Goal Post

Skater Girl was asked to come up with some goals for the remainder of the year. She sat at the kitchen table writing out her bullet points last night, but abandoned the task to put away laundry. The laundry led her to the pantry for a snack. Then she was distracted by the cat. Finally, it was bedtime. With her tucked into bed, I looked over the list.

The change in handwriting does not indicate a psychotic break on the part of Skater Girl. Her daddy just added his suggestions to the list. Skater Girl drew the line this morning along with an unpleasant notation for her sister to resist adding to the list. She sat muttering while recreating the list of goals sans ninjas and kitten rescue. It seemed like a good idea to point out that the additions were in the Mister's handwriting before things went any further. This list will not be presented to the skate coaches, but they would probably appreciate it.

Questioning

Last night, the Waits came to dinner. Despite a coffee with Laura during one of Skater Girl's Saturday workshops and a trip to the rink for the Waits offspring to skate, there was much to catch up on and discuss. Even with the evaporation of hours, it seems like we scarcely touched the tip of the conversational iceberg. Not unlike a doctor's appointment, there were many questions regarding their ministry in Puerto Lempira that went unasked as well as tidbits about their family, daily life, and mutual friends and acquaintances. (That can all be fodder for e-mail and blog surfing in the future.) The dangers of too little time, and the best sort of visit that leaves one wishing for more at the close.

One of those intriguing topics with Laura was her questioning why people sometimes feel the need to trot out justifications for purchases, possessions, behaviors, etc. with her. (Ah, my humble friend...) She isn't the sort of puffed-up person to recognize how the comparable lack of material things in the family's life challenges those who know them. It's not that they do not wish for, enjoy, or acquire stuff, but they did sell everything to head off to the relative wilds in service to others. Shedding the creature comforts and excesses inherent in an area that has been relatively unscathed by the recent economic downturn is going to bring about some justification. Justification not born of any real or imagined judgment on Laura's part necessarily, but out of questions that one might ask oneself when faced with the cost in time, money, and energy to maintain the suburban dream while seeking Christ.

This opinion is formed of experience in giving consideration to life and priorities between their home and our own. Having known the family in their American Dream achieving days and experiencing some of the trepidation felt by Laura regarding the transition to their big adventure, there is much to admire in the changes they chose to embrace on discovering God's call. Comparison of the relative cost of a child's sponsorship providing education and basic necessities to the far more frivolous expenses of a pretty dress for Middle Child or the scheduled time devoted to the rink with the fluid daily work of Reach Out Honduras helps to put our use of resources in a perspective that can be lost in the bounty of Plenty. By living with Enough (or less), the Waits gift our family (and apparently others) with the opportunity personal examination in a light that can bring about purposeful giving, personal appreciation of what one possesses, and temperance of excess.

Good News

Good News:
1. I'm not pregnant. (I know you were sweatin' that one.)
2. Tornadoes failed to carry off our house, and the termites have yet to take it down.

Speaking of good news, Sunday was Easter. We dressed up, went to church, and then crept around the side of the local nursery to take pictures with the daughters muttering about, "... getting busted," for being there when the business was closed. We were in the parking lot- hardly breaking and entering. We were not arrested, or even interviewed, for trespassing though there were two patrol cars in the very next parking lot. (Living dangerously!) Still, in keeping with the times, we should definitely post the pictures of our illicit visit online.

Easter Dress... and to the back left... stacks of mulch.

I see the woman she is becoming so clearly in this image.

This is what the mister and Perfect did while the assorted females were dress shopping.

Okay, so the last one wasn't part of our wild (*cough*) photo shoot at the nursery. It also has nothing to do with Redemption, Easter, or Jesus. Oh, wait... the ladies were shopping for Easter dresses. So, there you go.

Deja Vu

The final week of March, 2000 was memorable. My feisty Mammy passed away on that last Sunday on the mister's and my sixth wedding anniversary. The very next day, we discovered a termite infestation in Old House. On the heels of the termite news, we loaded up our littlies and hit the road headed to West Texas for Mammy's memorial ahead of strong storms causing tornadoes to touch down around the metro area. That particularly disastrous week ended with an allergic reaction that landed me in the E.R. Seriously.
Then again, that E.R. visit resulted in a batch of labs based on symptoms that seemed unrelated to the allergic reaction, but might have been a result of the stress of the preceding days. The results led to our family doctor opting to make a phone call on Saturday, April 1st that was no joke rather than waiting for Moday to let his nurse report the findings. All of the tumult ended with the (Surprise!) news that we were expecting Skater Girl.
This week we have Middle Child's BFF#1 staying with us after a death in her family over the weekend had her parents leaving the state for the service. Yesterday, I noticed a weird thing on the wall next to the fridge. Today, I whacked at the thing with the mister looking on in case I needed to run screaming. Sure enough, the whacking revealed (Crud. Crud. Crud.) termites hiding in the wall of New House. I scheduled the termite guy to come visit Thursday since I'll be stuck home for my infusion anyway. (The same infusion that I have an allergic reaction to every time. Awesome.) We're currently monitoring tornadoes touching down in the metro area.
Who knows... the way things are going, I'm developing a certain level of concern that I could make medical history winning myself and my doctor a place in the medical journals by turning up pregnant despite a hysterectomy.

Backtracking

Yesterday I was almost early for breakfast with friends. I say, "almost," because I stopped the car to add a few songs to a play list. (New Car plays my iTunes through the speaker. This is brilliant. Maybe even better than airbags because I use it more. That opinion will probably be reversed if I ever do have occasion to use those air bags. Anywho.) After adding to that playlist, I looked up to discover it had somehow been a half hour. And I was now late.
Since this is not really a new thing, the friends were not shocked. They were very gracious about my tardiness. No one pointed out how incredibly inconsiderate it is to be late. We had a lovely breakfast, and then they headed off to work and physical therapy while I walked down to the Hallmark store to pick up cards for the April birthdays and anniversaries. My "Cope" and "Encouragement" cards were also depleted, so there was a desire to re-stock the Sucks-to-be-You stationery. Armed with the calendar that lives in my phone, it was a relatively quick shopping trip.
With a little time to spare, I made a call to my Dad to see how a doctor's appointment had gone the day before while heading over to the market for produce. The call was short, but the shopping was excellent. Blueberries for $.88. (Be still my heart...) A rainbow of peppers on sale. Oooh, and Pink Lady apples... The pineapple smells yummy. All sorts of good things made it to the check out to be hauled out to the car.
Except that my newly awesome play list didn't kick in... and my phone was nowhere to be found even though I knew I had it since the conversation with my Dad ended after I walked into the market. Back in the store, retracing the path back through the check stand produced nothing. Wandering through the produce trying to remember if I used both hands to inspect the pineapple or pick through the blueberries produced more nothing. Finally, the workers putting out still more fruit and vegetables asked if I needed help. One headed off to see if a phone had been turned in while the other explained to me how to use the GPS tracking feature to find my missing piece of technology. Fortunately, the explanation was short-lived since someone had in fact turned in my phone.
Back at the car, I found a host of messages and missed calls. Not only had I left my phone somewhere in the market, but my reusable coffee cup was still at the Hallmark store. (This is the real reason why I have a reward card there... it's listed under my phone number.) The Hallmark ladies had been trying to call so I could return for my cup of now cold coffee. Backtracking seemed to be the order of the day.
It was likely nothing short of a miracle that I managed to remember the way home, though "Where Is My Mind," (added during that little pre-breakfast stop) was an entirely appropriate song to have playing along the way.

Pop

My mother-in-law and I both celebrate February birthdays. This morning she called to wish me a happy one. I thanked her for the cute new shoes I picked out courtesy of birthday funds she supplied. (A pair of loafers just right for wearing with jeans.) My birthday shoes made her laugh. Well, not mine specifically, so much as birthday shoes in general. Apparently, she, too, could have been the recipient of a pair of birthday shoes.
My sister-in-law and her preschool-age son were out shopping when the little guy saw the perfect birthday gift for his Gram. His mama snapped a photo of the goody in question:

Holy Hallelujah. I guess J. is a little young to understand that Southern ladies of a certain age do not typically wear stripper shoes. Those babies would certainly have qualified as a pop of color, though. I've been giggling all day at the thought of my mother-in-law teetering down the aisle at church on a Sunday morning in her blingy could've-been birthday shoes.

Illustrated

Skater Girl's 5th Grade class has been talking about point of view. The class, who have been steeped in Stranger Danger warnings from a very early age, found the whole idea of third person point of view disturbing. I failed to understand why they were concerned even after the teacher's example story of a family eating dinner that included the parents and children for first person and an observer for third person was related. Skater Girl literally drew me a picture as an explanation:

Point of View Illustration By Skater Girl

Resolute

A friend asked about New Year's resolutions the other day. My response was that none were being made in our household. At some point, there once were annual vows to lose weight, make healthier dietary choices, and the various other typical resolutions. These personal goals seemed to be made with the best of intentions, but they rarely lasted beyond the first quarter of any given year.
At least it wasn't just us, at least, not based on the overflow in local gym parking lots in January that tapered off by mid-February. That's not to say that all New Year's resolutions are doomed to failure. Middle Child's BFF #1 spent 2011 as a vegetarian for just such a resolution. So, knowing that some of those Good Ideas will succeed, why not make a New Year's Resolution? It's a simple enough premise: we set goals on an as-needed basis rather than to mark a date when the calendar resets. While there's validity in starting fresh on the first day of each new year, there is equal value in simply doing what needs to be done as time goes by to avoid having one big issue to confront as December departs.
2011 has been rife with recognition of opportunities for personal improvement:

• Making the trip in both February and June to Puerto Lempira to be part of the ministries there, and to continue to encourage our sponsor daughters. 
• Supporting Skater Girl's advancement through Basic Skills into Free Skate levels.
• The ongoing rehabilitation following my knee replacements remains a challenge.
• In the aftermath of an extended trip to Honduras, preparing for Skater Girl's first competition, and the initial period following the knee surgeries and recovery, there was a need to reconnect and rebuild many relationships allowed to go somewhat dormant over the Summer months.
• Spending hours amongst teenagers to be part of Middle Child's world (and finding that I share her love for the friends who are among the most important relationships she nurtures) rather than expecting her to conform to mine.
• Working out schedules to allow for the blocks of time necessary to make the trip to spend face-to-face time with the Boy. So, no, there's not really a specific New Year's resolution to be made.
• Daily making the commitment to the Mister's and my marriage.

There is more than enough to work on in the day-to-day.

Chained

Our church's Christmas decorations include a stage with a wall decorated in layers of paper chains. Using lights, the chains are made to look somewhat metallic, and the effect is pretty nifty. The finished result looks something like a textured painting filling the back wall. Here's a photo of the unfinished project from November:

Our family pitched in along with other volunteers the weekend before Thanksgiving to create lengths of paper chain that were used for the design. The task coincided with a certain truncated list of reasons to be thankful this year. Thinking of the list and the paper chains inspired an Idea. Each item included in The List is written on a strip of paper. Those strips become the base of a paper chain. Blank strips of paper, a marker, and the stapler are left out so that others may add links to the chain throughout Advent. On Christmas Day, our family can enjoy reading through the list to appreciate all the Good Stuff. Even The Boy will be able to participate from afar by calling in or mailing his additions. This could easily become an annual tradition.

Listing 2011, Part III

Thanksgiving was yesterday, but I'm continuing the list of things to be thankful for despite Black Friday:

50. I'm thankful for awareness:

Christmas Conspiracy from Christ Fellowship on Vimeo.

49. For the opportunities being offered through Reach Out Honduras that will open doors to those who live in need beyond what I have ever known.
48.  My son who has the potential to graduate from high school early if he can make the most of his opportunities.
47. Renewed relationships.
46. Giggling.
45. My mister. (He gets at least as many mentions as coffee... they're among my favorite addictions.)
44. Ally and Susan for backing up the theory that pumpkin pie is breakfast food.
43. Literacy.
42. Leftovers.
41. Being left-handed.

Creep

The mister suggests we add a vehicle like this to our driveway:

We can even put custom license plates that read, "CREEPN", on it. Our children have long referred to white vans as, "Creeper Vans" because every after school special and kiddie PSA on Stranger Danger throughout their early elementary years featured such a vehicle. The white cargo van is ultimately linked to strangers offering candy in the minds of my children.
With the Boy of legal driving age, and Middle Child right behind him, vehicles are a topic frequently considered and discussed around here. This weekend the mister saw a very reasonably priced white Econoline van offered  for sale locally. He and I found the potential hilarious. Our kids were less amused. Okay, Skater Girl thought it was funny, but she's several years behind her siblings; therefore, there's little risk that she would have an opportunity to drive the Creeper Van.

Eleven

Last year, we missed celebrating Skater Girl's tenth birthday on 10-10-10 because, while we were celebrating early with the ladies in the immediate family heading to Honduras the week after the actual birthday, the party centered around the theatrical release of a movie. This year, today would have allowed the celebration of Skater Girl's eleventh birthday on the ideal day for such an event. Except that the party is scheduled for tomorrow. (And she's not a Veteran...) Maybe next year we can celebrate Skater Girl's twelfth birthday in December. I should mark the calendar to ping me next October so we hold off on celebrating until 12-12-12... Maybe a Twelfth Night theme? Or maybe not...

Sync

Climbing into the car, my phone was passed along as Skater Girl, Middle Child, and MC's Best Friend Forever (BFF) took turns picking songs to play from my recently synced iTunes. Unfortunately, the sync was not discriminating, and everything I never wanted was included in the resulting playlists. Our iTunes account has been shared by the whole family for years. Years that included a love of the Jonas Brothers, a nasty case of Bieber Fever, and the download of movie soundtracks featuring Disney stars and the Chipmunks by the girl children. Eesh.
Stopping for gas gave the ladies an extended opportunity to peruse all their old favorites from the menu of songs. Perusal which ended with the Jonas Brothers defiling my speakers. Middle Child commented that she loved the bass in the car, and jokingly suggested that we turn up the volume and roll down the windows. She knows this is a behavior that her mother generally abhors. (I do not care what you listen to inside your vehicle, but please, please, please keep it contained inside rather than inflicting your musical taste on others.) BFF agreed with MC, and they nodded to one another and laughed at the idea. Their faces changed from amusement to surprise as the volume went up and the windows went down at the next stop light.
They laughed nonstop as the car rolled on with the Jonas Brothers playing. I mentioned that Middle Child's name was displayed on a decal plastered on the back of my car as we pulled up to the next light. This news just brought on more laughter from the high school set. They were thrilled to see plenty of drivers with their windows down so the awesomeness of whichever brother was singing could be heard by all. As we turned into the neighborhood, one of the girls discovered a Justin Bieber song with plenty of bass to boom out of the speakers.

Spying a pair of curious boys staring as we came to a stop sign, I slid down in the seat. One hand loosely slung over the top of the steering wheel, head bobbing to the beat, I proceeded up the street past the now incredulous boys. The girls in the car marked this new display of Mom Gone Mad with a brief moment of silence. Another pair of kids approached on scooters and joined in the gawking as we cruised past at half the speed limit. The teenagers were absolutely shrieking with laughter. Skater Girl was down low in the back seat trying unsuccessfully to avoid being seen by the kids stopped along the sidewalk.
Once BFF was dropped off at home, we rolled the windows back up and turned on much less obnoxious music. The remainder of the drive was punctuated by residual laughter. There was no laughter from Skater Girl.  She only expressed horror that our observers were all kids from her grade. While today is proof that I will likely never be a Cool Mom, that's fine. Being terribly, laughably uncool is just so much more fun.

Vegging

The mister's boss embraces a vegan lifestyle. Middle Child's best friend is a vegetarian. While the Boy and Middle Child would likely opt in for an all animal-based meal plan, Skater Girl's radar has gone up in response to the possibilities of a vegetarian diet. She's requested a week-long experiment with vegetarian menus. I suspect her carnivorous sister will launch a full-scale rebellion, but the idea holds interest. I suspect that this suggestion is not simply borne of curiosity about a couple of individuals' lifestyles, but also because of some recent community opportunities to increase awareness of hunger.

A couple of local churches have recently participated in programs intended to raise awareness and funds for hunger relief, and that has brough the topic of the financial and ecological costs of red meat in particular to our discussions. One church suggested eating only beans and rice for a week to gain understanding of what it's like for those at Village of Hope to receive beans and rice for every meal. The grocery savings likely for many American households can then be donated to Village of Hope. Several local youth groups have been participants in the 30 Hour Famine in order to experience hunger personally while raising funds for another group in Africa combatting hunger. Pleasant Suburban Elementary is focused on hunger closer to home as the school children collect cans of fruit this week to supply our local food pantry. The food pantry also participates in an annual program called, "Scare Away Hunger," where trick-or-treaters collect canned goods. These different means of responding to the looming problem of hunger each has merit, and each one has been a topic in our home.
Skater Girl has heard how more rescources are required to produce a serving of beef than would be required to produce a serving of grain, fruit, legumes, nuts, or vegetables. Maybe this ecological reality is on her mind? Or is she thinking of the children she met across town who rely on food stamps in order to eat most meals? Is she remembering those we met in Honduras who would not have had food to eat without the efforts of Reach Out Honduras and  Send Hope? Has she been listening to her mother's fussing over the grocery budget and comments regarding the lower cost of vegetarian meals? Did she overhear her dad saying that Oreos are vegan and ice cream is vegetarian? There's no telling what has ultimately influenced the request to experience a week of vegetarian dining. Whatever piqued Skater Girl's curiosity, it will make an interesting challenge to prepare meals to suit this family and meet their nutritional needs without meat. There is definite relief that she didin't ask for a Vegan Week.

Teeter Totter

After avoiding the procedures for a couple of years, both knees were partially replaced in July. A few weeks were blocked out for the recovery period. It turns out that the recovery period is more like several months. It's literally been baby steps from waking up post-op to discover that getting out of bed was going to be a Herculean task. In the past week or so, the final "assistive device" has been put aside almost all of the time. Without that cane, my gait is sometimes a bit off.
The mister says I look like I'm trying to sneak around. Assuming that the standard for, "sneaking around," is on par with a Scooby Doo cartoon villain that creeps about slowly with arms raised, he's pretty close in that assessment. Adding to the oddity, occasionally balance is lost and the creeping takes on a wheeling quality not unlike a small child playing at imitating an airplane or bird. Completing the picture, when tired, there's a lovely lurching gait when moving from place to place; otherwise, I just teeter a bit.

The family has taken to announcing that, "She's had both knees replaced recently." They figure this will prevent people from beginning to whisper that I drink. All the time. Because that's pretty much the appearance. When the Homecoming Date came in to meet us before taking Middle Child out for ice cream, he was informed twice because everyone wanted to make a good impression. As part of the rehab process, I've taken to walking a mile circuit through the neighborhood. Toward the end, not one, but two neighbor ladies were doing double-takes as I careened through the final two-tenths of the mile this morning. Awesome.

RSVP

The simple art of responding properly to an invitation has been lost. Fortunately, Little Bit's teacher is British. (Well, she's a U.S. citizen as of last month, but she got to keep her awesome British accent.) She has invited the whole fourth grade glass to dress smartly and attend a tea party in honor of Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding tomorrow. The class's homework assignment was to write an appropriate R.S.V.P. for the party tomorrow. Love it.
Now to get back to watching Charles and Di get married over and over again on TLC. I cannot work the DVR, but the girls can so we will now be able to endlessly watch Di's bridesmaids attempt to get her 26 foot train into the church and speculate on Kate's dress. My mister finds it funny that there's an awful lot of sighing and, er, squealing coming from the living room. Anywho... I must get back to the countdown on t.v. that I'm watching with my youngest child who is wearing ice skates (blade guards on in the house, of course) to practice her arabesques while we watch our fill of fairy tale wedding while mostly ignoring the unfortunate end to the nightmare marriage in anticipation of tomorrow morning's festivities.

Museum Piece

The Boy may well end up completing his high school education away from us. He's progressing in his new Home Away from Home. This feels like a half-life as a mom. Not a failure, but not quite what I signed up for, either. These thoughts are swimming near the surface of my thoughts of late. Not that one's offspring are ever fully banished from a mom's mind, but there are some pools of thought which are less often explored than others because they are too deep, and the danger of drowning too great.
Perhaps the thoughts are stronger today because the Boy's 16th birthday came and went with nothing more to mark it than a brief visit to the school without so much as a candle stuck in a twinkie (There are rules about bringing in outside food to the dorms, but there are vending machines with all sorts of junk. Don't get me started...) because the vending machine ate the coins without dispensing the cello-wrapped, processed mini cakes selected. The absence of the twinkie was somehow more difficult to swallow than the inability to make Evan the red velvet cake he would have really enjoyed. It just seems so pathetic to be willing to settle for the shadow of a celebration only to be unable to even pull that off successfully. Or maybe those thoughts are just more potent because I spent yesterday afternoon hanging out in what should be his bedroom?
That bedroom sits vacant in a mute testimony to what I wish. What I hope. What he did and did not choose. There have been conversations about converting the room to a space that can be used by those of us who live here in more corporeal form, but I resist. He never made that room his own. It still has the new ceiling fan to match the light fixtures in the rest of the house sitting in the unopened box on the floor because the mister and the Boy were going to install it together. The paint color was on the walls when we moved in, and he consistently deferred choosing another color despite several conversations about repainting the room to suit him. The narrow twin bed remains undisturbed by any but the old Bella cat day after day. The Boy's other furnishings speak of teenage boys in game rooms and locker rooms with a penchant for the color red. Still, I have stood guard over that room for months as if it housed my dreams.
The behavior is not terribly different from a parent who has lost a child and refuses to clean out the room or let go of possessions. This has always seemed a sad tendency to create a museum piece to the frozen last moments in time with lost loves; yet, I so understand the why and how of it. My mister began to wear the Boy's clothes because he is practical, but I was horrified by this act of betrayal as if he had voiced out loud the possibility that our son might continue on to adulthood without living under this roof we prepared for the restoration of our family of five. As if he were really gone, and we were only four. And that was not pretty. Letting go of the clothes came only after a visit when the Boy stood taller than I. The pants that I so resented seeing on my mister would be a tad too short for the Boy now. I sobbed alone later over this evidence of change and growth... but also saw in it the reality that I cannot hold on to the frozen dream of being a whole, normal family in this place at this time.
More than one crying jag, daydream of normalcy, hollow-chested desperate prayer, whistful wish, and brutally cut off thought unbidden have characterized the past months. Not unlike the Mothers with Museums, I grieve for the loss of What Could Have Been. What Should Have Been. Like those mothers, I am fumbling along trying to find the New Normal. To just be okay. Unlike those mothers, I have the possibilities of a future with my child to pull me away from the museum I would create to avoid the terror of forgetting a Lost Love. Because my love has simply chosen a route where I cannot walk alongside him, but he still travels onward toward manhood.
Yesterday, I pulled the bedding from his long unslept in twin bed, stood the mattress upright against the wall, and the mister took the frame apart. We will drive these pieces over to be donated to another family's need this weekend. Later, the mister and I drove home in the mommobile with a double mattress and bed frame in the back and a box spring tied to the roof. We wrestled the bed up the stairs and into the shambles of what was the Boy's room. The new bed still needs sheets, but I have a sense of the look of it after draping it with the quilt and the pillow shams that will match the paint on the walls. The locker room accents look wholly out of place now, and will likely be the next items to go. I feel a pull toward completing the transformation of this space into a guest bedroom not in order to cleanse it of my son's presence, but because the space will reflect the potential for future use. The unknown identity of the future guests whose heads will rest on those new pillows may well include none other than the one whose presence I have tried so hard to hold static in the place that was never really his own. Perhaps he will retreat there one night after enjoying a slice of his mother's red velvet cake...

Gifted

Middle Child's Christmas observance was all about the gifts. She wants to make lists of potential gifts and recipients, shop-til-she-drops (which is way past when her middle-aged mother drops), wrap lots of gifts in festive paper, and make piles of pretty packages. This year, when I cry, "Uncle!" opting for gift cards, has seen multiple trips out exhaustively searching for just the right items to suit Middle Child's gift-giving penchants. Not that she's been monetarily extravagant, but she is particular. She's one of those gifty sorts (I read Gary Chapman's Love Languages, and that chapter was written about this girl child.) who shows love through gifts. Which also means she receives love through gifts.
Have I mentioned that I wimped out and went with the universally easy and likable gift cards? Even Middle Child will find a gift card or two tucked amongst her goodies, but they were oh-so-carefully chosen to reflect her personal preferences. Because an inappropriate or poorly chosen gift is worse than no gift at all for her. (No pressure, though. Really.) Of course, the item she most wants to find under the tree is a plane ticket to Honduras.
Speaking of gifts and Honduras, today our family received a surprise gift. We received a Christmas Gift that speaks directly to our hearts. A gift was given to the Reach Out Honduras Education Fund in our name. This was given by the same friends who have heard me lament, whine, fuss, and try to work out an answer to how on earth a group of children who live at subsistence levels can possibly gain an education. About the kids who dream of going to school that is out of reach financially. About the tias (aunts) who prefer that funds from sponsors go to provide education before other basic needs. About the individual stories of this one who would be a doctor, and that one who wants to learn about Social Studies... It is the gift of hope for these children who we love that we have received for Christmas.

Holiday Home Tour

It's beginning to feel a little like Christmas around here. The signs of the Season are everywhere in the community, but have been sort of ho-hum around the house. The girls identified shopping, wrapping, and exchanging gifts and baking as priorities. Okay. Will do. I wanted at least one Nativity displayed, and the mister felt the tree was a necessity. So we pulled out the bare basics. Stockings were hung by the chimney with care, a garland draped here, and some snowmen stuck there... but we just sort of lost interest. I have no excuse. Nor any real explanation for the absence of full place settings of Spode on the dining table. Though, I am secretly a little amused that the ziploc baggies where we stow the kids ornaments are still parked by the fireplace while the tree sits bare but for the garland and lights. It's a weird year.

We did send out Christmas Cards. Middle Child and I watched the Nutcracker at midnight over the satellite feed on a school night, and I've been humming the beloved strains ever since. The mister is practicing to play at the church's Christmas Eve and Christmas Eve Eve (12/23) services, and the worship inspired by the set list is already awesome so I can only imagine what it will be like with a whole congregation to share it. We are not without joy for the celebration of Christ's birth. We're just a little lacking in the trappings that so often add to the celebratory feeling of this sweet season.

That said, on with this year's Holiday Home Tour (as seen at Green Girl's and Fannie's where one can find all sorts of inspiration) despite the incomplete nature of our festive preparations we still managed to at least give a nod to Christmas...

The snowmen and a few poinsettias at least brought a bit of festive to the nook where Little Bit likes to read and play on the computer.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, and a batch of choice pretties all gathered there....

This Nativity is my favorite. It's made of FIMO clay and the bottoms are rounded so the figures need the rice to stabilize them in their little terra cotta planter. Sort of Southwestern perhaps?

Our tree sits unfinished... We keep suggesting the girls hang their ornaments, but it just has not been done. Maybe tomorrow?

Tidbits: Posted

• The Boy left at 5:30 a.m. yesterday to go to an interim location where he will be evaluated for the next 30-45 days. Last night, it was 10:00 and I couldn't really picture where my kid was even though I have been given an address. This is not okay.
• Little Bit finished up her Intro to Skating class last night. Her teacher recommended skipping the Beginner level, so Alpha classes (pretty foot work and spins on one foot) begin January 4th. Walker commented yesterday that the skates were definitely not a waste.
• The mister's passport has arrived. Funds to cover the mister's and my airfare have been allotted. We're going to have to decide whether or not the girls will be going. They would be unenthusiastic about being left behind. I would like for the mister to not only be introduced to the Honduras that draws me, but also to see how our girls are similarly drawn.
• On the way home from ice skating, I suggested a stop at the Urgent Care Center. Good thing. My "sore throat" and "drainage" have settled into my lower left lung. Bronchitis treated right away is less likely to turn into a case of Christmas Pneumonia. While my plans were to have my arms full of babies at the children's emergency shelter today, I am instead cradling a cup of hot tea and lounging in my jammies until the nurse can get here later today to administer some I.V. meds. Boo. Well, the tea is lovely. It's just less snuggly than rocking and praying blessings over babies.