We spent Friday-Sunday with the Baker’s and had a nice family get together Friday evening (12/22). We stayed with my brother Dan & his family and it was a really nice, very relaxing time. We enjoyed ourselves a lot and Claira loved playing with her bigger cousins.

We had Christmas breakfast with the Taylor’s and it was a really nice time. The kids enjoyed opening their gifts and Claira was into Emma & Kyle’s guitars! We got to have a nice nap, but woke up to Claira with a fever.

We were in the emergency room with her Tuesday morning for several hours – the doctor thought maybe it was croup because of her barky-cough, BUT instead, she tested positive for strep throat… I’m wondering if that’s what I had the week before, but they didn’t take a throat culture then, and still gave me an antibiotic which took care of most of it.

Needless to say, yesterday (Wednesday) was our worst day. I felt HORRIBLE, and although Greg had the day off he was in & out trying to find a toilet to replace our (only) broken one and had an appointment with his counseling supervisor in the afternoon. Claira & I did take a LONG nap in the afternoon and although I had to sleep in the recliner I got to sleep for 5 hours straight for the first time in weeks. The nightly trips to the restroom have been mixed with a very restless Claira for the past several weeks, and I enjoyed the rest. Greg stayed home with us today just to help, and it has helped a lot.

So, Claira is on antibiotics, I’m trying to force fluids with both of us (my sinusitis is lingering) and that with a broken toilet… (which IS being replaced tomorrow morning)…

Needless to say, I am glad we had this week off from work, because i”d have had to call in several days anyway. =) Mixed blessings…

Hope your holidays were happy & healthy.

Rather than post a long drawn-out newsletter(which has mostly been shared on this blog already), I wanted to post a “poll” of sorts and find out what kind of family traditions you enjoyed growing up and what family traditions you are incorporating into your family now.

The day after Thanksgiving we would normally put up our Christmas tree. My dad would disappear after bringing all the boxes in, and the chaotic decorating began. The tree would go up and every knick knack we had would go into a box to be replaced by a Christmas decoration. There were endless boxes and surprises every time we’d decorate and I enjoyed this a lot.

There was always the baking/cooking/candymaking weekend, too. It didn’t just happen once, but my mom was an EXPERT at managing about 6 different projects at once. I don’t know how she did it, but she would have different pots & pans going, while decorations were going up and Christmas music blared in the background. We always made peanut butter balls, toffee, dipped pretzels, baked and decorated various assortments of cookies. The freezer would be PACKED to the limit until we could put together the gift plates to take to church or give to neighbors, but we always had more than enough to sneak a peanut butter ball or 2 after school with a glass of milk…

On Christmas Eve, after we were older, we could open most if not all of our family gifts to each other, or gifts that had been sent to us. On Christmas morning, we got to open our gifts from “Santa.” This was always fun, especially while Dave was still young and we got to be part of keeping Santa alive for him.

As a kid, my favorite part of Christmas was Christmas morning when everybody was (FINALLY!) awake. Mom & Dad let us kids dive into our stockings to keep us entertained and from literally exploding before opening our gifts. But it wasn’t my favorite part because of the gifts or stockings overflowing with goodies.

First, my dad would read Luke 2:1-33. (Okay, first, he would ask if our beds were made – he just LOVED to torture us – and we’d have to go make our bed if they weren’t made already…) Whenever my dad would read this passage – even when I was young, it would make me cry (and it still does). It was a moment of simplicity when the real meaning of Christmas Day was acknowledged and fully realized. I always wondered about Mary & Joseph and how they must have felt at the birth of Jesus. Then, we would sing “Happy Birthday” to Jesus, and that would start our celebration.

We’re still early into our family Christmases, but Greg & I are beginning to talk about the things we’d like to do so our children can have those traditions & memories of the holidays when they grow up.

Whatever you plan to do for Christmas this year, wherever you plan to go, and whoever you will be with, the most important thing to remember is that Christmas is about Jesus Christ – Emmanuel, God with us.

What would you say are your favorite family traditions? Are there any you plan to incorporate into your own family?

Claira will be a big sister next year – we’re due in August again. =)

I got this in an email from my mom with no credits or publishing info, but had to post it here today!

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,”she jeered. “Even dummies know that!” My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandmaalways told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous”cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” She snorted….”Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

“Where” turned out to be Kerby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,”she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car. ” Then she turned and walked out of Kerby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church. I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s second grade class. Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that BobbyDecker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.”

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby reallyneeded a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby, From Santa Claus” on it (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible). Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa’s helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.”I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s bushes.

That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share. And may you always believe in themagic of Santa Claus.

Today is my handsome Hubby’s 37th birthday. When I woke him up this morning and said, “Happy Birthday,” he said “I’m 28 today.” Yes, he is living in denial…

His mom will make his traditional banana pudding today. As much as Greg LOVES cake (and I mean the bakery kind with the sugary icing), for his birthday, he always wants banana pudding, and his mom makes it from scratch. I believe it was Mommy Reynolds’ recipe, and now his mom makes it every year. It is SO good – we’re all looking forward to that tonight… His mom has learned to make a batch just for Greg and a batch for everybody else…

I’m giving him a cologne sampler – it’s what he asked for, and in the end, I get to reap some of the benefits. =) I hope he has a great day and enjoys his day off (even though he IS running errands today).

I love you, Sweetie. I’m glad we are married. It’s a happy start to our week of celebration!!!

If you’ve ever seen the movie, “The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood,” you’ll know that it’s about enduring friendships. It is also about a mother-daughter relationship and all of its ups & downs. I watched it recently, and have to admit that at moments in my life I could relate to both Vivi and Siddalee Walker…

On one hand, I feel like I’m “cracking up” like Vivi did when she was younger. The moment all of the kids were vomiting and had diarrhea and she stepped in the mess – I can almost relate to that only on a much smaller scale. On the other hand, there are issues in my life, from my childhood, that I am dealing with and I feel like I could write a book…

In one of the final moments of the film, a conversation takes place between Vivi & Sidda that just really speaks volumes to me about the relationship between a mother & daughter…

Vivi: I’ve been thinking about what I’d sayto you, should we ever speak again. I thought of all the mean things that’dmake you feel guilty. You know me. I take a problem and chew on it until all the flavor’s gone… …and then I stick it in my hair. And then it dawned on me.
All those years…
…that I prayed…
…that I begged on my handsand knees…
…for God to make me more, give me more…
…make me better…
…make me stronger…
…make me saner…
…make all my dreams come true…
I finally got an answer.
Sidda: What?
V: You.
Right there in one person,all I’d ever wanted to be or do.
And there you are.
You came right through me…
…and I never even realized.
I hate it when it’s right in front ofyour face and you miss it. Don’t you?
(minor conversation continues)
There’s one more thing I want to ask.
Then you go dance until your socks melt.
Okay. But I want you to be totally honest.
S: Are you sure?
V: – Yes.
S:- Okay.
V: Do I look like I’ve gained weight?
S: No. Actually,I think you may be too thin.
V: God love you, darling.