Happy holidays one and y'all

In the glow of colored Christmas lights, a tiny hand delicately rips another strand from the green and red paper chain. Excitement saturates her voice as she counts for the second time the remaining days until Christmas.
....

With dishrags adorning their heads, a brother and sister fetch a bright pink baby cradle.

"I'm Joseph, Mom!" the two year old exclaims. The older daughter chimes in,

"We're playing 'When Jesus was born'!" Forgetting her work, she tunes in to watch her children reenact the nativity.

....

An overly excited wife takes her place next to her spouse. They wait with anticipation for their child's Christmas program to begin. This is a first for them. The smile on the Mother's face is mirrored by the expression of the other parents who have gathered. Finally, their star enters. Finding her Mom and Dad in the crowd, she offers them an enthusiastic wave and a bright smile. And just like that, the chaotic memory of getting all three children out the door that morning is erased.

The family home has become a refuge of warmth from the surprisingly frigid, Southern air. Entering said home, you'd discover that pieces of Christmas have found their way into each room. Even Sherman the Snowman (he updates Santa on the family's behavior) has been known to travel to the bathroom. He appears to be the cure for overly rowdy children playing in the tub. Magic.

The gingerbread... ah, the prepackaged gingerbread. It waits patiently in a... box?

That's it. HALT the yuletide!

(Hanging head in mock-shame) Despite the fact that our gingerbread village came from a box and not the oven, this activity was met with great excitement.

Paper plates? Why yes.
I'm classy like that.

As easy as it is to sugar coat the holidays (*see entire entry), we've had our share of stress. Circumstance and choice have pushed the children and me out the door on errands. Some days the return home feels victorious. On other days, you might find me hiding under a blanket in fetal position, trying to recover from the latest public tantrum.

I won't point fingers (but he will...)


In the land of baby, life is beautiful.

(two months old)

Lottie is sublime. As much as I like words, one thing I can't properly express is how special this baby is to us. I love her very much.
As of today, I'm not in need of a self-help baby guide. But if you happen to have a,

"How to survive your two year old," I'd love a copy!

{Oh dear, I feel myself shifting from "Ode to Lottie" mode to "Ode to Henry"...}

Yes, this is a challenging stage, but Andrew and I have never been more entertained or delighted. Henry is a blend of hilarity, irresistability (not a word, I know) and -u-make-me-want-to-rip-my-hair-out. Not to mention, he's a best friend to Eliza and super smitten with Lottie.

Let the Christmas-ing continue. Next up for us: a visit with Santa, sugar cookies and holiday lights (with a few nightmare trips to Walmart smothered in between).