Friday, December 16, 2011

a Christmas post.

Sometimes in the hustle and bustle of life (not just of this season), I fall prey to lacking spending that real, honest, I am so feeling this right now quality time with my Man, my children - the times where they get to see the real me. the real Laura - the one who I am when I let go of life's stresses - the one I am at my core, in my heart, the one who loves deeply and cares tenderly, the Laura who can be really funny, the one who makes friends easily, the one who is relaxed and fun and silly and such. Sadly, this Laura doesn't come out to play nearly often enough as she gets wrapped up in sweeping floors and washing diapers and naptimes and laundry piles and unwashed hair. And floors. And all that jazz.

Even my Hubs doesn't get to see her all that often. And this is really a shame.

However, sometimes I am she. I am present, I am relaxed, I am funny, I am me. Fortunately, this little man encourages that me out of her my shell more often than not. That is good. But it's not good enough.

Today started much as any other day - we awoke, Daddy went off to work, I put on a strong pot of coffee (to ward off the sleepiness from the toll the impenetrable cold season is taking on our household), and I began the balancing act of making nine sunny-side up eggies and toast and blueberry applesauce for the four hungry tummies requesting such fare. Yes, between my four children, it is not unusual to go through nine eggs for one simple breakfast. (Hence the reason the sweet Papa provided us with six dozen in the fridge at one time).

Said breakfasts were hungrily consumed before this Mama could even sit down to drink said coffee, so there is no photographic evidence of neither eggies nor toasties. Nor coffee.

Shortly after breakfast, the biggest boy very reluctantly began his final final final work for this term's school work - he has one research report to complete, a process that is badgering, haunting, consuming and eluding him all at the same time. Needless to say, he sat down to commence this treacherous ordeal. And somehow, between his researching Terry Fox and his Marathon of Hope, this mama realized she is just as highly distractible as these fine children God has entrusted in her care.

Somehow, research reports be damned, we ended up in a full-scale knock-off-ichiban-no-name noodle war... noodle packages whizzing through the air to the sound of squeals and laughter and "get her!" and packages pelting flesh (mostly mine) - a war complete with semi-uniformed soldiers, hand-built barricades blocking the kitchen, four children against just me (only three as soldiers, really, as the watchful babe was an innocent spectator... whom I'm proud to say suffered no bystander injuries in this war). Don't ask me how we went from researching at the computer and breakfast dishes and wishful cups of coffee to fully throwing packages of uncooked noodles at each other. But it sure was fun.

There is also no photographic evidence of this war. But amidst the giggles, squeals, running-running-running, more squeals, breathlessness, sliding around corners in stockinged feet, and the ninja-star throwing tactics of the biggest boy, we. had. a. blast.

An absolute blast. My children got to play with me.
And it was good. 

The only evidence left is the sad, crushed-to-bits and wilted packages of noodles, and the swept up remains of millions of broken noodle pieces from the one package that exploded upon impact after several (and I mean several) attempts at it being flung directly at this mama, strewn into the remains of yuck on my kitchen floor (and this is even after I had swept multiple times today, thank you very much).

Then they rested. And that was our morning. Amen.

And Isaac finished his report. *so proud*.

In eight days my biggest boy turns twelve. Twelve. ohmygoodness. I can't actually fathom this, and then again it feels like the most natural transition in the world.

A month to the day before his twelfth birthday, my middlest boy turned three.

Yes, Jacob is three.
We had a simple, lovely little party with only a few people over. Auntie BettyAnn gave Jacob the flying butterfly catching game Elefun. It was a hit. Jacob, the one who is wildly passionate about all things musical, also received a guitar from us and a ukulele from Grandma and Grandpa Rutherford. So far besides this interesting fake 'rocking out' as a lefty on them, his favourite thing to do is tune them himself. Needless to say they don't sound well when anyone else tries to play them. One day, one day.


When the simple birthday decorations came down, bit by bit, the days get shorter and the evenings become drawn out and warm - it is then that some of our favourite decorations began to emerge and adorn our walls again. Our home has become festive. cozy. Filled with the wonderfulness that is this season. And it is good. What a  treat to watch the children's faces as they get all excited and giggly and full of memories as we pull strings from boxes and speak of years gone by. For all of us to be witness to these two small boys be utterly thrilled over something as simple as coloured lights on a string is just such a sweet gift in and of itself. Then again, we all are excited over them - because the lights on a string are sparkly, beautiful, and somehow even a bit magical.

Somehow more than any other season of the year, I simply love bringing beautiful, simple and rustic things indoors. They make my heart happy.

Papa languishing in a delicious midday nap with the littlest pumpkin.

We saw some of these pretty, feathery Christmas-tree decorations in a store for over $20 each. As I have several times before, decided I could do that myself... thinking they would be inexpensive and simple to make. Funny thing is - they were. My girl and I sat one afternoon, glue-guns in hand, music a-playin', and stuck feathers to curled and curved bristol-board taped into cone shapes and voila! Feathery, dreamy, white homemade Christmas trees to adorn our mantle. Not bad for supplies we had on hand at home free!

The sunshine has been a frequent visitor these days, a presence for which I feel extremely blessed. The littlest bubby has been discovering his shadow, and sparkles, and sunbeams. 

This hand rolled book-page paper wreath was both a interest idea and an idea borrowed from my friend Angie's home... hers looks much more fabulous above her mantle than mine does here.

One night's all-of-a-sudden snowfall was an unexpected white Christmas surprise... there were many children's faces peering out blackened windows into the glow of streetlights, hoping the flakes would last until morning.

Last they did, out the children went, small snowmen were made, large snowballs were rolled, and three children got very muddy and very, very wet. This mama forgot to take out the camera. *sigh*

Thank you, Opa and Grandma Luyt! Here are some shots of the kids enjoying part of their birthday presents!

My girl and I have been busy in the kitchen. She is in love with all that is helping and pouring and mixing and creating... and many new treats have come from our oven and our hands this season. Jacob is in love with helping, too. His favourite is measuring flour.

Christmas 2011. 

And now we are sending the biggest boy off to his youth group Christmas party at church, and the rest of our clan are off to see the drive-through living Nativity. 

family. warm. happy. home. fabulous. 

Have a fantastic weekend. May you enjoy decking your halls as much as we do. 

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