I think this is my best winter season yet. Slowly, little by little, I'm beginning to love winter. The cozy snuggling up in blankets and watching the snow fall and blow in drifts. Hot chocolate, holiday baking, warm vents, it's just such a perfect season for reflection and pondering. And reading and writing. And relaxing and recharging for Spring.
And until Spring arrives, Maylie is our little breath of fresh Spring air, always lighting us up with giggles and wrinkled-up nose smiles.
Kitty's favorite places to curl up always involve some kind of basket. The red one is her favorite. I think she thinks that if she snuggles down in there, the squealing girl (May) and the hugging boy (Tate) can't get her. And surprisingly, they usually leave her alone in her little "caves."
On this particular day, I found Flashlight in my room and told her I wouldn't give away her cover. And even with all three kids coming and going out of my room, she managed to stay hidden all day.
At the beginning of the month the Young Women's rode down on Front Runner and Tracks to Temple Square. It was absolutely bitterly cold, and so we didn't really get to enjoy the lights, but we did get to walk around the visitor's centers, see the Christus, and read a Portuguese Book of Mormon. The girls wanted to hear what the language sounded like. While the Beehives all banded together (all 12 of them), these three seniors asked me to be in their group. We had a great time. (Minus standing in the Greyhound Bus Station for an hour waiting for the train...and freezing to death in the 9 degree weather).
More of Miss May. Patrick tells me I take more pictures of her than the two boys combined. I beg to differ, but how can I resist capturing these precious moments?
On this one day in December, we had our first snowfall--that stuck. As soon as Tate woke up from his nap and discovered the white blanket, he was out like a light--without even a coat. (At least he remembered his shoes.) He made a complete circle around the backyard in awe and then ended up in the sandbox to eat his first bite of real snow for the season.
One Monday, Patrick surprised me with a text asking me if we wanted to go swimming for family home evening that night. He knows the manager of the hotel here and she let us in for free!
I really can't even begin to describe how much fun we had. When we pulled in the parking lot, Easton could see in the pool window and commented on how small the pool was. I told him he probably couldn't see the whole thing, but when we got in there, he promptly said, "See? I told you it was small!" It was just a little square, but my it was the funnest pool I've ever been to because we were the only ones there and had the whole place to ourselves.
We played in the water for a long time. All three loved jumping in the water and Maylie wrapped her little arms around my neck and held on for dear life as we swam around. But her face was glowing with happiness and she donned a perpetual wide-mouthed grin the entire time.
We ended our swim in the hot tub, and I was surprised that they all got used to the warm water and loved having a giant bubble bath. I haven't laughed and smiled so much in such a long time.
Afterwards, Easton decided he wanted to live here forever and he and Maylie decided to go to bed on the chairs.
Tate's most favorite thing to do as of late is to sport a funny face for pictures.
Here Easton is trying to get Tate to stand in the right place for the picture, but I panicked and made them move up a good four feet.
These three goof-balls are my everything and I'm so glad they're mine. I think one of the best things about being a mom is planning family activities and traditions that are special to
you and then making amazing memories to treasure forever. It doesn't matter what the activity is, all that matters is the people you're with and the magic you make together.
Last week I got a flu bug of some sort and slept in until 8:00 one morning. Patrick and Easton said family prayer with me while I laid in bed and then they left for work and school. Right after they left, in tiptoed Tate. I told him I was going to get up and sorry I was sick and he said, "It's okay," and pitter-pattered out the door.
I laid there in bed, listening to noises coming from the kitchen. It sounded like Tate was using the toaster, and I smiled thinking how responsible he has recently become in learning how to make himself toast. Just as I was mustering enough strength to start my day, in walked Tate with a bowl in hand and a piece of toast he had made just especially for me.
The toast (which was cold) was made from the end of a loaf (not my favorite), and was burnt on the bottom (also not my favorite). There was a big pile of cinnamon sugar (mostly sugar) and no butter--except for a big, cold chunk in the very center.
And it was the most delicious toast I have ever eaten in my whole entire life.
Because it was made by Tate. And because it was made from his heart. I tear up every time I think of the Christlike service he demonstrated for me that day. And I think how it's just these tiny little moments that make all the pain and heartache of raising children worth every minute.
This is mine and Patrick's ornament of the year. Easton helped me pick out an ornament for everyone back in October. I hung this one where I can always see it, reminding me of the Savior's love for us, how His blood was shed to make us pure white and clean, and how His love made our forever love (meaning me and my sweetheart's) possible.
Saturday rolled around and I spent about 5 hours+ wrapping presents. I hung a Mrs. Claus' Shop sign on our door (just like my mom used to) and locked myself in with all of the presents I had so carefully picked and ordered with all of the wrappings and bows. It was magical in there, listening to my favorite Christmas playlist on the iPod and pondering on the gift I can give to my Savior this year.
I gave my sweeties reindeer names, kept a secret until Christmas morn to keep them from peering "accidentally" into their presents. My mom used to do this for us, and I remember how I used to spend so much time looking at the presents and wondering which ones were mine. I always wanted to be Dancer. This year I chose Dasher, Donner, and Vixen for my sweeties. (Listed youngest to oldest in case you were wondering).
It was such a great feeling to see all of the present "nestled safely under the tree."
Surprisingly Maylie only took off one bow and after I explained to her that she couldn't open them till Christmas, she hasn't touched them again. But one morning she just sat by the presents and kept asking me if she could open the 'puh-sents.' It broke my heart to tell her she couldn't. :(
Also surprisingly, a little elf named Tate decided to play havoc with the gifts. As I was washing the dishes one afternoon, I heard a rustling and scrunching sound coming from the tree. I dashed over to find Tate scrambling from underneath the back of the tree to the front---squishing all the presents as he went. By the time I got him pulled out, he had knocked off several bows and squished at least two presents--one of them Easton's. "Why did you do that?" I scolded him. "Because I had to get out," he responded. I paused and looked at him again, perplexed. "But why did you
get in?" There's a lot of spiritual significance to the whole thing if you ask me. (And humor now that the damage has been repaired.)
After my wrapping party on Saturday we packed up and headed down to Salt Lake to see the lights on Temple Square with Grandma and Grandpa and Sadie and then spend the weekend with them for Grandpa's Birthday.
It was a beautiful evening--much, much warmer than when I went with the Young Women. We ate dinner at the Nauvoo Cafe and carried our chicken pot pie trays precariously down to the cafeteria in the basement of the Joseph Smith Memorial. I was instantly flooded with all of the memories from this sweet place from my childhood. After dinner we met up with Grandpa and Grandma and Sadie and spent the rest of the night gazing at the lights, and visiting the Christus. The boys were wild, but I hope they were able to feel the sweet spirit of Christmas that permeates this special place.
This is my favorite picture from the night (or maybe the next one). Tate wanted a "bored" picture:
And then an "asleep" picture:
And lastly, he wanted a silly face picture with Maylie and Sadie: (Easton was done by this point)
It was a great night indeed.
The other day I had to snap some pictures of Maylie. It's rare I get a picture when her hair looks nice, because it seems that opportune picture moments come only after a long day of craziness when her hair looks "much like the way I feel." :) So here is my successful braid. And coupled with her natural strawberry curls and cute outfit, I just had to take pictures.
I asked Maylie to smile, and this is what I got:
And this:
On Monday Nana and Papa came over for family home evening and we made gingerbread houses for our activity.
And for the last event of this super-long post, last night we had the unique opportunity to attend a live nativity put on by our ward's primary in the barn of our first counselor, Brother Munns. I have to admit that yesterday was a long day and I was not extremely excited for the activity.
It just goes to show that opposition always precedes the miracle.
A narrator told the story we all know so well, and after each part, we in the audience would sing a corresponding Christmas carol. It was freezing cold as we huddled there sipping our hot chocolate, but the night was still and this humble barn in the middle of nowhere was filled with a spirit of reverence. I enjoyed every single minute.
Here the boys are singing "Away in a Manger" as they stand on the hay bales so they can see better.
And that, my friends, is the end of this first half of December's novel. Christmas is coming in just a few days, and I can't wait.
