in for a check to see what the status was, but I didn't know they were going to strap him to the table right there and then. So, I'm feeling like a total screw up, especially after I hear how he drove himself with one good eye home, and then to get his prescription, and then back home.

I go pick up Randy, and run over to the store, because I had to get there before the weeks special changed, and let Ran stay in the car with the kids while they're sleeping. And while I'm in the store, I get a call from the friends who asked what we were doing on New Years. And they ask if we're going to a party that we've been invited to. Still thinking for some odd reason that they're talking about the following day, Jan. 1, I'm all, "Let me talk to Randy and see what he thinks, and we'll give you a call to let you know."

So we go home and make the dinner that we always make if we haven't planned anything, but we're all really hungry - breakfast dinner! Pancakes, hash browns, grits, eggs, etc. So we had a good dinner, put the kids to bed, clean up, watch a movie, watch the ball drop, you know, low key.

It wasn't until today, on New Years Day, that I'm still talking with Randy about whether or not we're going to the party that we were invited to for "tonight at 8:00". WHO THROWS A PARTY AT 8:00 on JAN 1st??? Why would I think that? Because my mind is always racing so much that sometimes, many times, it doesn't make sense. It makes sense to me. But that's where I get into trouble.

So, I actually call the couple, and as I'm leaving the message saying I think we're going to go to the party, I begin to realize that the party was the night before. WHILE I'M LEAVING THE MESSAGE.

So then, I call back, and let them know that if they'd still be interested in getting together, we'd love to have them over for a New Yrs. Day celebration.

Oh, me. I make myself laugh.

So I guess I'm the one who has the party at 8:00 on Jan. 1st. Actually it was 6, but hey, close enough.

A Family Tradition?

This year was the year of family traditions. I can be a little too legalistic about them sometimes, wanting to make something a tradition if you do it once and really like it. Saying that it should be a "tradition and do it every year". I think that some traditions are kind of hokey, and a little overdone, but then some are very fun. Now that our little girl is 3, it seems like we should be setting the traditions in place, being consistent from year to year, to make sure that we have them set. (see what i mean about the legalism?)

The first one we made was to get our Christmas tree on the first Friday of December. (Who knows if we'll really be able to keep that up)


Then, I got a gingerbread house that we decorated on Christmas Eve. We thought it would be fun to always do a Gingerbread house together - since none of us had ever done one before, and it was a fun family activity. You know, we could get better at it every year, and do more elaborate ones each year. I have these ridiculous visions of our kids being in their teens and twenties and still loving the Gingerbread house tradition. (yeah right)



Growing up, usually I got to open one present on Christmas Eve, so after taking a lengthy vote and trying to get the baby to nod his head in our favor, we decided to continue that tradition and all open one gift. He liked sitting on the present better, and tearing it open of course.


The regular things like stockings,


and birthday streamers and cake for Jesus on Christmas morning.

Watching Christmas movies and baking pies, reading Christmas stories, decorating, fun times opening presents on Christmas morning.

But you know, it gets to be a lot of stuff. Even the good stuff, gets to be a lot. And the more traditions you have, the more you do. And so, I think that what I want to make sure of, is being able to do fun things with our family, and if it's different every year, that's fine. I'd hate to be one of those people who make the family do the Gingerbread house every year, even though no one really wants to do it, but because it's "always" done, we have to do it. I'd much rather be flexible enough to just enjoy doing whatever it is that we all want to do.

My mom loved the beach...so much that many times we would go over the holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, you get the picture. So Christmas at the beach is really great to me. I was very excited because this year, my husbands family decided to be all together at the beach. Something I love about their family is that they play games. And not just like Go Fish. Real games like Capture the Flag, beach miniature golf, relays, horseshoes, ping pong, Pit, Balderdash, Bocce, etc. One game that they always do at Christmas time is the gag gift game. It was my daughters first time playing, and she definitely enjoyed it. But that's why it's fun to do traditions. Not because it's the same thing every year, but because you all get to partake in a fun, out of the ordinary thing. And it's never about winning with them, or the competition. We will sometimes even do silly things like create such outlandish games that you totally mess them up, and then laugh until your sides ache. From the youngest to the oldest, we all will play, and just enjoy being together. It's those types of traditions that really create memories, and end of being the kind of valuable experiences that make you love getting together with family. I love that my kids get to be a part of such a fun family. Hopefully, we'll pass that on to them.

Something About a Boy

Lately I've been thinking about my little boy, and how he's such a boy! I mean, I used to hate the phrase, "He's all boy!" Like, some boys aren't "all boy" and some are - I mean, if they're a boy, they're a boy; they might like music and art instead of sports and fishing, but they're still "all boy". But more recently I've come to understand a little more why people use that phrase when describing their boy. Here's a little bit about my boy.

He's always on the move!

He has taken quite well to terrorizing his older sister. She gives him just the reaction he's hoping for!

He doesn't just grab something. He grabs it, and usually throws it, or breaks it, or both. Ok, just for the record, I don't think River ever broke anything, and Asher breaks stuff all the time. Pulls it apart, bashes it on the floor, throws it across the room, etc.

He chases after what he wants with all his might.

He snuggles up close when he needs his down time.

He's happiest when he's eating.

He is a reckless explorer.

He's already almost stronger than me.

He doesn't give up easily...rather, he puts up quite a fight.

He's such a love! And he loves so much!

The other night, I was holding him before I laid him in his bed, and I had the thought that I wish he could stay my baby for longer than he is. Not that I don't want him to grow up, but just how fast it happens, sometimes, feels as if time is being taken from you. And all you can do is let it pass.

Tonight, as I was listening to one of my favorite Christmas songs (what other kind of music can you listen to the week before Christmas?!) about Mary and Joseph coming to know Jesus as their baby, but also as the Messiah, I listened again to the chorus I love so much.

"Have you cursed at the wind? Have you cried to the heavens? Have you fought with this mercy you don't understand?"

I think sometimes it's so easy to forget that as Mary and Joseph came to love this beautiful baby boy, and watch him grow and learn, and play and laugh, they also had to let go of him. And be willing to give Him over to the "death that would bring us new life." What an incredible hardship. To know your child, and to love them, and to know that He is God's Son, but to still know what he would have to go through. And for you, his parent. That his death would bring your life.

Knowing how much I love my own son, I appreciate so much more, the gift that was given to us at Christmas. From our Father, giving up his Son. And realizing how hard it must have been for Mary and Joseph. Knowing now, how much I love to hold my son, and how I cherish those moments of him being a sweet baby, and being so close to him, having him need me so much. I'm so thankful that Jesus was so willing to pay the price for us all. That he came knowing what lay ahead, and yet, he still chose to come.