Year in review

Everywhere I look there are lists.  I love lists but these kind of make me feel tired.  They are year in review lists and decade in review lists:  best movies, music, TV shows, books of the year (or the decade).  I have heard podcasts and radio broadcasts and seen blogposts and newspaper articles that talk about these kinds of lists.

Self reflect!

What did you learn?!?

What do you have to show for yourself?

I'm tired.

2019 sort of wiped me out.  It has been a hard year.  There have been health challenges for people I love and plain old hard things and exciting changes.  Turns out even exciting changes can be exhausting and stressful.  We've all sort of been finding our way in various aspects of life.

Adam has surfaced as the MVP.  (That's probably true every year but it feels especially true this year.)

When we were in Nevada, Robert told me that he and Adam had talked at length about me teaching. Robert told me about the compliments Adam had given when talking about me as a teacher (although Adam hasn't ever been there when I'm teaching).

Robert is certifiably one of the best men I know and he told me that Adam "is so much better than I am."  He said that even though Adam didn't say it, clearly he had sacrificed some of his own interests for me.  I told Robert some of the things Adam regularly does to help me.  For example, on Saturdays Adam insists he will clean the kitchen and do the more mundane tasks.  He always says, "I'll do this.  You work on the things only you can do."

It's not just that though.

Adam has taken up the charge taking care of Mark's diabetic supplies.  He places orders and helps Mark change his monitor and pump infusion sight.  I'm so grateful to have less to have to think about.

Adam also grounds me with doses of reality and perspective.  He chides me for being unreasonable and inventing motives for people.  I appreciate that he won't let me get away with nonsense.

I know I have a lot to be grateful for.  I'm looking forward to hanging a fresh calendar on the wall.

I'm ready.

Frivolity

I was counting on Olivia to write a blog post so I could steal a picture from her (if one turned out OK of me, which I doubt).

I didn't take any pictures, but we went to Nevada for two parties.

Sunday night, at 5:00 PM, we had the ladies' brunch (you read that right).  It was the time that worked for everyone.

Emma and I decided it was more of a high tea.

It was wonderful, like always.  Olivia knows how to throw a party.  The table was festively set and the food was delicious.  We went around the table talking about what we'd remember or had learned from the past year and what we hoped for in the future.  Like always, the women on the end of the table where the women sit cried a little and the daughters on the other end of the table looked on in a bit of mystification.  Clarissa has married since the last brunch and she joined the criers this year so perhaps there is a connection?

We talked over a few plans for the upcoming (this summer, but we're planners) 50th wedding anniversary party we are planning for our parents.  I definitely think it's going to be a situation of too many chiefs but the chiefs all love each other so we'll be fine.

Then we played after the manner of the adverb because we always do and it's fun.

We had a nice evening visiting and then spent time with my parents the next morning visiting too.  At lunchtime we had another party, this time at Marianne's.  Desi had marshaled the troops around there and had made us food from Hong Kong.  I am not a huge (or even a little) fan of Chinese food but this was really good.  Maybe because I love the cooks.  We had a white elephant gift exchange which involved a certain amount of treachery but also a lot of laughing.  Hyrum had a Make America Great Again hat that he brought as a gift that he really wanted me to have because I apparently wear my distaste on my sleeve.  I did end up with it but I gave it to my mom.  We brought some of our gifts home but "accidentally" left some of them at Marianne's.

Oops.

We drove home in the cold winter evening, listening to a good podcast across the Salt Flats.

I love living close to my family.

I love a list

I'm a serial list maker.  Yesterday I wrote a good long to do list--and then read a lot.  Since that didn't go so well, I'll make a list here of happenings around here after our first day of lollidays (the happy time between Christmas and New Year's Day when you loll around the house).

1- I made a big list of how productive I was going to be.

2- I finished my book.

3- I repeated myself in this post.

4- I was 200 steps shy of 10,000 steps (Adam got me a fitbit for Christmas--I asked for one, this isn't   a Pelaton situation).  Running up and down stairs to get stuff for Emma ups my step count!

5- Adam and I ran a few errands (we bought wrapping paper and gift tags and groceries).  Trader Joe's didn't have satsumas and it broke my heart a little.  We always had satsumas at Christmas time in Washington and it's hard to find them here.

6- We were close to my school and Adam asked if I wanted to stop by and do some things.  I said no.  There are things to do, but not during the lollidays.

7- I cleaned up all the Christmas gifts/boxes/ribbons from the main floor (I still need to tackle the wrapping station in the basement).

8- I made bread pudding with some leftover sourdough bread.  Then I remembered none of our kids like bread pudding.  But I do.

9- I tried to get Emma to eat.  I quizzed her about anything that would sound good.  Applesauce, that's all.  We got her out of the house and took a drive in downtown PG to see the lights.

10- I saw on the library marquee that they are having a used book sale and I decided to go today and check it out for my classroom.  I haven't been to the PG library for over 5 years.  It was very small and anemic and I took it personally.  Maybe it's time to give it another chance.

11- We went to Kneader's for dinner and I bought a red Christmas decoration because it was 50% off and red is my love language.  Emma ate half a sandwich.

12- I loved hearing Emma and Mark laugh in the backseat while we drove around.  Sometimes I think those two have their own language.

13- We had a nice evening out and then Emma threw up when we got home.

14- It's going to take awhile until she's back to normal, but she is slowly improving.

15- I made a plan for a long overdue phone conversation with Janet.  I smiled when I woke up this morning and remembered I had that to look forward to.

Disney wisdom

We had a lovely day yesterday.  We started opening presents later than we've ever started.  With older kids and one of them moving slowly, I happily read a few chapters of my book before everyone woke up.  We all enjoyed our presents and felt loved.  We Facetimed with Geri and Braeden and Anna.  I got to talk to my parents and Marianne--didn't ever connect with Olivia, though we left several messages for each other.  We'll talk today.

We played a new game we got as a gift from the Jorgensens and it was a lot of fun (I lost abysmally).  Mark built a new Lego set (I don't care how old that kid gets, I'm never not going to give him Legos.  He loves them.)  Emma took a four hour nap and Stella called to check on "our girl."  She is in a very slow and steady climb.  She's a little better every day but not as "better" as she'd like to be.  It will take time.  Stella assured me that is to be expected.

With Braeden married and spending Christmas with Anna's family, it feels different than when he wasn't here for Christmas because of his mission.  He's grown.  For some reason that feels unexpected when everything about life (including my own life) should have been preparing me for this.

I realized that my parents have spent more Christmases with me wishing them a Merry Christmas over the phone than they spent with me home for Christmas.  Christmases with our children at home all just felt like it would last forever, but if I'd looked around, I would have noticed that's not reality.

Maybe I didn't want to notice.

Last night we watched Noelle on Disney+.  I was in the mood for something Christmasy but something I hadn't seen a million times.  We liked the movie.  I particularly keep thinking about one quote from it:

Traditions change. Right? The new ones are scary. But they might be great. And if you know what Christmas means to you, the tradition is just the wrapping. 

I do know what Christmas means to me.  I'll keep rolling with evolving traditions.

Merry Christmas!

Adam and I have a tradition of going shopping on Christmas Eve for a gift for me (what's not to love about that?).  The stores are usually pretty empty and everything is really low key.

My favorite part is a little midday date with Adam.

This year we took a festive picture reflected in one of the enormous ornaments on the enormous tree at the Traverse Outlet Mall.  Adam wondered where they stored all their enormous Christmas decorations.  I suggested maybe they were inflatable.

Christmas is a little upside down around here and definitely feels different than usual.

It also feels nice.  We are together and have a lot to be thankful for and we know it.

I hope your Christmas is nice too, whether or not it's what you were expecting.  For unto us a Child is born, a Son is given.  And His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.

Life with Emma

Adam gave us the Christmas bear last night.  Braeden and Anna were staying here before their early morning flight to Virginia for Christmas so it was a good time.

Adam said it felt kind of anticlimactic and maybe, but considering the days we've had, I think we rallied some pretty impressive festivity.

Emma said we should name her Penny since she is the penultimate bear.

And I say Penny it is because this year, Emma is the boss of everything as far as I am concerned.

This morning Emma and I were considering the bear and decided maybe we'd name her Penny Candy.  When Mark was homeschooled, I read him a book about economics titled Whatever Happened to Penny Candy?  Emma asked me about it, "What did happen to her?"

She thought it was a murder mystery and Penny Candy was a person.

Meet Penny Candy:

This morning I found her wrapped up warm for the night:

In some ways, sick Emma has reverted to little girl Emma.  After she showers, she lets me braid her hair.  I'm really not very good at it but she doesn't mind.  (And actually little girl Emma never really liked me to do anything with her hair so maybe this isn't like little girl Emma after all.)

I told Marianne that just how we used to offer Blues Clues to cranky toddlers, Emma has been watching Wizards of Waverly Place on Disney+.  She used to love it when she was little and it still makes her smile and distracts her from pain.

I brought home an extra gingerbread house that I gave my students for an activity on the last day of school before Christmas break.  There were stickers to decorate it with.  I showed Emma and asked her if she wanted a craft project.  She smiled--all the way to her eyes, which is nice to see.

And she got right to work.

We entertained ourselves with a Christmas card we got in the mail.  We had no idea who the people were:

We made up a backstory for each of them.  We decided which extracurricular activities the kids were in and which of them were rebellious or sort of bratty and who was the nice one.  We described the parents for each other.  Then I googled them and Greg Hughes is running for governor I guess.

He may just get my vote because of the interesting backstory we created for all of them.

It's nice to have Emma around.

A thrill of hope

I think I about have the weariness nailed.  It's Sunday morning and instead of singing in the choir as part of the Christmas program today, I am sitting in a hospital room.

Emma has had a hard time.  Her pancreatitis really threw her for a loop.  There was a dramatic scene of confrontation with the surgeon which I will have to relate when I have more energy.  My frustration level was at a high peak on top of my worry and exhaustion.  I did the sensible thing and called Stella.  She's hands down my favorite doctor.  She loves us for one thing.  For another thing, she explains medicine to me in English.  For another thing, she exudes the kind of confidence a frightened mother can get behind.

She gave me the right questions to ask and we've checked in with each other a few times and she's given me a lot of encouragement.

We met with the surgeon this morning (it wasn't confrontational at all) and if Emma can tolerate solid food today, we can go home!

This morning I've been thinking about Christmas.

Yesterday I was startled when I saw the date because I had kind of forgotten about Christmas.  Also, last night when I got in my car and the radio was playing Christmas music, I turned it off because it felt jarring.

I had visions of this time being warm and cozy with candles lit and good foods baking and all of us leisurely enjoying the season.

Every night when I have gone home to sleep, our house feels cold and dark and not all that cheery.

It's eye opening.  Because for plenty of people, Christmas isn't all that cheery.

We have not been grocery shopping and probably have some sour milk and limp vegetables in the fridge but I'm not sure.  Besides a ham I bought at Costco, I don't even have any of the stuff to make all our traditional Christmas food.  Emma is on a really restricted diet for a week or so anyway.  For 46 years I've been in this bubble of Christmas = cheer and now I feel like a Who down in Whoville after the Grinch came.

And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!

"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store." 

"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"

I've realized Christmas is the kindness of nurses we interact with.  Christmas is the loving texts and phone calls and prayers on our behalf.  Christmas is the sweet gifts and notes I got from my students last Friday (one made me cry a lot).

Christmas is remembering that even though things are different and decidedly less festive, Christ came for us.  He came for our discouragement and disappointments and mistakes and shortcomings.  The very first Christmas wasn't beribboned with Bing Crosby crooning in the background.  It's OK to have a pared down Christmas.

What I want for Christmas is to be home with my people and to have Emma cracking wise and making clever plays on words.  Maybe even singing.

That's all I need.

(I mean, I'll still open my gifts...)

Grateful Friday

Emma's surgery was a success.  The last two days have been incredibly long literally and metaphorically, but I know I have a lot to be grateful for.

I'm grateful for modern medicine.

I'm (you don't even know!) grateful she is home from France.

I'm grateful for the power of prayer and priesthood blessings.

I'm grateful for the sustaining power of the Atonement of Jesus Christ because sometimes I feel like I can't even and then I can.

I'm grateful for kind nurses who persist in kindness even when Emma is kind of grouchy (she's been in a lot pain).  I felt humbled when I overheard several conversations in the hall amongst the nurses about who was working on Christmas Day.  One happily said, "I don't have to come in until the afternoon so I'll have Christmas morning!"

I'm grateful we got a great surgeon.  He was not charming but all the nurses told us how lucky we were because he was the best.  One said, "Intimidating, but the best."

I'm grateful for a kind principal who texted me to do whatever I needed to do and not worry about it.  I'm grateful for my third grade team who sent me encouragement and promises that they had everything in hand.  I'm grateful for whoever substituted my class yesterday.  I know it wasn't easy.

While Adam tag teams the hospital scene, I'm going to go into school this morning.  I need to give my kiddos their gifts and hold up my end of the Christmas festivities. With my principal's blessing, I'm going to be a mom the rest of the day.  Emma may or may not get to come home today, depending on her lab results.

Those gallstones did a number on that girl.

I'm grateful for the support that reached over the phone when I talked to my parents and sisters.  I'm grateful for all of my families' texts and the gifs and memes from my brothers (mostly Ron Swanson related).

It all added up to feeling loved.

I'm grateful for my boys who love their sister and would do anything for her.  I'm grateful for the love we all feel from sweet Anna.  She is small in stature but large in heart.

I'm grateful for Adam.  He is a pillar of strength and generous with his insistence I go home and sleep while he takes the night shift.  I felt like a big wimp and a deserter but I was also dizzy and freezing cold and shaky and had a very sore throat.  We both knew I needed sleep and he made it happen.  He is who you want in any crisis.

I'm grateful for the Christmas season.  It is good timing for Emma and me to both have a break for her to convalesce and me to take care of her.  It is also good timing to stop and reflect on how grateful I am for Jesus Christ who sustains us all.

At least the timing is good

It's after she got home from France but before our insurance deductible resets for the new year.

(Hurray for diabetes and the met deductible!)

Emma had serious abdominal pain last night, so bad that I took her to urgent care.  They sent us to the ER.  She was found to have gall stones causing problems, blocking a bile duct and hurting her liver.

So here we are.

Adam took the overnight shift and sent me home to kind of, but not really, sleep.  As soon as the security alarm was deactivated, I went to the school and laid out my hastily written (after 1:00 AM so here's hoping they make sense) sub plans.  Then I came to the hospital and sent Adam home to sleep. We are awaiting the doctor and she will more than likely have surgery.  I thought it was for sure but the nurse said maybe.

So here we are.

Emma is in a morphine haze and feeling not great, but OK.  Mark, full of hospital empathy, wanted to stay the night with her and slept poorly because he was worried.  Braeden and Anna are checking in and praying and sending love.

We've got this!

I'm so glad my girl isn't in France!

No words

One of my students asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.

I said a teacher.  He looked surprised and said, "Oh, right!"

He went back to his seat then came later to my desk.  "What about a hacker?" he asked.

I wasn't sure if he meant for me or for him.  I said, "Well, I don't know that much about computers, but I wouldn't want to be a hacker because it isn't honest."

He said, "Well, I think I'm going to have my uncle teach me some things.  He's always hacking things like DVDs."

***

Someone is always sick.  I count myself lucky if they cover their mouths when they cough and sneeze.  (I almost always have a sore throat and stuffy head but I have managed to keep from getting really sick which is something of a miracle.)

A student commented on how they felt sick and one of the boys said, "I had a sore throat yesterday, but I decided to take it like a man."

***

There is a fourth grader who inexplicably is bonded to me.  He wasn't at the school last year so I can't point to that as when he got to know me.  Maybe he just sees a mom in a sea of young teachers and gravitates toward me.  He often stops by my classroom for a chat or says hello or hugs me if we meet in the hall.

Yesterday, I passed his class on their way somewhere and he leaned conspiratorially out of line and whispered to me, "Twelve days 'til Christmas!"

Then he was gone and I didn't have a chance to break the good news to him that Christmas is actually sooner than that.

I had little time to process anything because a few students down the line was a boy that I did interact with quite a bit last year.  He said to me, "Mrs. Davis!  Your hair looks amazing!"

It didn't, but still.  It kind of put a spring in my step.

***

I forgot to take the Christmas book I wanted to read my class so I grabbed one from the school library.  It was Merry Christmas Strega Nona.  I hadn't read it but I do like Tomie de Paula and Strega Nona.

Every day I've been telling my class, "Now this is my favorite Christmas story."

And the same boy says, "You say that every day."

It's like an unfunny comedy routine we do.  Yesterday I said, "This is not one of my favorites because I haven't read it."

My comedy partner started to say something but then stopped himself.  I had messed up our act.

I read the story and it was pretty good, but nothing too spectacular.  One of my sweet girls who has a very tender heart, sighed at the end when Big Anthony surprised Strega Nona with a Christmas feast and said, "I love that!"

She had real tears in her eyes.

Pikkujoulu

I flat out refused to say the prayer.  Desi looked at me a little shocked and I said to Adam, "No.  Because I'll cry."

Why can't that guy give me a break?

He had Mark, who has ice water in his veins, say the prayer.

It was a lovely and festive time.

In the afternoon, the kids and I finally decorated the big tree.  Did I get a picture of everyone in front of the tree like I wanted to?  No.  I didn't.

I did take a picture of the table though, because setting the table is my favorite part.

rosemary sprigs in the napkin rings--they delighted me

We had our traditional feast of clam chowder in bread bowls and fruit and cheese.

Emma was ready and willing to pose for pictures:

I wanted to take one of Emma and Mark together.

I said, "OK, now I want a nice one."

Emma was slightly offended. "I was looking nice."

Mark said, "I wasn't."

(By the way, I deemed no pjs for pj--pikkujoulu.  So Mark wore his uniform, a white t shirt and sweatpants.  So basically pajamas.)

Then he smiled for the camera.

Braeden took a picture of Adam and me and we look sort of goofy but we also were laughing.

Adam is my favorite and no one makes me laugh like he does, although our kids are pretty expert at it.  He got that apron before any of our kids were born when he worked for the Animal Science department at BYU.  It's an institution around here.

We read Christmas stories (and I pulled out my new reading glasses because that's the world I live in now).  I had Mark read the story that would make me cry.

We exchanged gifts with Braeden and Anna, who will be in Virginia for Christmas, and we gave the kids their ornaments.

Adam did his Christmas reading from the Bible and Book of Mormon which is as much an institution as that apron.  He usually reads it on Christmas Eve but I requested it last night too.  Maybe he can do both.

Here's what I love:  Christmas and traditions and my people.

Always something

Yesterday at church a woman in my ward who is also a teacher asked, "Thelma, how are you doing?  Are you hanging in there?  Things are so crazy!"

We chatted about the amped up kids and how it takes so much more energy to just keep a lid on things.  We wished each other luck for the coming week.  Survival is the main goal and some learning happening would be nice too.

Here's hoping.

I do a lot of different things as a teacher that aren't strictly educating.  I administer bandaids and listen to stories and tie shoes and give snacks and remind kids about things.

Apparently I also bust up crime rings.

Last week, something that had been simmering for awhile finally came to the surface.  I knew that a lot of them had been pilfering the individually wrapped hand wipes that we get twice a week when the kitchen delivers snacks to the classroom.

I also knew that a lot of my paper clips had been disappearing.

Then, a lot of the students were busy making crafts:  snowflakes, cut out animals, paper airplanes.  One of the little dears took a piece off the computer cart to fashion into a sundial type craft he was making.

It had to stop.

Turns out, the wipes were the currency.  They used them as money to buy paper clips and erasers (that they were also stealing from me) and the paper crafts that were being made.

I had them turn in all the wipes.

I was not prepared.

They pulled handfuls of wipes out of their desks.  One girl had an empty Kleenex box full of them.  They piled them on my desk.

This is not even all of them!

Most of them felt remorse.  One girl promised to give me paper clips as a Christmas present.  They explained that it had been fun.  I acknowledged that but I said there was a time and place for making all the crafts and it wasn't during school time.  I asked them if it would be OK if their parents played X Box at work all day.  They were horrified and said, "No!  They'd get fired!"

I said, "But it's fun."

Understanding donned on their little faces.

Jamie, the instructional coach, came up with a plan that we're working on.  We're going to have a class store where they can sell things for fake money they earn from doing things in the classroom.  They have to come by their inventory honestly and not steal it (for example, they can buy supplies from me).  We've had two "business meetings" with the class so far during lunchtime and she has created charts with rules.  The kids are super excited and I think it will be really great.

What I have no idea about is how to fit it into our already jam packed days.  I'll do my best to make it work.  If for no other reason to dissuade them from lives of crime....


(One of my super straight-laced students was absent the day of the sting operation.  He's the boy with a spotless desk and always combed hair and never a missing assignment and his mom came in for some work for him because he was bored while he was sick.  That kind of kid.  The day he came back to school, he brought me about 30 packages of wipes.  All he said was, "I heard about yesterday.")

Grateful Friday

Emma is home!  I hugged her like I hadn't hugged her for months.  We both cried.  I love that girl.

She and Adam got home late (for me) Wednesday night.  After awhile I said, "I've got to go to bed.  I'm tired."

Emma said, "Are you, Mom?  Let's talk about that."

She had been awake over 24 hours.  She had to wait up to see Mark though.  He finally got home from work and she met him in the garage.  It was good to see those two together.  (But then I went to bed.)

Here's a picture they took after I went to sleep and Emma was making an I can't believe I'm still awake right now expression.

We celebrated Mark's birthday last night.

After school I made a cake.  We had to borrow an egg from the Porters and we didn't have any milk but we weirdly had cream so I made the frosting out of that.

We have a serious lack of basic staples around here.  When my mom started working full time she'd buy extra of everything because she was too busy to know what she had and we'd tease her about it but now I understand.

Emma sat me down at the piano to sing Silver Bells in harmony with her.  She sang while she got ready for the party.

I have missed her voice!

I'm glad we got to prolong our Mark celebration.  (We had a great time together on his birthday.  Ford vs. Ferrari was a good movie and he loved it.  Partway through the movie, he put his arm around me and kissed the side of my head and whispered, "Thank you for this!")

As you can see, Mark dressed up last night for the occasion--in his pajamas.

We had Christmas crackers at dinner so hence the crown.  Mark and Anna both got wooden tops in their crackers so they were seeing whose top was superior.

My heart was happy to have these kids all together under one roof.  Adam asked me to say our blessing before dinner and of course I cried.

Because Mark's outfit wasn't quite complete, he tied his new Seahawks sweatshirt, which was one of his gifts, around his neck.  He always wants a chocolate cake and he prefers a 9 X 13 to a layered cake which is something I can get behind because it is easier.  I crushed up peppermint candies for the top so you can see the remnants of that on the counter as well as the ever present scale.  We weigh and measure and calculate carbs and do more math than we have done since high school.

 He looked like a sailor.  And I don't know what he was doing while we were singing to him.  I only got one kind of kid...a little weird.

I am looking forward to Christmas break.  Not just because I will be home from work (that is part of it but also I know I'll miss my students) but mostly because I'll be around my people.  And my kitchen.  I'll stock the fridge and try to make sense of the pantry which is a hot mess.  Emma and I have a line up of cheesy movies we love to laugh at.  I want to soak up time time time with these people that I love.

The bears

They are usually the first box opened and every year the kids pull them out of the box and gleefully talk about when we got each bear and which bear they like the most.

The kids usually end up with a pile of bears on top of them.

This year, I was the only one home one evening and I pulled them out of the box.  It felt kind of depressing.  But then it wasn't.  Because I love these bears.  They are more than just pretty faces.  They are memories.

I remember (mostly) the moment Adam gave the bears to us.  I remember that they were named for something that happened that year.  They are this weird scrapbook that I love.

Here's Mark showing Grandpa Linn Conner.  We acquired Conner years before Mark was born, but Conner is still Mark's favorite bear.

The year we got Lumi:

The year Emma staged a protest that we didn't have enough girl bears.

The year we got Noelle (a girl, and also French so she probably has those dots above the o)

Last year? When they acted out an impromptu story starring the bears.

Surveying the bears this year, Adam said, "This has got to stop."

And he's right.  There's a tipping point when you become a little crazy because you have so many bears and we are probably way past that point.

We decided that next year, when Mark is a senior, will be our last bear.

I told Adam that for the last bear, I wanted one of those enormous Costco bears.  He gave me a side eye, but he knew I was joking.

We need little bears at this point.

Names added for posterity... you know, in case it is life changing... top row:  Conner, Milly, Tea Cup, James, Hobee; Smith, Stella, MacIntosh, Pip and Pop (or Bad and Guy or Snow and Flake)--they are not real Christmas bears, but imposters.  We add them anyway and they have rotating names, Stilly, Fergus (my favorite), Noah, Missy, Noelle, Zephyr; on the sleigh: Lad and Lumi; front row:  Cardamon, Earnest, Shasta, Geyser, Mystic, Alderwood, Skipper, Cashmere and Stewie

Emma!

I have Snapchat for exactly one reason and it is Emma.  Sometimes I take screenshots so I can show Adam what she sends me.  On Saturday she sent the above picture and then she sent the poem.

Later in the day she sent a recording of her singing the song because she wrote music to go with it.

Just a typical Saturday in Paris for Emma Jayne.

Père Lachaise

Wading through a sea of leaves

Under dark and barren trees

Dead as the bodies underneath

None of them are dead; they sleep.

Over mossy cobblestone

And gravelled rocks so careless, thrown

The ground, the leaves, reclaim their own

And so shall we all turn to bone.

Balance on uneven ground

How does a flat path become round?

And why are birds the only sound?

Here lie the lost, here lie the found.

I cross back down; I cannot rise

This cemetery’s filled with eyes

Those awake and those who lie

In every tomb I’m walking by

Under evergreens the shadows spread

And open doors fill me with dread

Did empty graves give up their dead?

I stop awhile but should press ahead

Some paths are winding, some are clear

Some make peace and others fear

But I cannot leave this graveyard dear

For all the paths lead back to here

So I head home in gathering dusk

I must return to streets I trust

And perhaps the leaves, perhaps the dust,

But something whispers, “Stay with us”

I don't know where she came from sometimes.  She is just this wellspring of poetry and music.  I love that about her.

What I really really love is that she is coming home today!  In 12 or so hours, I'll be wrapping my arms around that girl (and then sending her tired self to bed).

Mark

Mark grouses about helping me decorate the Christmas tree because he is color blind and red and green are the hardest colors for him to see.

And almost all our ornaments are red.

I told him to deal with it.  "Just put the ornaments on, it's not like you are going to miss and put them elsewhere."

So he kept attaching ornaments to the blinds.

Mark is a delightful mix of curmudgeon and sweetness.  He randomly hugs and kisses me and refuses to try anything new and stubbornly digs in his heels about things.

Today is his birthday and I love that kid.

He keeps things interesting and is a stable presence in a household that is sometimes tumbling about.

It's been quite a year for him/us.  He has shown grit and humility and patience and acceptance.

It's always a pleasure to be with Mark.  He is good at fixing things and making me laugh.  Saturday, he took down some vocabulary cards for me in my classroom and then texted me this.

He also created his own profile picture on my phone.  It is him completely drugged up after getting his wisdom teeth out.  It hurts my heart a little whenever I see it but I don't know how to change it/clearly don't care that much or I would so something.

That's kind of life with Mark. 17 years of me trying to roll with it.

He loves playing Magic the Gathering with his friends (and doesn't even mind when we tease him about it--which we do a lot).  He loves jazz music and 80s music and singing Les Mis music at the top of his lungs.  He is a whiz at creating playlists.  He loves to crawl in bed between us at my bedtime (I have the earliest bedtime) and say that he is going to sleep there all night.  He is a snuggler.

He is self sufficient and just gets on with it and manages his diabetes.

He's good at math in his head which is kind of a key for diabetic management.

He loves cars and can name any car you see on the road.  (Adam is on a business trip and Mark and I are going to see Ford vs. Ferrari tonight--and get burgers at Red Robin.)

Sunday night we decorated my grandma's house for Christmas.  It is usually Emma's job to set up the olive wood nativity set Grandma got in Israel.  Mark stepped in and as I was decorating the tree nearby, I was relishing the sounds of my 92 year old grandma and Mark sharing ideas about placement.  I thought about how much I love both of them and how I was going to remember that moment forever.

I'm grateful to be Mark's mother.  Just like my other two children, he's stretched me to capacity sometimes and he's filled my heart with joy and love.

I'm glad he's mine.

Happy birthday to the best Christmas gift I ever got.

Feeling like me

It is restorative to my soul to do things that feel like me.

Pukkis feel like me.  I take a picture of these guys every year and they don't change but I still photograph them because I love them.

I don't know why I love goats so much.  I don't think I have any interest in real live goats but these guys have my heart.

So does the color red.

At school the other third grade teachers and I color code things.  I'm red, Janelle is yellow and Kate is green.  The three colors litter our shared google drive.

Christmas is a perfect time to haul out the red.  My favorite is a mostly neutral backdrop with hits of bright red.

I also love that Adam and Mark accommodate my whims.  They climb the ladders and patiently move things to the right, more, more, more...too far, go back.  Right there.  Wait.  No, over to the left more.  Now to the right.

They just stoically comply.

Decorating for Christmas feels like me.

Spending Saturdays with Adam feels like me.  (I told Mark I wanted him to spend the entire day with me too and it was "my Christmas present."  That's the sort of thing you can get a lot of mileage out of as a mother.  I mean, that's what I've heard....)

Mark and Adam and I went to my classroom (because Friday was kind of a hot mess and I needed to do some triage).  Then we had lunch and did our errands.  At Winco, Adam wanted me to try the self parking feature in Joan.  He had tried it before because he's infinitely more curious and technically savvy than I am.

A self parking car sounds like the kind of voodoo I don't want any part of.

He and Mark cajoled so I finally relented.  We went to a far corner of the parking lot where there weren't a lot of cars.  Adam leaned over and pushed the buttons that needed pushing to activate Joan's self parking.  Joan took over and the wheel started turning and she was backing right into a spot.  Except the spot was where the shopping carts go.

I maintained that this is why I never did things like that and assured Joan she had other talents.  Adam still wanted to make it work.  We went to another section of the parking lot (where there was no shopping cart return spot--because obviously Joan was having an identity crisis.)  We drove along and she was "looking" for a spot.  We were passing lots of empty spaces.  Finally she "found" one.  Adam pushed all the buttons again and she tried to back right into another car.

And I'm OK with it; I'm not great at parking either and I don't hold it against Joan.  And also the entire experience made me laugh a lot.

It all goes to show that life with Adam is fun, even when you're in the parking lot of Winco with a stubborn/uncooperative/confused car.

Grateful Friday

I have people in my court and I'm grateful.  For example, the following things happened yesterday:

(background info:  it was announced that Dec. 13 would be a school wide ugly sweater day)

Yesterday I was wearing a Christmas sweater and without any guile or intended rudeness, several students said, "Wait, is today ugly sweater day?"

I told them I was deeply offended.

Later, in the teacher's lounge, multiple teachers told me they loved my sweater.

Take that, eight year olds.

***

When I dropped off my students for lunch, a 4th grade teacher, who's an intern, straight up lectured me about coming to lunch too early, because 4th grade was supposed to be before 3rd grade.  Pretty cheeky for someone young enough to be my daughter but I apologized and said I must have the time wrong.  The school secretary was in the hall and said, "Nope," she said, pointing to me.  "You're on time."  She pointed to the intern. "She is late."

Take that, intern.

***

My classroom has been super hot lately.  So I wore my ugly/not ugly (depends who you ask) sweater at great personal peril.  All day it was 76 degrees and my students had flushed cheeks and drowsy eyes.  Also, all day I had the door propped open with a fan inside the door.  Who knows how hot it would have gotten otherwise.

I told the custodian.  He was typically unconcerned.  He said, "That's actually right where we want it."

But is it?

As the day progressed, I decided it was a ridiculous situation to have me heating the playground at the school district's taxpayers' expense.

I went to Courtney.  She is the assistant principal and the number one choice in the school if you want anything done.  She came to my classroom and told me my thermostat was broken because it's supposed to make a noise like releasing air when you adjust it.  She is on the case.

Take that, custodian.

***

One of my favorite parts of being a mother was reading to my children.  I loved Christmas time when I would wrap up all our Christmas books for an advent calendar and they would take turns unwrapping every day.  We would sit on the couch, Braeden and Emma snuggled on either side of me with Mark a wriggling mass of busyness on my lap.

I miss it.

Yesterday, our song practice with the other third grades finished earlier than expected (put 70+ kids in a room who have all been to primary for years and they can sing).  I had a chance to read them two Christmas books.  I read Jan Brett's Who's That Knocking on Christmas Eve.  There was a lot of oohing and aahing over her amazing illustrations and kids saying, "Wait, let me see!"  Then I read Why Christmas Trees Aren't Perfect.  They were mesmerized and a few of the girls sighed in contentment at the end.  It was pure joy for me.  I have people I can read to.

Take that, relentless passage of time.

Classroom Christmas

For one thing:  we are in Orem, Utah and we don't mince words.  It's not "happy holidays" or "winter celebrations" at school, it's the Christmas Season.  We're not even sorry.

I decorated a tiny tree that Emma let me use.  (One of my students asked me where I got the tree.  When I told her it was my daughter's and I was borrowing it, she said, "Did you ask her first?"  They totally trust my integrity.)

I had them write what brought them joy on the wall hanging (some of them added illustrations until I made them stop and get back to school work).

It looks like all we're getting for Christmas is a pencil sharpener and some pencils. 

I made them each an ornament they can take home out of Scrabble tiles.

During December, I want to read them Christmas stories.  I purposely chose books from my collection that wouldn't make me cry.  One slipped through the cracks, Christmas Day in the Morning by Pearl S. Buck.  What was I thinking?

I cried.

I looked up at my students and a few of the girls had teary eyes too.  All of them sat with rapt attention though and I could tell they were all touched a little (or maybe they were just freaked out that I was crying).

Besides the occasional crying jags, it's a holly jolly time.  We have Christmas music crooning over the speakers in the hallway, the third graders are practicing their song for the Christmas Sing and they're also researching countries for their Christmas Around the World projects.  (One girl proudly showed me a map of the world where she had colored in her assigned country, Russia.  I pointed out she'd actually colored in North America.  "I got confused," she said, vaguely waving her hand.  "I knew it was up somewhere.")

Overreaction

Monday one of my little students came to school a few minutes late--we were already in the gym for the Monday morning assembly.  I waved at her from the other side and she took her seat on the end of one of our class rows.

After, in the chaos of everyone leaving the gym, I greeted her.  She looked really sad and I put my arm around her shoulder and said I was happy to see her.

She said, "Something really sad happened."

"What happened?"

In the noisy gym, I thought I heard her say, "My brother died yesterday."

I felt like I'd been punched.  She was at school!?!  I thought she just had two little sisters. Maybe I hadn't heard her correctly.

"What happened?" I asked again, leaning down close to hear her in the noise.

"My bunny died," she said.

Hopefully my intense relief didn't show because a dead bunny is sad.  I hugged her again and said, "I'm sorry.  That is sad."

But I was so happy.

***

I have this watch that I've had a long time, probably 15 years or so.  I like it.

I've had a few repairmen, when I take it for a new battery, tell me that it isn't going to last and is going to die.  Then I find a new repairman.  It's a whole pattern.

On Monday, I noticed it had the wrong time.  I started spiraling.  I just replaced the battery last summer--I remember because I had to find a new repairman.  It shouldn't need a new battery.  Was it finally dying?  I didn't want to get a new watch!  I like this watch!

Then I realized the second hand was still moving and the watch was exactly one hour off.  I had forgotten to switch it from Pacific time.

The moral to these stories:  sometimes things aren't as bad they seem.

Different isn't worse

It's just different.

I keep telling myself that.

Because this year....

It's the year everything changed.

I always (always) decorate for Christmas on the weekend after Thanksgiving.  Not this year.  We are all surviving.

(I'm feeling a little anxious.)

But we are all surviving.

Here's something that hasn't changed:  my fondness for online shopping!

Saturday

Most of Saturday was spent with wedding festivities.

In the morning though, we joined up with Geri and went to Point Loma and the Cabrillo National Monument.  We visited the tide pools but the tide was in.  I was hoping to see some starfish but the crashing waves were impressive and fun to watch.

In a shocking turn of events the kids got soaked.

Here Mark is taunting the waves to come and get him:

Here Anna shows she's the toughest in the group.

I tried to keep them back away from the slick rock edge because I didn't want them to fall in the water and be pummeled against the rocks.  You know, like a mom.

Anna said, "Don't worry.  I'm pretty sure I could hold both of them if I needed to."

It didn't give me quite the reassurance I was looking for.

It was a beautiful day at a beautiful spot.

We went to the San Diego temple for the sealing.  Another beautiful spot.

The reception was held at a posh hotel.  It occurs to me that I didn't get one photo of the happy couple.

Adam did get this picture though.  So that's something.

Adam's aunt Suzy was there and his cousin Cathy (and of course Pam) and it was fun to visit with them a little and feel the magical connection that is family even though you see each other infrequently.  Aunt Suzy lives in Georgia and I've only seen her a handful of times.  That does not keep her from hugging me and calling me Darlin'.  I'm grateful for the ties that bind me to these good people.

Two Lamborghinis and a Porsche were parked outside our hotel when we returned.

I went up to our room and Mark wanted to stay behind and look at the cars.  Adam sent me this:

We head home this morning, fingers crossed one of our neighbors compassionately cleared our driveway so we can make it to the garage.  It's been a wonderful restful trip.

I'm glad we did it.