Happy 26^th Birthday, Jenny!

Snow!!!

It snowed. Like real snow. Like three inches of it. Like more snow than Emry has seen in all three winters of her life. I must confess, I’m amazed. Despite old pictures, I was beginning to think Pittsburgh didn’t get snow except as a random inch now and then. I AM SOOOOO EXCITED!!!!!

And I’m not the only one. Yes, yes, yes. It is a hassle to get kids ready to play in the snow. The list of clothing goes on forever: extra socks, a pair of mittens (or two), snowpants, coat, hat, scarf, boots. Sometimes it takes more time to get them dressed and out the door than the amount of time they actually spend in the snow. But I was not about to let my kids miss this perhaps-once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity. Besides, Emry has been hoping and praying for snow for weeks! (Yes, yes, yes. So has her mama.)

So, we bundled up. First Emry. Then Ethan. Then me. That alone was a good morning exercise routine. Then we clomped outside, Emry adjusting her walk to her new boots, Ethan squirming even though the very thickness of everything he had on shouldn’t have allowed for that and me. SNOW!!!!!!

It wasn’t a sticky snow. So, no snowmen. And the only snowballs were formed from shoveling and broke apart once we picked them up. It wasn’t too cold. Right at freezing. So, for my kids who I take for walks in nearly all weather, it wasn’t a big deal. Obviously. Ethan was delighted when I put him down so he could squirm wherever he wished. (He managed quite well on the shoveled sidewalk – not so well in the actual snow. Three inches is right in his face as he wiggled about in his typical military-style crawl.) And Emry? Well, that wasn’t the only time she would bundle up and head outside that day. Before it was over, she went out three different times, plopping down in the middle of the snow and playing whatever her imagination conjured up.

I have kids after my own heart. We all LOVE SNOW!!!!!

Here we are!

 

Emry and Ethan.

Ethan enjoying his time outside.

Emry hunting for snowballs.

And one more snow delight – snow ice cream!

Christmas Tradition #1:The Great Christmas Tree Debate

I feel sorry for my husband. Very sorry for him. Until he married me, he never once had a live Christmas tree. Never! Poor guy grew up with little artificial ones. And that was in the 70s and 80s. Yes, you can all feel sorry for him.

I always had a live tree. I don’t where we got them when I was really young. In Tennessee, we’d go to Mack and Elinor’s and cut one down. Later we got them various places: tree farms, Boy Scouts, nurseries. But until I left home in 2009, I never had a fake tree. That year, I put up my grandfather’s little fake tree. That was quite sufficient since I was going home for Christmas anyhow. 2010 was one of two years I didn’t have a tree where I lived. Haley and I both were headed home for the holidays, so we didn’t bother. The next year, though, Haley’s parents were coming to Texas so a tree was required. We ventured up in to the attic where we found one of the two fake trees stored up there as well as a box full of lights. I think most of the lights were half-working, but we made do and strung it up with red and white lights so you could plug in solely red, solely white or both. Haley had ornaments, I had three or four I had never taken home to pack away with my others and the tree was so nice we put it up again the next year. The following year I was in Minnesota where I borrowed some lights and ribbon from camp to decorate a window in my apartment. Since I blank out after about a half-hour of decorating and decorated a couple of trees at camp, I had my fill and it was enough.

The next year I was married and in Pittsburgh. Christmas arrived and the discussion began: real or fake? That year I think Ed thought real was such a novelty, he easily agreed to my side. The next year he took a bit more convincing, but since it was Emry’s first Christmas he agreed to another real tree. Last year, he took quite a bit of convincing and, to be honest, I looked at fake trees. After all, his argument is quite true and hits where I’m most vulnerable: in the long run a fake tree is more cost-effective. In a matter of years, it pays for itself and saves tons of money. However, I wasn’t quite ready and so we got another real tree.

This year our dilemma wasn’t so much real vs. fake as where in the world we even had room to put a tree. Wherever we put it, it would have to be small. We looked at fake trees, but we got stuck on the question of do we purchase a small tree when, in the hopefully near future, we would like a place where we could purchase the tree we really want. So, in essence, purchasing two fake trees. I think he saw I couldn’t get over that and came home saying he saw signs for a tree farm in Freedom where you could pick out your tree, they’d cut it and off you’d go. So, on Thursday, we bundled up the kids, grabbed a blanket and straps to put the tree on top of the Pilot and off we went.

Now, first of all, Ed does not read signs like I do. I read anything and everything. Ed might read the speed limit. So when we got to the sign pointing to the tree farm, he finally read what it said, shook his head and said “Cut a tree? We’re not cutting any trees!” For a few minutes, I didn’t say anything. We drove down the winding, somewhat dirt road to the farm in order to turn around and come back. He said one or two more things about cutting trees until I finally said, “What did you think a tree farm was? They grow the trees so, of course, you cut them down.” He glanced at me and replied, “How would I know that? I never had a real tree until I married you.”

Now I know Ed and I grew up in very different ways, but that was the first time I realized how those childhoods were different in rather odd ways. Like something as simple as a Christmas tree.

As I said in a previous post, some traditions just come to be. This, apparently, is one of them. For next year, I’m sure we’ll have the same discussion yet again…

10 Months!!!

Today Ethan is ten months old. Ten WHOLE months!!!! It’s hard to believe that we are gaining on one year so quickly!

Although he remains tiny at 27 inches long and somewhere around 16 pounds, he grows everyday by leaps and bounds. Probably because he’s trying to keep up with Emry. If she does it, he’s making an attempt at it, too. Short of walking by himself, he’s just about there.

This month his accomplishments are huge: pulling himself up to his feet on furniture, the bathtub, his crib and just about anything else he can grab. Climbing steps – so far at least four at a time. He’s trying to win gold in speed crawling, still military style. He likes to “talk”, play with anything his sister is playing with and eat (just about anything but mostly peanut butter and jelly). He walks when you hold his hands, laughing happily as he “chases” Emry. It seems as if I can’t turn my head for five seconds before he’s into, onto or trying to get something. He’s one busy little boy!

Yes, I can stand!

Peek-a-boo!

Sock Monkey, I’m 10 months old!

Traditions

I was raised in a family with lots of traditions. That part of our blood comes from my dad’s side of the family. The Catholic side. Because to Catholics tradition is everything. It’s more than the Bible. It’s more than the Pope. I think it’s even more than Mary…and that’s saying a lot.

That said, I find myself loathe to simply ditch traditions and somehow just let Christmas evolve. Although I would have to say that many of the traditions my family holds did just that: evolve. I’m pretty sure my parents never sat down and said the tree must be put up when Navy plays Army. Or gingerbread cookies must be made the day after Thanksgiving. Or only certain cookies must be made – no more and no less. Even though we are now all adults, we still seem to hold to “tradition”, even such “traditions” that have only been around for nine years (as long as they’ve lived in Indiana). Like where to put the tree now that Mom has placed a china cabinet in that location. There may be a mutiny if she decides to place it somewhere else…even though only my sister Sally actually lives at home and the rest of us simply return for the holiday.

So, the truth is, many of what may become my family’s traditions will likely evolve over the years. After all, Emry is only two and Ethan a mere ten months next week. They don’t know a tradition from a hole in the wall. And yet…I’ve been given traditions a lot of thought.

Maybe it’s because of a book I just finished reading. I picked it up because the title looked interesting: Christmas a Biography by Judith Flanders. If you haven’t read it, don’t bother. I can summarize quite simply. After many rabbit trails and chapters that didn’t seem to stay on topic, her conclusion is this: Christmas comes from everything and nothing. It certainly isn’t religious and those who try to make it so are idiots. But don’t commercialize it either for that’s just being greedy. All that said, Christmas means nothing, stands for nothing and is nothing. Bah! Humbug!

Now I’m not going to argue that Christmas is all about Christ’s birth versus it being a pagan holiday Christians turned around and made their own. Nor am I going to argue over putting up trees, giving gifts or singing Silent Night versus Jingle Bells. But we are going to celebrate the traditional Christmas of Christians in history past. We are going to celebrate Christ’s birth, the Gift God gave to us so we could be saved. Because if we do not stop one day a year to do so, our human nature will take over and we’re likely to never stop and celebrate. Which is wrong. Because, sadly, I need to be reminded to stop and contemplate the amazing Gift of God’s Son. And to take time almost every day as we count down on Emry’s paper chain, bake cookies, read Christmas stories, play with the Little People nativity and sing carols to tell my children of the wonderful Gift of God’s Son.

So, tradition #1: Celebrate Christmas.

I’ll think of #2 later…