Lets begin again...

My goal was to clean my car tonight. There is a lot of debris that will no doubtedly carry over in my life from 2010 to 2011 but somehow I couldn't face my filthy car being part of it. It didn't happen. Instead I made myself nachos which I am following with the contents of my much-loved, almost-empty box of Candy Cane Joe Joes. Little girls are tucked snugly in their beds, dressed in variations of flannel pajamas, noise machines blasting - hoping to drown out the midnight fireworks. I might run out to the porch to watch them. I might be in my bed. Either way I am delighted to spend another New Years Eve like this - at home, super lame and completely relaxed.

Here's to new things to come - milestones and accomplishments, prayers answered and hopes fulfilled. And here's to the old stuff that still works year after year after year.

Happy New Year.

"We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all of our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." T.S. Eliot

Let's Celebrate...

...the pictures that will never make the Christmas card cut...

I hope the real you - wherever you are, however messy your mess is - experiences real joy and peace tomorrow. (I hope it for the New Year too, but we're taking things one day at a time over here...)

Merry Christmas.

The Most Anticipated of All Days...remembered...

This sweet girl is four. And with her birthday came the threat of snow...which I hoped against. (We had big plans.)
Yet, by noon, this was our view.

Fortunately, fearing the worst...we met Judah, Lydia, and Leah at Chick Fil A at 8:45 am for an impromtu this-may-be-the-only-party-we-have-if-it-actually-snows celebration. Good thing.

But when we took out the rugs and let her ride her new bike inside the day was not lost...

And of course we had another celebration later that afternoon when I convinced her to save the cake for her big party.

Amazingly, she was quite content with all of these arrangements.

And Foo loved the birthday presents! Especially the new Princess vanity...

And we decided to give Christmas pajamas early...special snow day treat...

And then right before bed Sophia even got special surprise Birthday visitors who sang again!

After all of this hoopla, she probably didn't even need a party. But we had had the Big Event postponed to the next day at Inflation Nation ("A Party Anywhere Else Would Be Flat.")

The usual sophisticated crowd was there...

And I think the day(s) lived up to the 364 days of waiting.
Now we just need to rest a little...before Christmas...

Oh and about that cake...

We are staying in today. Christmas is coming ready or not and I am grateful for no school and no schedule before the celebrations begin. So...the following few posts will be catch up from last week's birthday and other December events...


First...the Princess Cake! I'm probably not going to start a Cake Decorating Blog, but as I slapped the icing on (again) Friday morning, Sophia said, "It's so beautiful Mommy." And the doll hadn't even been stuck in yet...

Apparently there is frosting and there is decorator's icing. I did not know this. And guess which one I used...Yep, my favorite Paula Deen frosting recipe. Very delicious but also very prone to slide off the cake. Someone assured me that it seemed very Disney - the dress evaporating before our eyes. I'm not sure what Disney movie that is but I'll go with it.

See the back? I kept putting more frosting on until the last minute but I wasn't quite fast enough...

Oh a daughter's love. Maybe it should have been Cinderella...after the stepsisters rip her dress to shreds...

This labor of love was well worth the adventure! I loved making it for her. And who really likes to eat that Decorating icing anyways? Tastes like toothpaste...right?

Uncle Peter!

Uncle Peter, Celebrity Uncle and He Who Defines Coolness to Small Nieces, is recovering from surgery today...Here are our (attempts at) well wishes...

We hope you have a speedy recovery! Enjoy the room service from Buela!

Stage Mom, Stage Sister

Last night we attended Sophia's Preschool Christmas Program. Sophia and her class sang three prepared numbers, complete with choreography and lots of red Christmas clothes. It was wonderful. Foo struggled. She wanted to be up there. Really bad. I believe the quote was, " I want to sing! Where is the microphone?" So as Sophia is rocking out to "Go Tell it on the Mountain," guess who is sitting on the floor, stage left, practically on the teacher's lap, simulataneously singing the song, doing the motions, mouthing "Smile Bigger Sweetie!" and physically restraining Olivia from climbing onstage? Yes, Stage Mom came out. She's been in there waiting to compensate for every bit part I ever got (pretty much every part I got). And I have to say I am comforted that the stage is not a scary place to either of our children. The bigger the audience the better around here...

All around us

Snow is falling outside again. Have you ever noticed that every children's Christmas book unfolds against a backdrop of snow? Until this week I had just come to assume that each of these books took place in St. Paul, Minnesota. I don't know when and why Christmas and snow got so entangled but occasionally it does feel nice to fulfill Hallmark Card Expectations. We've had a whirlwind two days of snow and birthday goodness with much to share. But just tonight I was taking inventory of the moments this week that could well be considered Christmas miracles in my little life.

1. Stroller Saved.
We met Aunt Lindsey and Cousins Addie and Carter at the Childrens Museum of Richmond a few weeks ago. And I left my stroller. Who leaves their stroller places? It's like kids who forget their backpacks at school. And I actually left it on the curb about a block down from the museum. I didn't realize it was missing until 5 days later when I looked in my trunk and then mentally retraced my steps. Uh-oh. I can just envision the scene. Strap girls in, hand snacks, load bags, get in car, drive away. It was another 5 days before I took the time to call the museum on the off-chance that someone pushed my stroller a whole block back to the museum for the Lost and Found. And apparently someone did (and pushing the Baby Trend Sit n' Stand is not fun - I do not recommend it for you Baby Registers out there...). And not only that, the museum still had it - they didn't donate it when the crazy person who left it apparently didn't miss it for over a week. And Mr. Roy is holding onto my stroller for another week until I can make it to Richmond to retrieve it. Festivus Miracle? Definitely.

2. Carolers.
Real ones. Not a group I had convinced. Not school children. Not high schoolers working on Key Club hours. Real grown up carolers showed up outside our door Thursday night. And I was overcome. And they were standing there all bundled up against a backdrop of snowy sludge and it was my own Falalalala Lifetime moment. They said they were law students who had just finished their finals and wanted to come out and do this. WHAT?! I'm familiar with what people are usually doing when they finish their finals...we find their debris in our front yard in the morning. But this group came caroling. It was such a stark contrast to the news on TV at the moment...their sweet voices drowned out the descriptions of a world full of disasters and people with very dark hearts. I would have followed them anywhere. Instead I showered them with all the baked goods I could find and thanked them profusely.

3. Neighbors
We went with some neighbors to a Christmas concert last week and tonight we were at our other neighbors for a party. And when I say "neighbor" I mean we literally share a yard. Both of these families have an up close view of the recycling bin on my side porch(and can tell by the overflow that I missed pick-up this week). Really knowing people who live next to you is comforting and natural.But...I admit, we should come with Neighbor Warning Signs: We will need to borrow butter and salt and maybe your car. We will give you a key to our house because its safer with you than with us. There is often screaming in the driveway because our small children have trouble transitioning from the house to the car and vice versa. And occasionally we have large groups of people over which require us to move all of our furniture into our driveway. Please note that this was not Nina's idea and do not be alarmed. It will all be moved back before the night is over. It can't be denied that it takes a village for our family to carry on and and this week I've been struck with what a great one we've been blessed with right on our street...

So there's a piece of my own Heathrow Airport musings. The festive feelings around here have been so strong that I haven't yet needed my favorite Christmas movies to create seasonal mood. But hopefully I'll get to some of them this week because surely they couldn't hurt...

Four

Sophia finally turned four today. We had a lovely snow day regardless of tears due to her postponed party (hers and mine.) I removed the rugs and she did circles with her brand new Princess bike in the living room all afternoon. The emotions I feel over this girl being four are intermingled with exhaustion from pre-birthday prep. I think I was more disappointed then she was over today's change in plans. Tonight she threw her arms around my neck and said "Oh Thank you Mommy...for my new pajamas." Sweet girl, how you continue to blow my mind and rearrange my life...in all the ways I really need it. And with the doll cake chilling (and hopefully miraculously improving) in the fridge, I'm off to bed. Sophia Birthday Four, The Sequel is tomorrow.

Me, The Cake, and Mrs. Hatcher

With Sophia's fourth birthday days away, I am focusing in on a single project. Our halls are decked, cards have been mailed, gifts have been bought - all earlier than usual so that I would have the emotional space needed...to create this:

Picture taken from Christine's Recipes Christine makes these cakes regularly! I wonder where she lives...

Except the cake will be a Sleeping Beauty version (a change from her earlier "Ariel Cake" request). And honestly, my goal is something near the shape of this (apparently Pampered Chef makes a special pan), the decorating will be something only a daughter could love. I don't have much confidence. And apparently I'm not alone:

Me: So I'm going to make that doll cake for Sophia's birthday - you know the one where the cake is the dress and you stick the barbie on top...

Mom: (beat) Oh Nina. Why don't you ask Joyce to do it for you?

This is my mother's response whenever I announce some sort of domestic/semi-crafty motherhood endeavor. Mrs. Hatcher - the Joyce of whom my mother speaks - can do anything.

I believe she made me a poodle skirt in first grade, a "Mulan" costume in 12th grade, and countless school play ensembles in between. She can cook anything, sew anything, construct anything...and she's good at math. She navigated Erin and myself through cities over the phone, "guided" us through dozens of science projects, and did emergency alterations on my wedding dress - two days before the wedding. My favorite though, was my phone call to her last year with one desperate question: "Mrs. Hatcher, Travis is making his own advent wreath for the service - what color are the candles?" She knew.

But, no, I will not bother Mrs. Hatcher with this project, not this time. I must pass this Self-Inflicted Motherhood Initiation on my own. We'll see how it goes. Even if it means an emergency run to the Harris Teeter bakery - and Sophia submitting her own request to Birdneck Point next year...

The Grandest Yet...

This weekend Travis was out of town and we were hosting a holiday open house on Sunday during Grand Illumination - about twenty minutes after he was due to return. So Saturday, my work lay ahead of me - dozens and dozens and dozens of cookies to bake, food to cook, and my house to clean in such away that it would look like civilized people lived there - a weighty endeavor indeed. Until a Festivus Miracle occurred with the arrival of The Connecticut Krops. In town for a wedding, their presence turned a day I was dreading into such a great time. And, as always they were a HUGE help.

Note: Mike pumping air into the tires of my stroller.

Kristen put on an apron and started to bake. This sweet friend has been bailing me out of crises ever since we were bunking beds on the third floor of Dupont Hall.

Mike and I frosted cookies. I depended on his architect eye to create an aesthetic I was not capable of. I was still frosting Gingerbread People at midnight while it was softly snowing outside. It was a beautiful Christmas-y moment - marred only by what my Gingerbread actually looked like. I quit after doing only six. I figured I couldn't convince people that Olivia had been able to frost more than that.

Sunday night turned out to be wonderful. Many fabulous friends stopped by - including Rudolph.

We were so excited to have people in our little home.

And the fireworks were breathtaking. Some though, were not so enthralled...

And others really,

really,

really enjoyed them.

We were thrilled that Grandma and Grandpa joined us for their first Grand Illumination!

This is, quite possibly, the most celebrated night in this city. And its one of our favorites.
Sharing it with so many people we love could have made this year the best yet...

Wish Me Luck...

I'll be baking all day for an event tomorrow. Baking is not my natural gifting (unlike creating one-dimensional paper manger scenes) but I am excited about the challenge and very grateful for my assistant(s)!

Keep Singing

(for Jessie...and Tara, because today they both asked...)

Photo courtesy of Sophia: Elmo, Ernie and Bert asleep in her closet. Bert was clearly not consulted on this change of scenery. And Elmo and Ernie are practicing for a Christmas Cantata.

Singing "O Come all Ye Faithful" puts this big lump in my throat. Every year, every time I sing it, the same wave of regret washes over me. It is about this time that I remember: This was supposed to be the year. I was going to extend my arms to the poor and complain less, and be triumphant and joyful and never ever doubt. I was going to radiate love and peace and be the Proverbs 31 woman wearing purple and weaving my enterprising loom late into the night. I was at least going to learn to be nice. But I didn't. Nope. Not even close. Even as I write I'm kind of fuming over the college student who left her car in front of my sidewalk for the past six days and hasn't bothered to introduce herself. (Because I was never a student who snuck my car onto residential streets at night and ran for my life - in this same town, two blocks over. Obviously).

I learned to tell the right story years ago and but I am always tempted with believing the wrong one. The one with halos and pristine clothing, Mary's hair freshly straightened and cherubs and gentle, sleeping oxen. The manger scene that's by invitation only, based on excellent behavior, or at least wanting to behave. My Christmas Theology is being held captive by a Renaissance painting. And I think the only place I really could be welcome is in Sophia's rendition below:

( Which I have to confess, I contributed quite a bit too. In fact, she only colored and glued. Another reason I must never homeschool.)

My friend, Kate, once had a professor who said "more than anything she wished she could smell history. The smells would add incredible perspective." So here's my new strategy: When I start shutting down in the first line of this most beautiful Christmas hymn, I'm going to be imagining what it smelled like in that stable - before and after all the "prestigious guests" arrived. And maybe then I'll feel that there is room to squeeze one more in. Even if my year didn't seem to accomplish all I had planned, and even though I'm probably silly enough to think next year still could.

The power is in the Story's ludicrous details. Grace is woven through every inch of the poverty and scandal and invisibility and odor. Our crazy Yankee Candle Burning traditions, though lovely, make it so pretty and well-scented. And then its down the slippery slope to becoming like every tale we tell - a story about what we have done and we will do, or haven't done or can't do. And we get stuck on the first line and miss the song entirely. Imagine the smells. Hear His invitation. And keep singing. The song isn't actually about us. (Thank God.)

...Word of the Father; Now in flesh appearing.

O Come Let us Adore Him

O Come Let us Adore Him

O Come Let us Adore Him

Christ the Lord.

Hip-Hip-Hooray! The SuperReaders Saved the Day...

While coloring yesterday, Sophia wrote the word P-I-G. Besides names of everyone she loves, its the first word she has written. And I did not show her how. She told me she learned from this PBS show: I was immediately torn between parental pride and parental guilt. My child can write! My child learned to write sitting inactive in front of the TV! But I do really like this show. We love to sing the theme song and the dance with the characters at the beginning and end. And, most importantly, they have an episode dedicated to the story of Juan Bobo. All these years and I thought Juan Bobo was just a Puerto Rican Family Myth. One day I turn on the TV and a huge part of my cultural heritage suddenly felt more legitimate... Moral of the Story?

PBS Kids - educational, inspirational, life changing.

Foo FlashBack (Way Back)

Christie sent me this picture today as she continues to go through her archives. I had never seen it before and am thrilled because I now have exactly one picture from each of my pregancies. Christie writes "I remember you coming to this party and just sitting on Tara's bed and eating a giant bag of popcorn." I vaguely remember the party - no idea who it was for. But I really remember that popcorn. It was good.

If you are pregnant or ever plan on being pregnant: Take a few pictures of yourself over the months. I read somewhere that I should and would regret it if I didn't. I still didn't and do regret it. Thanks for being my personal historian Christie and for sending this to me instead of posting it for the world. (So, I could post it for the world, obviously.)