Between discussions like these and Luke lifting up his shirt for me to blow on in tummy (in the middle of Wal-Mart), I'm glad my holiday shopping is almost done.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Christmas Errands
Between discussions like these and Luke lifting up his shirt for me to blow on in tummy (in the middle of Wal-Mart), I'm glad my holiday shopping is almost done.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Looking for a Good Christmas Album?
So, I heard an interview with the band members of Sixpence None the Richer on NPR about their holiday album, The Dawn of Grace. (Did you know they were a Christian band? Me either.)
I haven't bought a holiday album since 2004, but I loved the snipets I heard on the interview, which I couldn't find on npr.org.
If you like a little female indie rock, my guess is you'll enjoy this album. My favorites:
"O Come, O Come, Emmanuel"--which reminds me, Nate, what about Emmanuel for a boy?--um, not that we're expecting. We just have a hard time agreeing on names. Have you met Luke/Thor?
"Some Children See Him"--if I can find the music, I think this would make a church Christmas program
"Riu, Riu, Riu"--even if I can't tell if she's singing in Portuguese or Spanish
"River"--because my friend, Heather, taught me to appreciate a little Joni Mitchell
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Humpty Dumpty
Hmmm, the amount of blogging I do is directly proportional to the amount of grading I have to do. Coincidence?
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Scenes from a Marriage: Mr. Fix-it
last week
Emily: Whoa! You totally fixed that train bridge! I've tried to fix it like 4 times. How did you do it?
Nate: With this special stuff...it's called wood glue.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
A Good Enough Christmas
I guess we all feel differently about the holidays.
My friend, Jessica, said a few weeks ago, "I was so excited. While I was driving, I found the Christmas station. It's not even Thanksgiving yet."
You see, I can't decorate, can't make crafts, can't get a Christmas card out before Martin Luther King, Jr Day because I get myself all worked up that nothing is going to look right, which makes me so overwhelmed that I don't know where to start, so I wait until the last minute, and well, when you wait until the last minute to plan, nothing looks right (how's that for a run-on!). I end up feeling mean and crabby until January 2nd when the completely self-imposed pressure is off.
Last year, I realized this probably wasn't normal. I mean, why would the rest of the Christian world continually shift into over-drive year after year to get this holiday done if SOMEONE SOMEWHERE wasn't getting some pleasure from it.
Every year, I want a family picture with haircuts, new outfits, a professional photographer, and a killer background (um, I've never actually gotten all these things done, just wished I had). This year, after dinner one night, we dressed the kids in Sunday clothes, put on our pajamas, and took photos of just the kids because, well, they're the cutest of our bunch.
3. While the tradition of picking out a real tree and having that pine smell is lovely, we're a fake tree family now.
In a dry climate, there is no other way. No needles to vacuum all season long. The tree is crooked, the ornaments are all discarded from our moms, and my kids have already broken 9 of them. But, it's up, and if you squint and turn your head a bit to the left, it looks more than Good Enough.
So, my experiment is going well, and we'll keep doing these Christmassy things. I've just changed my criteria. Instead of shooting for perfect, I'm just trying to enjoy what we're doing and not worry about the outcome.
Enjoying them makes them Good Enough, and I've been pleasantly surprised to find out that while we're doing things Good Enough, there are unexpected happy moments. And, it's in those moments that Christmas feels more than Good Enough. It feels happy.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
And now for something completely different!!
What happens when the French and Canadian militaries collaborate on a project?
Asher gives this video a great big "Oh No!" whenever I play it for him.