While watching a kids’ program featuring Cupid shooting someone with an arrow (picture the exploding hearts over the screen)
Baby A(disgustedly): When do you get over the love part?
Baby C: When someone breaks up with you.
I’m perfectly happy that girls are still out of the picture. It gives me more time to train them!
I’m so proud of my Baby C! He asked for a Lego set for Christmas that had a ridiculously large number of pieces. There was much hesitation on our part, but in the end, it’s what he wanted. Five days later….
Opening presents this Christmas morning was a delight. There were a few surprises for the boys, an unexpected scanner/copier for me, some hedge clippers for Craig (and I got major points for noticing the old ones needed replacing).
One of the bigger hits was a handheld labeling machine that I got for Craig so that we could label all the extra power cords and USB cables to the equipment around the house. It has a full QWERTY keyboard and is a cinch to use.
Travis (Baby B) was particularly interested in playing with it Christmas morning. I was hesitant to let him handle it since it was Craig’s gift, and I was afraid that he would mess it up before we even had a chance to use it. (He is differently abled, and “mash all buttons until something happens” is his preferred way of exploring). Craig graciously said “Let him be”, and we moved on to cleaning up the room and getting ready for company.
Later that morning, Craig brought me a little white strip of paper, freshly cut off the labeling machine. “Look what he typed – all by himself. ”
Could there be any more perfect gift under a tree?
I’m a Christmas Eve baby. Which means that I get to share my birthday with perhaps the most special Babe of all – the Baby Jesus. My mom was so cool about my birthday. We’d have a cake and a little get-together every year in the afternoon. I’d have a Santa pinata and a Christmas tree cake. My birthday presents would NOT be wrapped in red or green, and it was my birthday up until 6:00. After that, Jesus could have His day.
Today was fun – The boys served me breakfast in bed (pancakes, bacon, clementine, orange juice and MOST importantly – coffee). I received some lovely gifts, and then it was off to the races. As a youngster, I never appreciated all that my mother had to do on this day. Now, I’m racing around just to fit it all in – I can’t imagine having to plan a birthday party on top of it all.
I thought you might want to see what happened in my kitchen today.
This is for breakfast on the 26th, when we’ll have company. I’ll wrap it tightly and hope it’ll keep. I also made
The tea ring is a family tradition (it’s rising in the picture above – didn’t have time to wait for the rising and the baking and the icing) We had a Swedish friend who made one for us every year. Hers were works of art, and in 15 years of trying to replicate hers, I’ve never come close. I am getting better at it, though, and my husband and father-in-law look forward to it every year. This year, I added dried apricots. I hope it doesn’t throw the flavor off. I’ll let you know later how it came out.
I was sitting at my desk the other day and I overheard the boys playing with their legos in the next room. They were playing wedding. I thought that might be a bit girly until the conversation took a decided turn.
Baby A: You have the bride? That’s the girl, you know.
Baby C: What’s the boy’s name that gets married?
Baby A: It’s a grime.
Baby C: Okay, let’s do the checklist. Cupcakes, jelly beans, doughnuts?
Baby A: Check.
Baby C: Punch?
Baby A: Check.
Baby C: Light sabers? Grenades? Machine guns? (Where is this wedding occuring? Tehran?)
Baby A: Check.
15 minutes later, the bride and grime are dead, the wedding hall is blown to pieces and bits of lego bodies are strewn across the room. The boys announce this is now a crime scene investigation and all causes of my concern have drifted, carried away on the sound of exploding bombs coming from beyond the bedroom door.
I’m back from my trip, and it was GREAT! I got to see almost all of my family and spent a lot of quality time hanging out with my very cool parents. Went to Wal-Mart and the Ginger Jar (neat little gift shop – if you’re ever on Hwy 81 going through Duncan, be sure and stop). Went to Braum’s three times (the diet begins in January). Went to my home church and introduced the boys to the same ladies that taught me Sunday School and showed them the baptistry where my father baptized me. Baby A commented “Wow, Mom, there sure are a lot of historical facts about you in Oklahoma.”
One neat thing happened to me on the return trip at Exit 13 in Alma, Arkansas. I like to stop there because it’s convenient to a Braum’s AND a gas station, and it’s sort of a home exit for me since I attended grad school at the University of Arkansas, a mere 45 minutes up the road from there. Before they built the by-pass, it was the exit that I would take, so for nostalgic reasons, I like to stop.
I unloaded the boys and made them take a bathroom stop. I took Baby B in with me to the ladies’ room. (For those of you who don’t know, Baby B uses a wheelchair. He has cerebral palsy and autism, so he needs a little extra help with the bathroom.) Fortunately this time, I didn’t get any stares from anyone. There was a nice woman there who offered to hold the door for me and smiled at us.
She and her husband were leaving the restaurant at the same time that we were. I loaded the boys in the car and they were pulling past us as I was wheeling the chair to the back of the car to stow. The car stopped and the man got out. “May I help you load the chair?” Tears sprang to my eyes. This was an elderly man, and he was offering assistance while four men half his age had walked by with nary a word. I accepted, thanking God for sending someone my way. That chair was/is heavy, and I had to load and unload it probably three more times that day.
He was so gracious “I know you can do this by yourself, but I wanted to help.” I thanked him and asked for God’s blessings on his day. And thanked God for blessing mine by showing me how He keeps His eye on me and cares for me, even in the seemingly small ways.
I hope you have a very Merry Christmas, Mr. Arkansas Helper. You’ve certainly blessed mine.