Hello and Merry Christmas!
Yes, we say it every year and we’ll say it again. . .the year has flown by! We’re having a hard time believing it is 2013 already. As we wrap up the year, we’ve been thinking about the past twelve months and what has happened in our family. So. We took a look back at our blog and here’s a few journal entries that made us laugh. . .
Yesterday afternoon was a good one.. .It was a little bit like magic. I was thinking that when we have a night like that, I better write it down. Not that we’re that un-fun all the time, it’s just hard to find a day when we’re all feeling sparkly at the same time. When that happens? Magic.
(In an ongoing effort to keep things real around here,
I’ll just say that Saturday wasn’t quite so magical. The girls weren’t feeling the magic. At all. Suffice it to say that Ryenne and Kate ended up spending the day in their bedroom. Together. Really, all day. Like the ten-hours-lunch-delivered-to-your-bedroom kind of all day. ‘Cuz if you can’t be friends then I’ll just stuff you into a 12x12 space ‘til you figure it out, that’s what I say. And judging by the silly videos the girls made while they were in purgatory, I’m pretty sure they figured it out.)
The other day Ryenne told me that she was in the process of memorizing a poem and was almost finished. I immediately had visions of Robert Frost. . .Actually it wasn’t very Robert Frost-ish at all:
Yesterday Emmy told her dad and I the latest news from the first grade, speaking in her million-words-a-minute style. “Mom. Dad. Yesterday this boy in my class wrote this note to my friend, and the note said, ‘You are so beautiful to me. Can I have your phone number please?’” With her juicy bit of news spilled out, she nodded and reaffirmed, “He said that. He really did.”
Her dad responded with the appropriate (and hoped for) shock and awe. “Wow. That’s heavy stuff.” And then he doled out his own bit of advice to his girl. “Okay, Em. If you get a note like that, here’s what you do. You write one back that says this: “1-800-forget-about-it.”
Of course, Emmy’s eyes sparkled. I’m pretty sure she can’t wait to try it out.
Claire cut her hair again the other day. Yup, she’s kicking my pants, that one. I had taken the oldest three to see Romeo and Juliet, (which they said was “awesome, but it would be better if they could just speak in English”). When I returned home, Courtney mentioned in passing that the scissors and multiple chunks of blond hair on the table were due to Claire’s most recent haircutting adventure (third time in six months). The best part is that after she cut it, she came to him- hair in hand with the scissors behind her back telling him, “Uh, Dad. Some of my hair just kind of fell off my head.” Ohhhhh, Claire.
I live in a circus. Life is good.
Apparently there is no end to the joy I find in slave working my children. Yesterday as I was enlisting some help in restoring some sort of order around this joint, Emmy complained (LOUDLY, I might add), “I thought summer was for spending time with our family, and all you do is make us work all day!”
. . .And then this morning, as she was wearing her little fingers to the bone loading silverware into the dishwasher she pronounced, “I’m going to go CRAZY because all we ever do is WORK!”
She’s right. These girls are so useful to have around. I’m so glad I’ve got ‘em so I can lounge around and watch soap operas all day.
This afternoon, Emmy threw up, forcing me to cancel her piano lesson (and she had actually practiced this week. The shame!) Instead, I ran Kate to her piano lesson and should have listened better as Claire rolled around the back seat, moaning about her stomach hurting. She had refused to eat lunch today because Cheetos were not on the menu, so I just figured . . .well, it doesn’t matter now anyway. That’s because before I realized that I should have listened to her she started throwing up. I’m pretty sure she threw up a gallon or so.
. . .Oh, and in between all the throwing up episodes, Sam just happened to call 9-1-1. Which means the police came to my door mid-chaos. You know, just to make sure we were all alive and such. Hopefully we presented a believable picture. What is the luck that those numbers would have rolled off his chubby little fingers? I’m thinking Sam the Man is our lucky-ticket-to-winning-the-lottery kid.
Courtney called just as I was cleaning the car and I had to tell him too bad for him. Cuz he was missing all the excitement, you know.
This pretty much sums up our year. Sometimes sad, sometimes mad, (and always CRAZY!) - But we’re sure lucky to have each other and are so grateful for the hundreds of tender mercies our Heavenly Father sends our way. We love you all and wish you a very MERRY Christmas!