Real-Time Phrom the Phone

 

Books are fast becoming constant companions-- first thing in the morning before he's dressed for the day, last thing at night (and in the middle of the night with a flashlight until the telltale glow gives him away), and in all the spaces in-between, this boy is bewitched, and I am as glad as can be.

Last night, he began reading his book by the Advent wreath candles as we began the nightly liturgy. I told him to close the book, inwardly happy that I have to address inappropriate times for reading with Ezekiel now, too.

Real Time: Worth My Weight in Gold

 
So I've been the same weight, yo-yo-ing several pounds more or less, since a few months after Ransom was born, and it's 40+ pounds more than my usual "normal." I'm okay with this, for the most part. I'm older, and my body definitely responds differently than it used to, so apart from being resentful and grumpy as I pass off all my old favorite clothes to my daughters, my round belly doesn't bother me. I have, however, felt sludgy, and my heart keeps acting cranky, so in response to my subtle plea, John gave me a few simple exercises to start working on this week.

Just now, I completed 30 jumping jacks in the living room, but starting laughing hard in the middle of them because Aidan was sitting on the couch, watching me and looking visibly uncertain and worried, when he suddenly bellowed, 

"MAMA! Everything's BOINGIN', even the floor! How much do you weigh?" 

Not nearly enough to make the floor collapse, my dear...I hope. ;)

January

 

Posting snapshots from January 2022, the start of a new year, just a few days after Advent has begun, the start of the liturgical New Year, is a strange sort of fitting order, yes?  I'll just pretend I thoughtfully engineered it so.  


I don't remember anything of January save what these pictures reflect. Susannah took pictures of things outside, and I took pictures of people inside, and here I lay them in a line.

That Boy!

 

Friends who see us in real life know what a long road Zeke has traveled in order to learn to read. After being diagnosed with speech apraxia when he was young, he only learned to articulate phonograms and blends through a few years of intense speech labor. 2022 was his year, though, praise God! This picture makes me happy because it's a boy reading in the sunshine, which never grows old, but also it shows his mischievous personality. Instead of hiding a comic book inside of a reading book in order to read comics on the sly, he hid a reading book inside of a comic book so that I would chastise him unfairly.

And it worked.

Tea Parties Are Not Seasonal

...but they do seem cozier and sometimes even fancier in the winter. Aidan and Cadence set up this private tea party all by themselves.

Aidan wanted me to take a picture of his stuffed animals nursing their babies-- Fox (with baby Foxie-Woxie) and Goldenrod (with baby Goldie)

Lark's choice of footwear and her ability to not break an ankle coming downstairs impressed me.

And here is the rival tea party in the dining room. It's like a Western saloon showdown, only more genteel, in which you just try to out-fancy and out-drink one another instead of trying to out-shoot and....out-drink one another.

I'm not sure who emerged the winner.

 

Creepy, Creepy Nutcrackers

 

The girls make fun of me because at some point during the Advent season, our house becomes absolutely overrun with wooden men, peering creepily out from every nook and cranny.

It began as a quirky novelty when I picked up a giant nutcracker for a couple of dollars on extreme Christmas clearance years ago and gave him the company of some smaller men from the dollar store, but it quickly turned into a problem along the lines of Pied-Piper-in-Hamelin when several years later I discovered DOZENS OF CHARMING GIANT WOODEN NUTCRACKERS ALL FOR 5 DOLLARS EACH AND SMALLER ONES FOR ONLY FIFTY CENTS! at the Christmas Tree Shop, at which, you see, I serendipitously had been given a $50 gift card by Mom Owen. (Don't worry. I did not spend the entire gift card on nutcrackers.)

I could explain this away by letting you all know that in high school I discovered a love for old toys, particularly wooden and metal ones, and that I still love wooden and metal toys, and that nutcrackers are kind of like wooden toys for adults, but....

 Yes. 

I am now THAT creepy old lady with a creepy house stuffed with lots of creepy nutcrackers.

To my great delight, however, I've found a kindred spirit in Ransom, whose love for nutcrackers exceeds even my own! Last Christmas season was filled with him giving countless kisses to every nutcracker he could reach. I even gave him a big nutcracker I found at an antique store for a dollar for his birthday last year, and he still plays with it.

Here he is on the day of our Epiphany celebration, wearing his Ephiphany overalls from Mom Owen, playing with a nutcracker.

(I remember talking to an old college friend who visited John and me when Millie was a baby. He confessed that he didn't often check my blog because "there were too many words and not enough pictures."
Millie's totally right. I am needlessly long-winded.)

Here's the progression.
1. Ransom plays with a big nutcracker.
2. I replace the big nutcracker with his small nutcracker ornament to take a picture for posterity.
3. He cries until I return the big nutcracker.
4. He eats the small nutcracker.
5. The End.

Eyes to See

People who dislike children miss so much.  Poverty unrealized.

We always take the tree down the day after Epiphany, at which point it's just a dry husk trying to shed as many needles as quickly as possible. Children see the life and possibility in all things, though, even a discarded tree.  This is both God's gift to them and their gift to us.

A couple of days after the Christmas season ended, Ezekiel and the younger children called me outside in a high state of suppressed excitement.  They led me down the path to the treehouse, but veered off halfway down, leading me through a newly erected archway to a seating area around our pitiful tree, which they'd propped upright with the support of snow and scrap lumber..

Ezekiel handed me a mug of (almost hot) coffee, and we just sat together and enjoyed the tree all over again, newly decorated with rose hips, winter berries, and dried goldenrod, crowned with a plastic bottle-angel-topper and under which was a new creche with angel figures, the Babe, His parents, and the wise man, all hand-fashioned by Ezekiel that morning. (They told me that Marigold the pup had snatched and stolen the third wise man. I thought the snowman replacement was a novel touch.)

Children can't help but share.
I asked them bring me the camera to mark the magic.
I hope God allows me to keep this memory.

 

Mopsy Turns 75!

 

In mid-January, we had a surprise 75th birthday party for the Mopsy, under the guise of a luncheon of leftover soup with Becky and her girls who were visiting. (Mom can never pass up an opportunity to eat leftovers.)  Andy and Co., Luke & Jae Ryong, and Joel couldn't be there in the flesh, so they joined us via video call on a couple of cell phones. What a strange and wonderful age!  The rest (all forty-one of us!) crouched and crammed into the sunroom for her grand entry.

No leftover soup greeted her when she came in the door, so, yes, we surprised her.

Jessie was the first to greet and give a hug.

And then the missing sons (and daughters-in-law) said hello via the magic of this age.

Alas, we had no leftover soup, but instead feasted on mounds of marinated chicken that Pete and Sarah generously purchased from a local caterer (Phil's Chicken House with their world-famous dreamy chicken), coupled with lots of side dishes and desserts we all contributed.  And cake. There must be cake.  And a grandson trying his darnedest to intimidate me. It didn't work, August! So there!

After eating, we all settled in the living room for her to open her gifts, with youngest children front and center, and the distant children still present via video call.

 

We are all brim-full thankful for this tough little lady, whom we have so often taken for granted, though less so these days-- a strong woman of strong faith, a godly example to both her sons and her daughters, and a mother who continues to pray zealously and give selflessly to her children, grandchildren, and those whom God places around her. God grant you His joy, Mopsy, in each new day. We love you!