Another Year is Gone

2020 was bleak…and 2021 has been bleaker. As it closes today and rolls into 2022 in only a few short hours, I can’t say I have high hopes for another year. Grocery shopping is getting more and more painful, not to mention the idea of providing clothes and other things for my family. It’s pretty certain any pay increase is not going to catch up to the inflation…if Ed even has a job next year. Vaccine mandates aren’t making that look very promising. As if the media wasn’t a bunch of ridiculous liars to start with, the fact that they can’t do anything but re-hash the continual lies is crazy. Aren’t they driving themselves insane? We have a demented President, a deluded Vice President, and a bunch of other politicians who do anything except their jobs. Any hopes I have for 2022 only make me cry. They probably won’t happen. I should just be glad if we make it through each day.

 

I should also remind myself that 2021 did have some high points. At the very least, I hardly ever wear a mask anymore, suffocating on my own germs. We all got Covid and got that out of the way, only Ed and I actually having any sickness at all. The kids were all asymptomatic. We travelled over the summer which was nice. The kids are doing well, despite the world they live in. We have a roof over our heads, no matter how small this house gets with each passing month. Ed does still have a job, and so do I. Our needs are met and the Lord does allow us to save some, car repairs and other surprise expenses aside. We really are blessed no matter how weary the world around us is.

 

I also reached beyond my reading goal this year. I aimed low, one book per each letter in the alphabet. I exceeded that by reading two per letter except the letter Y. I just couldn’t find a second title on that one I wanted to read. I also read at least 20 more books, including some on my own shelves. It’s also been fun revisiting some books this year I’ve read aloud to the kids: Little House on the Prairieand The Magician’s Nephew.Both kids love Narnia.

 

I have to say I am glad 2021 is over. I can’t say I’m excited about 2022. However, it does make John’s cry in Revelation all the more sincere: “Even so, come, Lord Jesus!”

Christmas!

Ellyson is one of those kids who lovesto get her picture taken…except when she doesn’t. And when she doesn’t, there is no way under the sun you are going to make her sit there and be a part of the picture. So, I apologize in advance for the lack of nice Christmas pics. Ellyson wasn’t having any of it!

 

In a lot of ways, our Christmas started the weekend before Christmas. My sister Abby threw my sister Jenny a “surprise” 30^thbirthday party on Saturday. The surprise part was the arrival of our sister Katey and her boys from New Hampshire. Our sister Sally, currently in Florida for Naval training, flew in Saturday and met the rest of us at Abby’s apartment. We all went to dinner and had a really good time:

 

Five of the six of us: Sally, me, Katey, Abby and Jenny.

 

Emry, meanwhile, was at her dance team Christmas party. Then she joined all her cousins, my parents and Ethan at one of the local play areas. Ed and Elly joined them all for dinner. I think my parents were exhausted. I only got one panicked call that night, so it was 95% successful.

 

So, we all convened at my parents’ following church the next day: six of the eight of all, one spouse, and all six grandkids. We had a Christmas dinner, some gift opening, and tried to get pictures of all six of the grandkids. Ellyson did a bit better for this photo op following the drama of the morning’s:

 

The best of a dozen from the morning…

 

And the best of the afternoon with cousins Jay, Curtis and Benito.

 

Thankfully the week before Christmas was quiet. No events, some school, a lot of anticipation and prepping. Christmas Eve was spent at my parents’. Sally was still in town and Caleb had arrived for a couple of days. We opened a gift each that evening, and took a ton of gifts home for the morning. I confess they all had melatonin before bed to help them sleep. Still, when Ellyson woke as usual about 4 in the morning, Emry was awake and lamented, “Mama, this night is soooo long!”

 

Still, they didn’t awake until 8 to cause mass chaos in our living room. Paper and gifts flew everywhere. I’m still not 100% of who gave them every gift they received. Ellyson was worn out by gift #3. And quite content with her Baby Shark for the bathtub and Emry’s baby doll. (Yes, Emry’s. We’ll let her use her Christmas money for one of her own!) Our trip out to my parents’ was delayed with all the rain and flooding on their property, so we went out later to enjoy leftovers. Not exactly the epitome of the day, but I don’t think the kids even noticed. 

Ethan and one of his gifts.

 

Emry and Ellyson opening a gift.

One Night Last Week...

At the end of the day, you can only speak from your own experience. Covid was nothing. I had it. It was like a flu. The only weird thing was the lost of my smell and taste. It took weeks to come back, and I’m still not sure I’ll ever have it back 100%. I’m glad I had it. The anticipation of contracting it is over, and since it’s highly unlikely that one can get it again….I’m good!

 

But food poisoning? Well, I honestly thought I was going to die.

 

Monday night last week at about ten o’clock as I was finishing up some work project, I started to feel a little off. I figured I was tired. Ellyson had been waking up multiple times at night and even a nap that day didn’t seem to help a lot. So, I got ready for bed, read a little bit, and fell asleep. 

 

About 2 o’clock, I woke up feeling sick to my stomach. I lay there and rubbed it, feeling a bit better. I heard Ed pull into the driveway…followed by a very loud bang. Had he forgot to open the garage door? Had I left a bike or something in his path? Had he gone too far and crashed into our stored washer and dryer? None of that seemed right because he’s usually careful backing into that tight space…and I was too sick to really care. Then Ellyson woke up.

 

I knew whatever had happened, Ed would be angry and wouldn’t want to deal with Ellyson so I got out of bed. He came in and told me he had hit the passenger side mirror, knocking it off except for the wire it hung by. Still not well enough to care, I wandered into the girls’ room, looked down at Ellyson in her crib, and felt the whole room start to spin. I thought I could make it to the couch, called for Ed, and promptly blacked out.

 

The next thing I knew, I woke up to Ed shouting my name and shaking me. I couldn’t figure out why he was waking me up from the best sleep I had had probably since conceiving Ellyson. As I came to, I realized I was lying on the floor in our tiny hall (basically a space for four doorways and a closet to converge), my whole body aching and shaking, and figured out I must have fainted. Ethan came out of his room and the only thing I knew was that the pajamas he was wearing were not the pajamas he had gone to bed in. The conversation went something like this:

 

“He’s wet his bed,” I told Ed.

 

“Melissa, are you okay? Are you hurt? What is wrong with you?” Ed still slightly shouting.

 

“I’m fine. I’m cold. I’m fine. You have to change his sheets. He wet his bed.”

 

“What?”

 

I finally convinced Ed I was fine on the floor and couldn’t move that moment anyhow, so he needed to go help Ethan change his sheets. I’m pretty sure Ed thought I was nuts, but since I was apparently alive, he did as he was told. When he came back, I was ready to be moved. But no further than the couch where I curled up and asked for two heavy fleece blankets. I was still sick to my stomach and chills wracked my body, but I wasn’t feverish. Trying to figure out what could be wrong, I finally settled on food poisoning. The soup only I had eaten for lunch must have been slightly off. And with my taste still not fully recovered from Covid, I simply hadn’t noticed. It was the only explanation I had.

 

Assured that I wasn’t going to die right that very moment, Ed went about his usual routine of getting ready for bed. I shivered away on the couch, rubbed my belly, and dozed a little. When he came out of the shower, he asked if I wanted another blanket. I told him I wanted to go to bed. He’s one of those people that radiates heat, and I needed to be warm. So after helping me to the bathroom, he helped me to bed.

 

I can’t say I slept well. Ellyson woke one more time and cried herself back to sleep. I tossed and turned, feeling sick and cold. I did doze off, though, and awoke again at 4:30. I knew I had to get to the bathroom, but I also knew there was no way I could do it alone. I lay there and went through all my options for nearly ten minutes before I finally just woke Ed up for help. Good thing, too. I made it two steps to the foot of the bed before I collapsed, the room spinning into darkness again. Then I promptly threw up everything I had in my stomach. And finally felt much better!

 

I tried to help, but poor Ed had to clean up the floor. I threw everything in the washer, took a shower, and we both went back to bed. I awoke the next morning feeling much better although weak, tired, and extremely sore. I hardly ate all day, and we did school on the couch. I don’t bruise easy, so all I had in the way of wounds is some scratches on my face. But I couldn’t touch the left side of my face, arm or leg. That whole side of my body felt bruised and battered, and did for days. I had headaches for the next week, mostly because my shoulders and collar bone hurt so much. Ed said the way he found me laying up against the bin the closet, twisted up in an odd way he was surprised I didn’t break my neck. The best he could determine, I must have hit the half-opened folding closet door in such a way, it must have hit the wall and allowed me to bounce into all the coats and slide down. I’m grateful for I could have hit any doorways or walls, not to mention simply landed on our fake-wood-laid-on-concrete-with-no-padding floors. Ed’s grateful I didn’t look like someone whose husband beats her up.

 

As for the car, we’re still waiting on the parts to fix that. I guess that could have been worse, too. All I know is, I feel like we’ve barely survived 2021. I would say here’s hoping 2022 is better, but as painful as grocery shopping is these days…yeah, not betting on that!

Visions of Christmas Past: Cookies

I have been making Christmas cookies since…well, I don’t remember a time when I didn’t make Christmas cookies. It seems that Christmas cookies are a Sturm thing. I don’t recall them being prevalent at Ogilvie get-togethers. Pie always seemed to be the thing. (Chess pie mostly…I never could figure out who liked chess pie!) But on the Sturm side, everyone made cookies! Grandma Sturm even shipped cookies in our box of Christmas gifts. You just had to be careful to select the pecan Sandies and not the anise Wedding Cake balls. I’m pretty sure we all made that mistake at some point!

 

Eventually Christmas cookie baking officially started the day after Thanksgiving with gingerbread cookies. This was always an elaborate bakeoff, ending in Grace’s “Walmart wreath”, a cookie stacked two inches tall with icing, and my assembly line style. Oh – and either Katey or Jenny had to spill half the silver balls all over the place. Over the rest of the month, out came dozens and dozens of Sandies, surprise cookies, Spritz, fudge, peanut butter balls, coconut balls, white almond bark pretzels and lemon snowflakes. I do mean dozens.For it’s hard to make only one batch when three people want to make Spritz. And while in New Hampshire we had our pastor’s kids over to dip pretzels, so we had to make what felt like hundreds (plus a really good mess). Good thing we hosted a Christmas party every year! Now with us all gone, some of those cookies have fallen by the wayside. However, because Sandies, pretzels, and Spritz are three my mom still makes, I don’t make them. Even though I really should make Spritz. Emry at least can probably work the cookie press now.

 

As a single woman, I still made Christmas cookies…and took them to work. I certainly didn’t need them at home! Our first Christmas I attempted one of Ed’s favorites: clothespin cookies. I haven’t made them again…they take too long! Then came Emry and I thought she should be introduced to things like gingerbread cookies. I think that lasted all of two Christmases before I gave up. I hate to decorate. And I hate helping my kids decorate even more.

 

But I lovegingerbread. So, a few years ago I found the solution: gingerbread crinkle cookies. They’re easy to make. The kids can roll them into balls and into the sugar. And, this year, they became Ethan’s favorite. We also make one other things I didn’t grow up with: Reese cup cookies. The kids love making those. I love thumbprint cookies, but I never got around to it this year. (But since I bought the jam, I’m thinking of making them at Valentine’s.) I also like to try one new one every year. This year I tried two: homemade Samoas and an almond cookie. They were okay. The Samoas were a huge hit at Bible study, but I’m not sure I’ll recycle them. 

 

I do know this, though: I need a bigger kitchen. As you can see, it’s a bit tight for four of us:

 

Emry, Ethan and Ellyson making Christmas cookies!

Vision of Christmas Past: Lights

I’m sure for Emry’s first Christmas I was more conscious of including her in a multitude of things. Of course I knew she would remember none of them. I also knew she couldn’t do very much at eight months of age. It doesn’t mean we didn’t try…and, naturally, took lots of pictures. Like this one: 

Emry and the Christmas lights – 2015

 

She loved the lights. If I recall correctly, she wandered over to them as I was making sure they worked and just started playing. Knowing her personality today, of course she did. They shimmered! Shimmery Emry.

 

Two years later, along came Ethan. He played with the lights a lot longer than Emry did, probably for an entirely different reason than they shimmered. Electricity. Power. I haven’t met a member of the male species that isn’t attracted by it.

Ethan and the Christmas lights – 2017

 

Last year we didn’t let Ellyson play with the Christmas lights. She was only six months old and had just started sitting up on her own. So this year we made sure when we brought out the lights we had her pause in her play for a photo op. It didn’t go at all like we thought it would. For unlike her siblings before her, she had no interest whatsoever in the Christmas lights. No amount of coaxing or over-acting fun on our part helped. This was as good as it got:

 

Ellyson and the Christmas lights - 2021

My Fifth Sister: Jenny

For some reason, Jenny’s birth is memorable to me. Maybe because it was around Christmas. I was eleven coming up to twelve and Katey was nine. Ever crafty, Katey was in the midst of creating more and more stuff as her abilities grew. Ever trying to be crafty and keep up with Katey, I also created…even though I had just discovered that writing stories was waymore interesting than paper, glitter, markers, and attempting to draw when I have no ability to do so. Every the good mother, mom tried to be supportive in our interests. She never did figure out the writing thing I became so passionate about, but crafts were easy enough. That year she had purchased us some kind of garland stuff we had never seen before or since. We got it in sparkly blue. Honestly, we never did figure out exactly how it was supposed to be used (Pinterest had yet to be invented…), but we did figure out it made great hair bows! And so that is how we spent the morning of Jenny’s birth, proudly making all our sisters sparkling blue hair bows to wear on our visit to the hospital. I think we even made Jenny one.

 

Maybe that’s why Jenny also grew up to be artistic. More likely it’s because she’s Katey’s twin nine years removed. Really. Reddish hair, pale complexion, Ogilvie nose. She even chose the exact some outfit combos from the hand-me-downs Katey had worn five or six years previously. (That was a little frightening. Today Jenny is a “fashionista”, so don’t tell her how awful a few of those combos were…) She would grow to love music, try a million creative things, and be very passionately loyal to her friends. All very similar to Katey.

 

Of course, Jenny is her own person. She’s the first one who would tell you that, too. She has her own interests, does things her own way, makes her own choices. In that way, I suppose she’s just another Sturm sister. She can sew beautifully. (I have nearly two bins full of sizes 3 and 4 dresses/outfits that are waiting for Ellyson to grow into.) She also thrives in her piano playing.  Now that she is thirty, she is taking up a new hobby: cake decorating. I’m sure she’ll excel at that, too.

 

For, yes, she is thirty. I don’t think she is overly excited about it. Abby had all kinds of ideas on how to celebrate, but settled with a rather calm night out with all the sisters. (Since she will turn 30 in less than two years, she had to be cautious about pay-back.) But I think she had a good celebration. And I hope she discovers that being 30 is pretty great. Way better than the 20s…and so much younger than the 40s…

 

Happy Birthday, Jenny!

Jenny - 1992

Visions of Christmas Past: The Train

The first Christmas we were married, I got Ed a Lionel train. I’ve always liked the idea of a train chugging around the Christmas tree.  Ed has fond memories of trains when he was very small and his parents were still married. His dad had several small trains set up in their basement. Not 100% sure of what I was looking for and certainly not having extra cash on hand to get into a hobby as expensive as trains, I did learn about gages and found the perfect locomotive to run around our tree each Christmas for a decent price: the Pennsylvania Flyer.

 

Ed is meticulous about this train. He takes better care of it each year as he takes it from the box, sets it up, and later safely packs it away again than he would ever take care of me. But he does like to share it with the kids. They just can’t touch it without first listening to a very serious speech about taking care of it followed by a promise they will not touch it unless he is playing with them. They are not yet at the age where they roll their eyes at all this, so they merely half listen to the speech as they anxiously wait to be handed the controls.

 

Emry was 8 months old her first Christmas, but she was sitting up and easily figured out how to turn the nob for movement and press the buttons for sounds. Usually careful with things, she never messed with it beyond what she was allowed. 

Emry driving the train: 2015.

 

Now Ethan was 10 months old his first Christmas and “careful” was not a word in his vocabulary. It took longer to teach him not to simply grab the train if he felt like it. On the other hand, he is of the male species. The train goes fast, makes noises, and has a remote: a win any way you look at it. He has always loved playing with the train.

 

Ethan driving the train: 2017.

 

Now comes Ellyson. A mere 6 months last year on her first Christmas, I don’t remember her showing any interest in the train then, but this year….she loves it! Of course, she’s game to try anything one of her siblings are doing. She’s also the one who shows the most expression: delight at things that make her happy and despair when something doesn’t go her way. We have a great video of her watching the train with Ed, Emry and Ethan; squealing and laughing with excitement. She, too, likes to send it zooming around the track!

Ellyson driving the train: 2021.

Visions of Christmas Past: Dresses

I think I have done a post on Christmas dresses once. Or maybe it was Easter dresses. In our family, both times of year were fun to pick out patterns and material. And many of the dresses were very memorable for one reason or another. The dresses I am blogging about now have been in the family for 29 years.’

 

My mom’s sister was married a couple of weeks before Christmas in 1992. So, she had a Christmas wedding. For her flower girls (two of my sisters and two of my cousins), she chose a green and red plaid. My mom wasn’t sure that was a very good choice until she saw the fabric sent to her so she could sew the dresses. It was perfect, and they did make very nice dresses.

 

Aunt Lynn’s wedding 1992: I am in the red dress, holding Jenny. From left to right is my cousin Rachel, cousin Harris, sister Katey, cousin Ashton, cousin Adam, sister Grace, cousin Tyler, brother Daniel, and sister Sally.

 

Twenty-nine years later, at least two of the dresses my sister’s had are in my possession. They went through my sisters, were passed over to Aunt Lynn’s little girl Sara Ann, and then came back to us. And since I am the only one with girls…well, we are now enjoying them!

 Emry, age 2, in one of the dresses.

 

Ellyson now in the smaller dress.

 

They are still beautiful Christmas dresses.

As the Parade Passes By

When I was a kid attending Homecoming and Christmas parades in Lewisburg, Tennessee; I wanted to grow up and become a cheerleader in high school. Then I could ride on the fire truck. Needless to say, that is one of my many childhood goals I did not fulfill.

 

The only opportunity I had to be in a parade was in New Hampshire with my softball team. But whatever parade that was, it fell when I had to be back in school. I was sorely disappointed, as you are so often as a kid.

 

I knew when I enrolled Emry in B-boppers last year that marching in the Christmas parade was something they did. But all things being Covid last year, I can’t remember if there even was a Christmas parade. (Heaven forbid we should all somehow give Santa Covid!) I was okay with that. Less commitment in what had been a wild year with government induced panic and Ellyson’s birth. This year, though, the Christmas parade was on! And Emry was quite psyched about marching in it.

 

First she had a routine to learn. Like all routines, her dance instructor records it and posts it so I can download it to my laptop and Emry can practice. The first night I had her practice the parade routine, she wasn’t sure she could unless I marched (backwards) in front of her with the laptop in hand. I convinced her to at least try it by starting in the kitchen doorway and dancing towards the hall doorway. She always has the laptop in my swivel chair, so I would turn it as she marched. This worked, and she took on turning it herself as she danced past.  

 

The day of the parade was not as bitterly cold as I had thought it might be, thankfully. Dressed in layers (her team jacket is not that thick!), she was ready to go and we managed to get her to her post without totaling getting turned around. Now the rest of us getting back downtown to park…well, that was not quite as easy to accomplish. Still, we managed and found my parents and nephew to settle in and watch. 

 

It was a really good parade, and having it at night so everything is lit up makes sense. Ethan enjoyed it (and, of course, the candy). Ellyson wanted to join in. She danced to the music and tried to walk out into the parade more than once. Emry was near the end, so we had to wait quite a while before her dance troupe made their way to us. We shouted her name and she did hear us but as is typical of Emry, she was very focused on her routine and getting it right.

 

After she marched past, I made my way to the end of the parade to get her. She had fun, although (because she is six), she kept asking about candy. We made it back to the route in time to see the Purdue marching band and Santa, neither of which was handing out candy. But parades being parades, we found quite a few pieces of candy on our way back to our car. Content with that, she had a great time. And I think she’s ready to do it again next year!

Studio B - Emry is the one on the left front in pink boots.

 

Ethan watching the parade.

 

Ellyson had one of the best seats in the house…except she wanted to be in the parade!