Candle Making

We made our Advent Candles today, with everyone taking part. (Well, Crockett ate crackers in his high chair, but he would have loved to munch the beeswax instead). This truly proved to be a worthwhile craft that even Toddzilla could manage. We made our three purples and one pink for the Advent wreath. Later we hope to make some for giving as gifts.

Christ the King

I love Christ the King Sunday. It's such a triumphant way to end the church year, and a nice transition from the season of giving thanks to Advent. This morning's service was a beautiful reminder that Christ is King, no matter what.

Our own Thanksgiving was quiet, yet meaningful. The children were all very excited about the pomp and circumstance of it all. We entertained friends for pie in the late afternoon. I, for one, headed straight for bed after that. I think the flu shot gave me a bit more of the flu than planned for. Thankfully, it was short-lived.

The big three are going to enjoy a little quality time with Nana and Papa at our place for a few days while Hubby and I take Crockett out of town. How strange it will be just the three of us! "A man and a woman had a little baby, yes they did. They had three in the family. And that's a magic number." (We're way into SchoolHouse Rock around here).

A Lament for the Already Forgotten Pilgrims

Thanksgiving prep has been so much fun this year. Last year, I was pregnant with Crockett and we were visiting family in Minneapolis so I didn't do a whole lot to help with the meal. The year before that, my girls were too little to get excited about anything but the pumpkin pie and whip cream.

This year is a completely different story. My daughters love to put on whatever pilgrimesque costume they can scavenge from our dress ups and their closets and get involved in every detail of the preparation. The boys want to be right in the action too, but sometimes they are just a little too involved. We convinced them to play some sort of ring around the rosie game in the middle of the kitchen instead of using our stuffing bread for dump truck fodder.

There are snowflakes in the air and we've got a fire blazing. Unfortunately, we're reading more princess and fairy stories instead of the hoped for Thanksgiving books we just went to Barnes and Noble to find. They had already taken them all away to make room for the Christmas books. Ugh.

Stepping Heavenward: The Oh-So-Inadequate Review

Well, it's official. I've now read Stepping Heavenward. The back story is long and not necessary; suffice to say I've had a long running conversation with myself about when this book would or would not get read.

I am quite sad that it's over. Most likely, I will begin it all over again because I know there is a lot more I can take from this book. As I read, I marked passages that were crying out to be added to my journal and read over and over in the years to come. But I can't write them down - I feel like taking them off one page and putting them on another would somehow alter them, or change what they've meant to me. It's a strange feeling, one that I've never had before about a book.

I now see - hindsight is a beautiful thing - that this book was meant for me now. The reason I had hesitated to read it over the years was nothing short of God's great care of my soul. There is no way that I would have been so moved by this book at any other time.

This Thanksgiving, I am most grateful for God's personal love for his children and his unflinching mercy.

Here Comes Thanksgiving!

We're in full preparation here for the big day. My husband is outside hanging the lights (in North Dakota, you do this when the weather is nice: as early as possible!). The girls and I made our cranberry-orange sauce this morning; it's tucked away in the back of the fridge to avoid greedy little hands. The croissants are happily resting in the freezer, ready to be fresh on Thursday.

I've used Betty Crocker's Entertaining Basics for Thanksgiving ever since I prepared my first Turkey Day solo. That was only two years ago. We were expecting my best friend from dear old Dartmouth - flying in from Denver and bringing her new husband - whom we had only met at the wedding. The pressure was high! I turned to Betty and she definitely delivered, mainly because so much of her plan is done in advance.

Tomorrow is pie day. Wednesday will be the early mashed potatoes and stuffing prep. All that is left for Thursday is the maple glazed squash (easy) and the turkey itself. Bring it on!

The Agony of the Apology

Toddzilla wandered upstairs and stopped short when he saw me feeding the baby. "Mom," he said, "I want to be a baby again."

Mother guilt surging through my veins, I was certain he was pining for his own days of being constantly cuddled and held. Before I could respond, he blurted, "Then I can't say sorry."

"You mean, then you'd never have to apologize to anyone?" I asked, hoping I had misunderstood.

"Yup." And he bounded away, just as fast as he had come.

Giving Thanks

We made our Tree of Thanks yesterday. Everyone got into the action; even Crockett chewed a few pieces of paper for good measure.

I'm especially thankful this morning for the little buddies my children are becoming. My boys are playing in Crockett's crib right now - pretending it's a rescue boat. The girls are in the play room tying up some of my old yarn to make a clothes line and a fire pit.

I realized what a blessing this whole siblings-as-best-friends thing is when Bobo called to me from her Latin lesson earlier today, "What's the Latin word for siblings?"

"I don't know. We haven't learned it yet," I responded. "Why?"

"Because the question says: what do you call 'playmates'?"

Got it. The answer was friends, but siblings came to her mind first. I love that! (Remind me to read this later today, when the inevitable sibling squirmish breaks out and I forget how sweet they were just hours ago).

Saxon Break

We've been on break from Saxon 2 for a few weeks. Bobo (1st grade) was getting the work done, but I could tell she wasn't understanding certain concepts. I decided to buy some fun (in color!) first grade math books at Barnes and Noble.

I'm so glad we did! She breezes through most of it, but it's been interesting to see that the different page layouts, ever-changing directions, and just general unfamiliarity of it all have been a challenge for her. Saxon is laid out the same almost every day: math facts drill page, lesson page. The lesson page rarely changes in format, so she doesn't really even need to read any directions anymore.

Our "fun" break has forced her to do things differently, learn concepts in a new way, and actually read the directions. All pretty important stuff if you ask me. I think we'll periodically switch things up a bit like this - with math especially - to ensure she's really getting it.

Advent Plans

Our Advent plans are complete. I try hard to keep this simple. There will be plenty of "extras" during December: dance and music recitals, church events, and of course a few parties.

We've been quite fond of the Lego Advent calendars in years past. This year they actually added a girl themed version so I bought two: one for the boys, one for the girls. Early mornings begin with, "Is it my day to make the Legos?" We've added quite a few pieces to our ever growing Lego collection through this little Advent tradition.

We celebrate St. Nicholas and St. Lucy -- one with shoes on the fire place, filled with golden chocolates in the morning, the other with a candlelight breakfast.

This year I will add two new crafts, both gleaned from the wisdom of others. Jenn gave me the idea for making our own beeswax Advent candles. I think we'll make lots of others (the kit supplies you enough for 20 candles) to give as gifts.

I got the list for a Jesse tree here. We'll try making one of the items each day with Sculpey and hanging them from some branches in a vase. I'm not sure how successful we'll be - sculpting a lion and lamb for instance - may prove too difficult for my young brood, but we'll have fun and learn a ton in the process.

Now I Feel Better

Bobo was up early this morning, and we were discussing the fact that one day all my children will most likely be taller than their dear mother. "Don't worry, Mom" she said, "By the time that happens, you'll be an old lady, and old ladies are all short. You'll fit right in."

Great.

You Be The Judge

We got through the last of our Fall birthdays marathon last week. It was Toddzilla's first "real" party; in other words he actually had guests besides his own family and his godparents.

All went famously. I honestly grinned and expected the worst. It could have been dicey: four little three year old boys left to their own devices (I didn't plan any activities) and a host of older girl siblings, having their own tea party upstairs. But Toddzilla was a gracious host, even sharing his brand new toys like it was no big deal. (Let me assure you - it was a huge deal!)

The one small hitch lay in my cake design. Initially, I was pleased with how Tyrone - of the Backyardigans fame - turned out, considering I had ample "help" from Toddzilla himself. Then one of the mothers brought me back down to earth with this: "Oh, what a cute Arthur cake!"

Little Flowers

The girls are performing in the Nutcracker this year with their ballet company. Their class is doing the Waltz of the Flowers. They've been waiting with bated breath for two months for their costumes to arrive. Today was the day!

Toddzilla - who until recently refused to pose for pictures - now refuses to be left out. So much for my all flower fairy shot.

In other news, hubby came home from the hunt without a deer this year. No venison for us. Yippee! (Oh, did I say that out loud?)

Beck and the Great Berry Battle

Bobo is still plugging away on the Pixie Hollow series. Here is her latest narration:


"Beck is a animal talent fairy. She can understand what animals say and do. But her friend, Twitter, a hummingbird, tells her that there's a berry battle. The hummingbirds think that the chipmunks have taken their nests. And they're using berries for defense. It ends up to be that Grandfather Mole is using the nest as a hat. Beck has settled another battle."

And Miles To Go Before I Sleep...

I'm still busily working away on my Home Made Christmas plans. The pace is not rushed, considering I started in August. A little sewing here, a bit of knitting there, and I should wrap it up in good time.

Currently, I'm working on scarves and hats for my two aunts and one uncle. I don't knit much anymore, so this has been fun. My daughters launch into a full fledged game of Little House on the Prairie when I whip out my needles. I, of course, get to play the incredibly industrious Ma, the girls are Mary and Laura, Toddzilla fluctuates between playing Carrie and their naughty cousin Charley. Crockett, as you can see, doesn't have a choice. It's all baby Grace for him. He's very good natured about the whole thing, thankfully.

The hardest gift by far will be for my father. He's impossible to buy for; I can't imagine finding something to knit or sew for him. I'm determined to find a pattern that I think he'll actually wear or use. If all else fails, I'll resign myself to golf club covers or something horrendous like that. (Read: I'm open to ideas. Any ideas!)

My Birthday Boy

This little guy is turning three this week. "Spirited" does not do him justice; even "strong willed" isn't quite adequate. We call him Toddzilla, which - roughly translated - means "if I don't get it right now I may flail around on the floor for as long as someone is willing to watch me." That's my boy.

But he's also about the sweetest thing this side of the Mississippi. He comes running when his baby brother is in distress, he is my biggest helper in the kitchen, and he's never stingy with the hugs and kisses. His name means "God hears" and his verse is: "I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him" (I Samuel 1:27).

And for this child I will continue to pray. Thank you, Father, for granting me the privilege of watching him grow in grace and truth.

A Definitive Answer

The girls and I were out for a chilly afternoon walk on Saturday, when Bobo asked me how we know the Holy Spirit is real. She wears her emotions on her sleeve, often tearing up during worship because "she just feels it." I reminded her of that feeling - as it had happened to her just the week before at church. "That's the Holy Spirit speaking to you," I said, "Sometimes it's a feeling just like that." We walked on and didn't speak any more about it.


Later that day I was preparing dinner, balancing Crockett on my hip. He's got his first cold and wants to be held and cuddled all the time. I needed to start the grill outside, and was just going to run and turn it on, rushing back inside so the baby wouldn't get too cold.


Something made me change my mind. I took Crockett upstairs and lay him next to his dad, who was reading in our bedroom. I ran out to light the grill. For the longest time it wouldn't light. I kept pushing the starter button until finally a huge, roaring flame leapt out unexpectantly, singeing the little hairs on my arm.


I don't want to imagine what might have happened if I was holding Crockett. Would I have dropped him? Would he have gotten burned? I shudder to think about it. Thankfully, none of that happened because the Holy Spirit prompted me to leave him inside.


At dinner, I repeated the story to all the children, mindful that God was responding to Bobo's question from earlier that day. We were all able to praise and thank him for leading and guiding us - even in the mundane tasks of home life - through his blessed Spirit.

Waxing Poetic

My husband and I were married for four years before we had our first child. We were also graduate students at Yale, living within walking distance of several amazing Italian delis in New Haven. Romeo and Gioseppe's was our favorite. We'd stop by on the way home from class, pick up some fresh basil, mozarella, and Roma tomatoes, and spend the afternoon making home made basil pasta.

We had a tiny kitchen in our tiny apartment, which was really the second floor of a tiny house. Pasta would literally be hanging from the rafters, drying, while we poured over our Greek, Hebrew, and theology studies.

Dinner was often by candlelight. I hold on to these precious candlesticks as a testament to how we lingered at the table in those early years, savoring not only the food but each other's company. I know I will never try to remove all that beautiful wax, as multi-colored as those early conversations.

Almost eleven years and four children later, we no longer linger at the dinner table, and our conversations are not usually about deep theological truths (at least not while simultaneously spoon feeding a baby and attempting to teach the older children some basic table manners). We haven't made home made pasta since the first child was born.

And yet God's grace is more palpable than ever, as we sit around our growing table. We rarely light candles anymore, but the Light of the World continues to reveal himself to us in simple - yet profound - ways.