The Polar Express

A few years ago, our family met Jen and her family at Disneyland for four days of splendiferous fun.  It was the first time I had been back since I was five years-old and the first time for Seth, Sam and Henry. It was the perfect trip, except for one thing: my kids knew the Disney story to only about 25% of the rides.

Maybe it was higher than that but probably not.  My sister was appalled at their lack of knowledge about most rides, characters and attractions.  They knew all about Toy Story Mania but were either fuzzy on the details about Tarzan, Bambi, Peter Pan, Fox and the Hound, Alice In Wonderland, the Haunted Mansion or were completely clueless.  And none could tell one princess from another.

It didn't really matter.  They loved the rides and the music and had a happy time at the happiest place on earth but I became aware of how different their childhood is from my own.  I loved watching Disney movies growing up, but I am not one of those adults who continues to love watching Disney movies.  Really, the reason is that they watch sports.  That's what they know.

It felt like our week at Disneyland all over again when I decided to have our family participate in some Christmas magic.  Again, they are sorely deprived of most Christmas magic fiction. Henry is a total believer but I believe most of his knowledge about Santa and elves comes from school traditions.  Seth and Sam constantly wink at me when discussing stockings and nice and naughty lists.  Regardless of our magic less home, I got tickets to ride The Polar Express a few days before Christmas.  We finally got snow and it was cold and we have a train in the middle of our downtown.  No excuse, really, for not doing it sooner.

Of course, none of my kids knew the story.  Henry had gone to a birthday party a week earlier whose mom had the movie playing in the background in case some kids didn't want to participate in the games so he had a rough idea of a train and hot chocolate being served.   This time, it was Maureen who was appalled.  She basically is Peter Pan and loves Disney and magic and fun.  The Polar Express is in my library of Christmas books so we read it before our big ride but, basically, the whole night was an introduction to the story.

It was fun.  I think I may have had the most fun of all thanks to Jay having Daniel the entire night.   Henry was thrilled to wear his pajamas.  I had to force Seth and Sam to change out of shorts and wear something pajama-ish.  We waited for the train to arrive in the freezing cold and when the coal powered train arrived in its plume of smoke, I think I squealed.

The ride itself was a little bit boring. Not to me but I know Henry struggled.  The train didn't depart until 8:30 pm so he was already tired and the mug of hot chocolate kept him happy for about five minutes.  The chocolate chip cookie may have given him another 5 more but he wasn't paying attention to the story being played over the speakers in the car.  When we arrived at the North Pole, we waved at Santa and Mrs. Claus from our train car and then sang Christmas carols on the way home.  I sat with Seth so my job was easy.  He speaks Sarcastic as his primary language so the magic wasn't really there but he kept assuring me it was in his best mocking twelve year-old voice.  Jay had Sam and Daniel and from my vantage point, was struggling a little but mostly doing well.  Maureen had Henry and he totally perked up with the singing.  He loves to sing!  But, the magic came alive when Santa walked in the car. Henry was mesmerized.  How much fun is it to have a child who believes in Santa with his whole heart?  OK, if I really think about it, I feel troubled but really, I just enjoy his awe.

When Santa asked Seth what he wanted for Christmas, he looked right at me and said he wanted the KD5 basketball shoes because he "really believed" and I just smiled back.  I'm not sure what the other boys said as I was too far away but I tried to capture their faces with my camera phone.  Night picture taking is so hard for me!

I'm not sure if the entire evening would have been better had their childhoods been immersed with The Polar Express but I think them discovering the story on the train was pretty fun.  I know I loved it.  And, just like those Disneyland stories they never knew they didn't know....now they know about ringing bells too.

 The coal to power the train.  It was really cold this night.  I think only 3 degrees.

And it only took an hour, there and back!  Magic!

 So excited he can hardly stand it!

Getting warmth from knitted goods and facial hair ;-)

My DSLR started acting up and would not focus.  Not even with the flash.  I put it away and started using my camera phone.  Boo.

 Always ready for some Christmas fun!

Here it comes!
 It was this boy's critical year.  He had stopped believing!

Our yummy (but lukewarm) hot chocolate.

 Seriously...he's texting.  Luckily, I didn't even have to be the bad guy and say, "Put your phone away."  The chefs came by and said there was no reception at the North Pole.  I'm pretty sure he was letting his friends know about how lame his parents were for making him go on the Polar Express.  I reminded him that this was his critical year!

The frost on the window pane.  I had to get my debit card out to scrape it off.

 Santa on his sleigh at the North Pole.

But, now he's on our very own train car!

 Daniel is curious....

But, ultimately totally freaked out by this scary looking guy.  You can't really see his face but he is screaming.  Still, Henry looks awfully cute here.

Sam

 I think they elves were a little tired that night.  One muttered as Santa walked back and stopped for a picture, "Santa is definitely not camera shy."  I chuckled because I don't think she/he/it meant for anyone to hear.

Our chefs delivering our commemorative mugs and songbooks.

 Daniel doesn't mind checking him out now that he is gone.

Seth says, "I hear it ringing!  I believe!"

 A couple of reindeer on break, I guess.

Our family.  We believe!  (Especially Henry).

No More Baby

It's official.  Daniel, you are one and walking and eating and trying to talk and tantruming and the baby that was once you is pretty much gone.  You're still in diapers (the thought of maybe only having one more year of diapers is exciting and probably extremely unlikely if you're anything like your brothers) and still get a bottle or two a day but you can drink from a sippy cup, though it's not your favorite design. Really, you prefer when you can get a hold of a water bottle or, even better, a real cup that can dump water on your entire chest!

The other night, while I was feeding you a bottle and rocking you before bed, the poem about cobwebs and babies not keeping popped into my head.  You were exceptionally drowsy this evening and your eyelids had already started their pre-sleep flutter and you had stopped sticking your index finger in between my lips and strumming the bottom one like a string on a guitar.   Every so often, I feel overwhelming nostalgia for the present moment of your littleness.  I consider it a tender mercy as I guiltily admit feeling a bit of glee and relief with every tool of independence you discover.  I want so much to enjoy every day of you and hope I've done my best.  I suppose what I'm trying to say is it feels weird to simultaneously want to stop time while feeling excited about your constant parade of new tricks.

It almost feels dishonest writing this one-year letter to you two weeks late.  Two weeks ago, you were walking but with that Frankenstein stance.  Now, you not only walk everywhere you need to go but you've figured out how to crawl your way onto the living room furniture, open doors using the door handle, use sign language to let me know when you want milk and climb into the dishwasher if the door is open.  Two weeks ago, you had a mouthful of front teeth but now, you have a molar! By tomorrow, you may have two!  You can seriously eat steak.  From milk to meat....just like that!

You are busy.  You are charming.  You are one!

As far as the actual birthday went, you had no idea the day was special until after we got home from piano lessons.  We picked up a balloon from City Market and it quickly deflated.  An hour after these pictures were taken, it was flat on the floor.  Cheap!  Next time, we're going to Albertsons!  Still, you loved it and I think having something shiny and floating in your direct line of sight was extra fun for you.

Later, when we were getting ready for presents and cake, we found you causing a bit of trouble with your brother's basketball.  You really, really like bouncing that ball.  And, I know you've seen them shoot it into a round hole and everyone getting really excited about it.  Not this hole, buddy.  Sorry.

Sam got you a popcorn popper with his own money and you love it, although you preferred to get it to make the popping sound by sitting down and rolling it back and forth on the floor.  Since your birthday, your six year-old older brother has shown you how fast that pop can really go.  Really, really fast.  So fast a certain six year-old has been banned from pushing the popper.

Aunt Patty and Delanie came over and gave you some sweet new books to read.  Two weeks ago, you could have cared less.  But, how quickly things change.  Now, sitting on a lap and pointing to things can hold your attention for at least 3 minutes.  Improvement!

Mom thought it would be fun to get a push wagon for my new little walker.  You could have cared less until a few weeks ago.  Now, your brothers put you inside the wagon and push you WAY too fast around the house.  Amazing how quickly a perfectly safe looking toy can be used for dangerous activities when you've got older brothers to show you the way.

I made a gluten-free cake for the celiacs and bought a cake-boss cake for you.  You really didn't care for it.  You didn't touch it much with your hand and when I put a slice on the tray of your high chair, you whined until I got you a fork.  Not safe but....well...that's just how we roll around here.



For the grandparents.  He unwraps this present for forever but the singing of the birthday song is right after.  I am really not that good at editing videos and I don't know how I meshed them together.

Henry had to help you blow out the candle.

Sam made sure you knew what to do with the cake.

We thought about assembling the wagon that night but our assembler was talking to his parents at the table so we were satisfied with the task of putting the square blocks in and out of the box.

We got that push wagon set up and you like to take the blocks out and put them back in.  And, boy, are you ever cute in this picture!!

We had your one year well-child check up and you weigh 24 lbs 2 oz (66%), were 31.3 inches tall (86%) and measured 48.2 cm around your big brain (91%.  Look at the size of that noggin!)  For extra fun, they kept us in that small exam room for an hour waiting for the three immunizations you needed.  I had lots of fun keeping you out of their cupboards full of needles and medical devices and garbage cans full of who knows what.

No?

What's that?  (Nice try, buddy)

Still no?

Welcome to the non-zero club, Daniel.  I'm so looking forward to your life!

Love,

Mom

Sixteen

When Daniel decided to trump our anniversary with his birth last December 19th, I honestly wondered if we'd ever really celebrate our anniversary again. Oh, I figured we'd do things here and there and call them anniversary activities but fifteen previous Decembers had taught me that anniversaries often seem underwhelming in a month already overfull of Christmas activities. Now that the baby of our family needed some non-holiday attention and festivity, commemorating our mid-semester marriage seemed even more unlikely.

My pessimistic attitude was completely unnecessary this year. Jay arranged with his mother to come and take care of Daniel and thanks to some desperately needed snow in our area, we took off the morning of the 18th for a day of skiing and a night of soaking in some nearby natural hot springs. Even though the weather was truly frightful and the snow was less than ideal for a safe skier like me (I'm not much of a powder fan and with 12 new inches of snow, that's pretty much all there was), we still had a ball together.

The child-free day with my husband doing something we both enjoy, followed by a lovely dinner and post-meal soak in 105-110 degree hot springs were reason enough to declare our sixteenth anniversary a success. I'm appreciative of the quality time (a love language that is creeping up my priority list) and the help from my mother-in-law. The beautiful black and white diamond bracelet gift that was just too small for my big-boned wrists to keep goes down as the most extravagant and "wow" anniversary present Jay has ever thought to give.

What I wish to always remember about our sixteenth anniversary, however, is how we put away our various distractions, focused on each other, and how wholly in love I felt with my husband. This seems so cheesy to write but, after sixteen years, that feeling of utter contentment brought tears to my eyes. I am so full of flaws and I'm so, so aware of them. Sometimes, that awareness can make me feel unlovable. So, diamond bracelet or no, ski trip or no, even my favorite past time of hot water soaking or no, I know that my husband loves me, in spite of me, and I'm grateful. Marriage is a dynamic union and I've learned over the years that sometimes, things are easy and great and sometimes...things aren't. What a gift to have that kind of quality time with someone I'm bound to forever and know that even after sixteen years, there are still moments of marital perfection. That gives me great hope for our future.



The wintry drive to Wolf Creek Ski area.



Us on the chairlift.  Yes, Jay has a mustache.



Our lovely fancy dinner.  Jay had a rib-eye steak and I had lamb chops with a sweet fruit chutney.  Yes, Jay has a mustache.


This is a stock photo as I dared not bring my phone with us around all the water but there are over 20 different thermal pools to soak in.  We stayed for over 2 hours until we were heated through and through.  We went to bed happy and smelling of sulfur.  Quelle romantique!

Some Busy December Therapy

It's snowing! Yay! Except, now the driveway needs to be shoveled and I remember that I don't have four-wheel drive and have to go down a steep, windy hill in order to get to town and my main occupation as a mother of four is to drive little people around.  So....snow.  Yay.  

Seth can't be bothered with warm things like pants and coats.  It would cover up the awesome Nike Elite socks he is so proud of and he might not be able to "air shoot" a basketball in restricting pants.  Must have baggy basketball shorts on for that, even if there is almost six inches of snow outside now.  Oh, to be in 7th grade.

I have done absolutely nothing this week.  As I type, I am sitting at my broken iMac (Henry broke the commuter...surprise, surprise) in my winter nightshirt and slippers.  I know this is because I have my busiest weekend ever coming up, not to mention the week following that includes our anniversary, Daniel's first birthday, the arrival of my sister for the holidays, the 4-H club Christmas party, and all of the presents to organize and wrap.  This weekend, I have to bring gluten-free offerings to the ward Christmas party, play the piano at the party, make program copies for the Sunday music fireside (this program has taken me hours and hours to make as I have never done anything on Pages and it was not nearly as intuitive as Steve Jobs thought it was), have our primary program (I am no longer YW president.  I kept intending to write a long-winded post about how that ended and now I am in the primary presidency and ward choir director but it has never happened so....I am in the primary presidency and ward choir director!) bring homemade lunchables for primary activity/sharing time following program, have a short choir practice following church to run through music with new accompanist, flute player and violin before the evening performance.  Bring cookies for fireside refreshments.  Play for string ensemble.  Sing a solo.  When my brain is full of these kinds of to-dos, I almost shut-down in the days before hand.  I think it's a coping mechanism because I am not one of those people who thrives on being busy.  I can get it all done but not without some major meditation in advance.

Messy house.  Pajamas.  In real time:)

It just....fell over. Onto the floor.  While Henry was playing Angry Birds. 

Daniel is kind of walking.  He initiates walking all day long but still hasn't mastered it as a mode of transportation.  He has figured out stairs, both going up and coming down on his belly, feet first, so there really isn't anywhere he can't go.  This means there are lots and lots of messes everywhere now, instead of just downstairs.

I am not going to be on Facebook for two weeks.  It is my cooling off period because after all of the election posting, from BOTH sides, which I suffered through (everyone has a right to their opinion, after all) even though all of the "You're wrong!" tied me up in knots, now I am being tortured by posts featuring both those intending to wear pants because a woman has yet to pray in general conference and those who can't imagine anyone could ever feel unequal in a pretty dress.  Can I just say that I wish I were a man right now?  Not because they have the priesthood and not because they get to pray all the live long day in general conference but because women are crazy.  And kind of mean.  I really wish I could just stay home this Sunday and not have to wear or not wear pants but it's the primary program and fireside.  I'm a victim!

Seth and Sam had a piano duet recital last Saturday.  I am a vocal advocate of piano recitals.  In my opinion, they are the games to practice and the tests to homework.  It's a means to measure progress under pressure.  Huge fan!  But, I am not a huge fan of overlong recitals.  The boys' piano teacher has participated in a few area-wide piano recitals lately and while I can understand the theory behind it (combining all of the students from seven different teachers.  You get a larger audience, a wider variety of music and ability) I don't think any non-professional or very good semi-professional production needs an intermission.  It was an hour and a half long.  An hour and a half...in a concert hall....with Daniel and Henry.  Hell!  And this was as long as Seth and Sam's number was.  It was too easy for both of them and so it actually got messier the more they played it because they kept going too fast.  Duets are a challenge!  Anyways, as I obviously have no backbone when it comes to speaking with the piano teacher, this may go as another unreported grievance.  Although, I may say this one out loud because it's not against her personally.  Maybe.

So much other stuff to say but I'll stop here.  Life's good.  Expensive....but good.  I'll post again soon.  This was very therapeutic.

Book Review #46 - The Language of Flowers

I realize no book can do all things but I also think a book can do more than one thing. The Language of Flowers is a beautiful book. With its imagery and description of beautiful flowers, not to mention the inclusion of every noted flower's victorian definition, it's easy to believe in the power of roses,jonquils and even thistles. It's easy to enjoy this story about a broken, abandoned girl who communicates with flowers and begins to discover her own worth and strength by using her talents to help others. Most of me wanted to believe in all of the blossoming magic.

But, I didn't. Maybe that's unfair.

Victoria is a victim of abandonment, never knowing who her biological parents were or why they left her to the care of the government but her journey through foster families reveals the sometime ugly realities of the system. At times starved, emotionally manipulated, and continually rejected by family after family, Victoria seems a textbook case of someone suffering from attachment disorder. When she is finally placed in the care of a loving woman who wants her and suffers through all of Victoria's attempts of sabotage, her future seems to finally have the possibility of a happy ending. From the very beginning of the story, however, we know something didn't work out. The novel uncovers the unhappy story, chapter by chapter, weaving between her newly independent adult life and the flashbacks through her childhood, mostly during her time with a woman named Elizabeth who teaches her about flowers and wine grapes and life.

There is enough realism in the narration that the unrealistic parts of the book distracted me. Who are these secondary characters in Victoria's life that seem too good to be true? Is it possible that someone with as severe emotional problems as Victoria can really function at a job? Or have a relationship with a man? I'm not implying that the author made it easy for Victoria. On the contrary, the author repeatedly highlighted Victoria's difficulty in each of these life developments. Some of the details her moments of despair made my stomach church with sympathy and pain. What was missing was the difficulty of the other characters. Weren't they outraged by her behavior? Weren't they turned off by her appearance, her deception, her almost feral behavior around food? I want to believe that there are people who are blessed with patience in abundance and who are ambassadors to help rehabilitate these poor, love-starved souls and I do believe that they exist. I just want to know about them too. I was disappointed by getting a little bit of Elizabeth's story and motives but never really getting to know her. I never understood her connection to Victoria, a connection that was vital to believing the story.

Ultimately, I think the author became a bit too focused on sharing the language of flowers and left out some critical development to the more interesting human story. I just wanted...more.

Book Review #45 - The Time Keeper

I struggle with the kinds of books whose objective is to moralize a topic or instruct. Non-fiction sorts such as Self-help, parenting, dieting and how-tos are the obvious sources of trouble but Mitch Albom's type of fiction fits in this category too. This type of book, which promises a better life for me if I only read and agree, always seem more attractive until I am sitting down with the book open in my hands and then I am either bored or bothered.

I have thought a lot about it and have concluded that the reason for my prejudice is I don't want a book to think for me (how's that for circular logic?) I think my favorite hobby, even more beloved than reading, is thinking. I love to think. I am perfectly happy to sit in a quiet car or room and ponder. I think that's why I love fiction and literature so much is because while the author may be moralizing or instructing, I have to do my part...thinking...in order to figure it out.

Mitch Albom doesn't seem to trust me enough to let me do that. I haven't read much of his work but after finishing The Time Keeper, I felt cajoled into thinking what HE wanted me to think. Time is precious! Moments matter! Um...yeah. I sort of already thought that.

But, then I got kind of confused. Because he used a fable to make his point, I got lost at times in which was more important. Was it better to not pay attention to time? Or did paying attention to time make life more precious because time is finite? I may be thinking too hard about it.

Then, when all the preaching was said and done, I disagrees with him. I do not believe man is the inventor of keeping time. My own beliefs state that God separated the light from the darkness and called His work a day. I also disagree with the idea that that man must die in order to enjoy memories or moments as if the finite quality of earth time is a superior experience over eternity. That just does not make sense.

I'm probably over thinking it all. See, if you give it all away, then someone like me will try to ruin things by adding to or digging deeper to the already generously donated thoughts.

A nice idea of a book though.

Book Review #44 - Sweet Tooth

Love, then a bit of a disgust, then interest, then disappointment, then admiration. That was my emotions running the gauntlet while reading this book.
Honestly, there isn't an overall opinion from me about this book. Parts of it are really brilliant. Lots of parts. So...I guess I'm saying it's mostly brilliant except for the parts that aren't and those were rather horrible except now that I'm finished, I wonder if they were purposely horrible. Or something like that.

This is not your typical spy book. From its uncomfortable title (at least for me it is) to its female protagonist, none of Sweet Tooth seemed to fit the successful formula that is often used when writing about lies, espionage, The Cold War or the British secret service. I mean, the mission "Sweet Tooth" is about the government finding authors who hopefully have a right of center slant about the whole capitalism vs. communism ideology and then secretly funding them so that they can hopefully write a book that persuades the masses. Duh-duh-dum. What? You didn't gasp?

O.K. So there wasn't a lot of life and death on the line here but there was a lot of interesting human drama. From its look at the world from a woman's perspective in 1970 to the realization that Big Brother could be just about everywhere, McEwan manages to salvage what I feared was becoming a sappy and poorly done woman's take on spying with some fantastic McEwan-ing at the end. It was different. I liked it. Quite a bit.