Picking our Tree {and the Decorating.}

Two days after Thanksgiving we piled into the car and drove to a little farm out in the middle of nowhere (which is exactly where I love to be).

We walked through the rows of trees and finally picked the tallest one we could find--a 9 foot Fraser.

That afternoon we decorated the tree and the boys loved finding all of their ornaments amidst the boxes.  It was a like a treasure hunt.

After the tree was done, Patrick and the three littles retreated upstairs to watch a game and I had an hour to decorate the rest of the house.  It was soothing and calming and something I've missed.  Ever since moving here, I've resisted the urge to decorate much because I've been waiting for my living room to be perfect.  Well, it's not quite perfect, but it's pretty close and I threw myself headlong into the festivity.

And just a few days after the decorating, our family pictures arrived in a huge box.  It was the icing on the cake for me.

Below are the ones we set on our shelf.  I have lots more pictures in my bedroom, just waiting to be hung, but for now these are all I need.

I love you with all my heart Patrick, Easton, Tate, and Maylie!

Our Oasis.

Meet our new master bedroom {aka: retreat, oasis, safe haven, peaceful place...}.

I had a vision long ago of what I dreamed a bedroom to be.  It took a few years to come to fruition, but I couldn't be more pleased with the results.

I spent most of New Year's Eve and New Year's painting our cherry wood bedroom set a shade of white and added a new comforter and pillows (thanks to some amazing Black Friday sales) with a dreamy duvet cover and throw covers.

After we hauled them upstairs and set them up, I couldn't stop smiling.  I kept purposely walking into the room just to sigh and smile.

This is finally my dream come true.

Nursery Beginnings.

Full and overflowing with ideas for Maylie, I will be dedicating a few posts here and there to preparing for her.

Today I painted a few scrumptious items for her nursery:

Last Friday I painted her dresser.  It's especially precious because it belonged to my mother in her little-girl days and then was passed on to me and my sisters.

Through the years it has been loved and scratched and banged a bit.

But a coat of antique white gave this little family heirloom a new beginning.

Then we painted her crib.  It was given to us in almost brand-new condition when Easton was born.

At about 10 months, when he had mastered the art of standing {and kicking}, he proceeded to kick out one of the spokes.  It broke right down the middle.

For the remainder of his "crib-life" we made do by turning that side into the wall. (note: the damage cannot be seen in the following photos)

When Tate came, Pop carved us a new spoke out of wood and we fixed the crib up to be sturdier.

Now it's time for our little crib to be given a coat of white paint.  Based on the amount of time this took, I'd say any mother {and father} who undergo such a project are truly performing a labor of love.

P.S. Please ignore the pictures of me...I'm very reluctant to have any pictures even taken while I'm expecting.  I should have specified for Patrick to only take my head!

P.S.S. We really love you Maylie.

Winter Solitude.

This post is late in coming since it is all about January.

This year we welcomed January with open arms...for the first time.  January is always dismal and has always been my very least favorite month.  But this year I was armed with my goal to be grateful along with snippets of ideas, projects, and family activities to push the month a little closer to the blissful side.

Highlights included a trip to Twin Falls to watch Megan play basketball, visits from our extended families, puzzles, 

and finishing the final book of Fablehaven {which we both somewhat mourn. Patrick says he catches himself wondering what is about to take place in the book, only to remember that it's over. The other night he asked me if I wanted to read to him. I said yes with a twinge of sadness knowing there will be no more Kendra or Seth or the sphinx. No more Warren or Raxtus or Bracken or Vanessa. Please keep writing Mr. Mull!!}

January also brought trials I was not expecting, but which the Lord knew we could overcome.

January brought Patrick and me closer together in love and friendship than I ever thought possible {which of course seems impossible when you are so in love. I guess the Lord knows how to increase affection that already seems so very affectionate.}

January brought a change of decor that most reflects what I felt this month--white peace, snowy clean, flowery tatters, frozen sparkly crystal.

And how could I forget my perfect, new purse?

January also brought me some unforgettable moments...

Like sour cream rain drops on little noses.

 And Robin Hood.

Like rocking horses.

And dress-up horses.

Like folding huge piles of laundry and Tate wanting me to make him a pillow and blanket out of towels. {"Night, night," he told me}

And mounds upon unmeltable mounds of snow.

And when we pulled up to the Twin Falls temple, Tate started excitedly pointing and saying "Babo!!" {Temple}.  

It made me so. happy.

And then there was the sun.  A dozen times I opened my kitchen blinds and was taken back by the startling, vivid warmth of sunshine.  I would close my eyes with my face tilted upwards and bask for minutes in the glow.  Because it was so energizing. So life-giving. And light. And healing. And pure loveliness.  And I thanked the Lord for the symbolic homophone of the "sun" and "His Son." In truth, these "sonshine" moments could only be really cherished in the wintertime when a glimpse from the sun is a breath of heaven.

So this post is completely and utterly for you January. I'm sorry for my past prejudice. From now on I will try to love you because this year you have brought me such joy and tears and love and laughter.

The End. (until 2012)