Four days without a blog post feels really weird, but I’ve decided to take it slow for the rest of December. Still, I didn’t want to ring in New Years without saying something about Christmas. So… it was wonderful. And exciting. And exhausting. All rolled into one. I didn’t take 800 pictures like I did last year. Instead, I focused on enjoying time with my kids and relatives… not through the lens of a camera.
But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t take a few…
Business as usual on the day before Christmas, just like any other Saturday. Saws and screwdrivers humming in the garage.
Little boys with wii blinders on.
When Caleb comes inside for lunch we sit in the recliner together eating mint M&Ms and bombarding them with helpful advice.
“Shoot that flashy thing!”
“No use the force on it!”
“Get ‘em! Get ‘em!”
“Get ‘em faster!”
It gets them frazzled and mad at us. Which is really funny. Basically we aggravate our kids and then laugh about it. When did we get so cool?
Visions of lego men dancing in their heads tonight. Tucked into bed an hour past bedtime with instructions to not wake us until six.
Right.
And now here we are an hour away from Christmas day and we haven’t started wrapping yet. It feels like the beginning of a Christmas tradition. I love it.
Goodnight everyone.
overheard as I walked into the kitchen
Caleb: no
Jack: please?
Caleb: no
Jon: Peas?
Caleb: no!
Jack and Jon: Pleeeeeese?!
Me: What are they begging for?
Caleb: Cheetos for breakfast.
Caleb spent the latter half of last week home on leave. He severely needed a break and a chance to chill out but I’d been anticipating those few days for several weeks and I had to restrain myself from planning out every detail of every minute. Like I’m trying to make up for last year or something. Cue Buddy the Elf “First we'll make snow angels for a two hours, then we'll go ice skating, then we'll eat a whole roll of tollhouse cookie dough as fast as we can, and then we'll snuggle.”
Well… we snuggled and that was good enough.
And we sat in the elementary school on Friday and watched Jackson’s class (and a couple others) sing Silent Night.
I’ve never understood why parents make such huge deals out of these programs. But it was pretty much the coolest thing ever. And suddenly I get it.
The other thing we did: build fort hamp 2011. It’s one of our best traditions every year. Since Caleb was in Iraq last year I had to do fort construction by myself… and I am way not an engineer. This year Caleb delivered a much more impressive structure.
Caleb: So, what do you want to do about wrapping presents this year?
Me: How do you mean?
Caleb: The colors on the tree are kinda subtle… seems a shame to throw a bunch of bright red boxes underneath.
Me: So… are you saying you want to color coordinate the gifts with the tree?
Caleb: Basically yes.
Me: …
Caleb: But don’t tell anyone it was my idea.
Me: Oh, this is SO going on the internet.
Unless you’re a model and do it for a living, being photographed can be both awkward and intimidating. I totally get it. Being on that side of the camera immediately turns me into a clumsy mess. I forget where to put my feet and what to do with my hands. I stand there staring at Caleb with a blank expression that begs “Please, just tell me what to do!”
It doesn’t come naturally to me, but I still force myself to become the subject. Partly because Caleb’s photos completely thrill me. He doesn’t share my passion for photography, but he approaches it with an analytical mind and attention to detail. What he produces is technically correct and also artistic. The easiest way to get him to wield the camera is for me to be the willing subject. So yes, there’s that. But mostly I do it because I want the evidence. A few years down the road I want to remember what it was like to be 26. The length of my hair, the clothes I liked, my strengths, my weaknesses, who I was, and what made me.
Photos by Caleb
Eggnog Orange Cake – has nothing to do with this post
We live in a small town. An everyone-knows-everyone-and-their-brother sort of town. The kind with one red light and one postman and four elementary schools. Because hey, when harvest comes around where do you expect us to find our labor? The chickens don’t feed themselves.
I’m half kidding… promise.
We’ve lived in this small town for almost five years and I still feel like we don’t quite fit in. Mostly because Caleb works 20 miles away in one direction, and we go to church and do all our shopping in Georgia, the opposite direction. Pretty much the only thing we do in our town is The Walmart. And even that is an exercise in alienation. Especially after dark when everyone congregates in the pasta aisle for a family reunion in their pj pants and HELLO. Uncle Joe is finally here. Hugs all around and let’s get right to discussing Bubba Sam’s marriage to his cousin’s neighbor’s 2nd grade teacher. They’re distantly related, ya know.
It’s rough on someone who just wants to grab a box of linguini and get outta there. I come home and tell Caleb we’re not having alfredo tonight and he can blame the pajama clad traffic jam on aisle two.
And here’s where things get interesting, because as of August we don’t just do The Walmart anymore. We now also do The Elementary School. The East one. There are four, you recall. And this has made us suddenly more interested in fitting in around here. Because while I’m sitting in the parking lot of the East one waiting to pick up Jack, I observe the car in front of me roll down her window and fondly greet the descending window of the car next to hers. They laugh and share valuable tidbits of information and it occurs to me that my life might be easier were I in this circle.
For instance: Last week Jack came home from school needing a solid colored t-shirt by Friday. Him and every other elementary kid in town because by the time I got to The Walmart that afternoon there wasn’t a solid colored shirt to be found. The secret circle of carpool moms got the memo before I did. I ended up procrastinating for a few days and by Thursday night I’d waited until the absolute last minute. I dashed to the store, hoping they’d restocked some little boy t-shirts. In fact, I left the house without stopping to consider what I was wearing.
As I was pulling into The Walmart parking lot I called Caleb and was all “You aren’t going to believe this. Not only am I wearing pajama pants.. but also house slippers.”
There was a long pause and then “Haha! We’ve arrived!”
‘Tis the season for letting go of my clean kitchen. For finding joy in dough smudged into the rug. For sticky finger tracks across the counters. For cookies baked a little too close together. For oven watching. For compliments and for “these taste so good because I made them myself.”
ps. this is what happens when Caleb gets ahold of my camera:
Decorating for Christmas is always a turbulent activity for me. Without fail it takes me a week to get everything up, a week to tweak, a week to enjoy, a day to mope while I try to justify leaving it up until February, and then BAM. It’s over and I pack it all back into the attic.
So this year, to minimize the post-Christmas blues I tried to refrain from filling the house with red and green seasonal décor, and instead focused on winterizing the stuff we already had out. Is “winterizing” even a word? Dictionary says “to add antifreeze”. Well, anyway, in this case it means that aside from the tree ornaments, most of the décor can stay out well past Christmas. Until I’m good and sick of them. haha.
Stumps, stumps, STUMPS. My dad had a few large trees cut down out at the lake and each time we visit I leave with a new stump.
And this cedar branch, which I asked Caleb to hang over the table. And this is where our stories diverge.
What he said: “Okay, sure. Just let me know where you want it.”
What I heard: Oh great. I’d love to eat my dinner with a gnarly branch hanging over my head. Best idea EVER.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t say it out loud, but his face was screaming it. Good news is, he trusts me and usually goes along with all my schemes and after a day or two he admitted he really likes the branch. Weird decorating scores again. Fist pump!
Today we finally had a reprieve from all the gloomy, gray days so Jon and I opened all the windows in the house and soaked up the sun for as long as we could. We’ve occupied ourselves with a million crafty projects the past few days. I chose a burlap “garland” for the tree this year and wanted a few other burlap bits to complement it. But we arrived at my usual fabric store to find them completely cleaned out. Not a scrap of burlap on the shelves. So after scouring a few more places we finally found some in stock at Jo-ann. I panicked and bought 4 yards instead of the 1/4 yard I was originally after. I’ve made burlap wreaths, burlap roses, burlap ornaments. If I could figure out how to make stockings, I probably would.
And I got way off topic.
Actually, this post is about this:
Well, not this book exactly. But one just like it. One that used to be at my Memaw’s house. Growing up, it was my favorite and when Jack and Jon got old enough to enjoy it, she sent it to live at our house. During that time it’s been loved to death… literally. It gradually lost the cover and then a few of the pages. Eventually I confiscated it and have been trying to figure out how to “fix” it.
Enter brand new book found on ebay. (Photo above). Using a few small frames and some hot glue, I turned my favorite pages from the old book into ornaments.
This is one of my favorites, the tortoise having a picnic under a blue umbrella.
A suspendered mole watches the race.
I borrowed a piece of fur from the closet to finish the tree.
And now for some hot cocoa.
Happy Thursday.
