Ahh, Christmas...

For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

O come, O come, Emmanuel.
Amen and Amen

Christmas was a space to breathe for all of us today. Physically, spiritually, mentally, individually and as a family, we felt the presence of the Prince of Peace. Praise God.

This fall has been difficult for me. I have felt the strain of trying to do a full-time job, without full-time hours available. I have felt the strain of being over-committed at church and work, a perfect storm of reasonable commitments made that all came unexpectedly due at the same time. The kids and Jeremy have of course felt the strain of all this as well.

I decided to record our schedule here not to complain, but to document to myself what we did. This should on the one hand be an encouragement to me in the future, should we find ourselves in this situation again. More importantly, I hope it will be a warning, to help prevent us from getting in this situation again. Our schedule has been:

7:30 AM - leave the house (Jeremy to work; me to take kids to school)
9:00 AM - Mon-Wed-Fri: drop John at preschool and I join Jeremy at work
8:30 AM - Tuesday mornings - John and me time - usually grocery shopping
9:00 AM - Thursday - I take John to swim lessons and then have a whole day at home with John (laundry, sometimes a nap, sometimes a video for John and work for me) until we pick up kids at 2:30.
12:00 PM - Jeremy picks up John at preschool while I stay and teach afternoon classes (unless it is Tuesday, when we make a running switch at home, handing off the baton and John before I race in for my 12:30 lecture.)
2:30 PM - Jeremy picks up kids at school, followed by piano lessons Tuesday or gymnastics on Wednesday
5:30 PM - Mom gets home from work for dinner (Except Thursdays, when Mom is already home and Dad gets home about this time.)

Then, the evenings. All of these activities are in addition to the work that we so often have to bring home with us - lecture prep, writing and grading tests, committee work, etc. Too many bedtimes after midnight did me in, and would have even had I not been pregnant.
Mondays: I get home after department meeting around 5:30 pm. I have a meeting at 7 PM almost every week (Faculty Senate, Church Council, Church Worship Committee), so I have to eat a quick dinner, hug the kids good night, and leave Jeremy to run bedtimes. (Early in the fall, Jeremy also had to take all 3 kids to soccer practices from 6-8 pm. What a relief when those ended.)
Wednesdays: I teach a lab most weeks at 6:30. Many of the other nights, another church committee meeting at 7:00 instead. Fortunately, they kids have kids' programs at church every other week, so mostly preoccupied and don't miss me as much at bedtime with Jeremy.
Thursdays: Jeremy's turn to be gone, with a 6:30 class he decided to take at the seminary. So, we have a quick, early dinner together, then it is my turn for the solo bedtime.
Fridays:  collapse on the couch after dinner as often as not, leaving poor Jeremy to do the solo bedtime again, anyway.

The kids always ask for "the plans" at bedtime. This is partly a stalling technique to keep us there talking longer. But also, they want to try to keep track of what comes next in their lives. There were so many nights when James or Maggie would say somewhat unhappily, "Mom, why are you always gone to meetings at night? It feels like I never see you." Mommy guilt kicks in easily; I have to check this with some reality. On a Thursday afternoon, when I could be here with them after school, for example, they would be just as likely to instead choose to watch TV for an hour rather than visit with me. But I also realize it from their situation. They don't necessarily want to sit and stare at Mom and have "quality time." Sometimes it is just nice to know that someone is around - there for you whenever you might want to find her. And I wasn't able to give them that much this fall.

But during this Advent, I was waiting on much, and longing for much. I saw the 17th of December, the end of final exams, as a Holy Grail of sorts. The scheduled commitments at work would cease for 2 weeks. The kids would be home from school for 2 weeks. We would all reconnect magically and perfectly.

Of course, things never work out quite like we plan. First, I collapsed, physically, on the 18th and 19th. I pretty much just slept. Felt wonderful, but didn't get much accomplished. My grading was more backed up than I had hoped. Final grades were due at 5 PM on the 24th. (I didn't make it with both courses.) So during the first half of our long stretch of "family time," I sat at the kitchen counter grading while the kids entertained themselves. Or I went into the office and felt even more guilty the whole time. Finally, on the afternoon of the 23rd, I left on my first real Christmas shopping trip. Sure, I had picked up an odd thing here or there while getting groceries at Meijer in December, and had been able to order a few things online. But the rest of the list was accomplished in a whirlwind 2.5 hours amidst the crazy crowds. Fortunately, I had good luck finding what I needed.

A late night (well after midnight) on the 23rd allowed me to submit grades for one course and finish wrapping presents for the party at my Grandmother's on the 24th. I successfully graded the last stack of exams on the drive across the state. That left only 3 big project reports for the big finish. We had a lovely 24th of December, seeing good friends from far away and then all of Dad's family. Unfortunately, I was far too foggy-headed to finish up the reports, which take some actual attention. By 5 PM or so, I was fading fast and unable to enjoy the party anymore. Jeremy kindly drove all the way home as well, allowing me to nap. Thus, when we got home (with sleeping kids) I could stay up late again (this time only to midnight) to finish all the wrapping for the next day.

The kids woke up at 7:30 AM - pretty reasonable, really, for kids excited about Christmas. I was rested enough to get up and enjoy the quiet morning with them. I felt a bit sick - like a cold or the flu, but probably just fatigue, since I felt much better later in the day. Still, it was enough to convince me to not try to make it to 10 AM church. In fact, I didn't even try to get dressed. By 11 AM, I was napping peacefully on the couch.

Christmas morning was just lovely. The kids were genuinely excited and enthusiastic about their presents. Both James and Maggie said several times, "This is the best Christmas ever!" James was happy to have some new Lego sets to assemble, but especially was excited about the arrival of a family computer. (He has otherwise had to beg time on Mom's or Dad's work laptops, which are often unavailable because we are working.) Maggie loved that she finally got the American Girl doll for which she has been begging for well over a year now. She also got some Barbie/Fairy stuff that made her giddy in a way that only a 6-year old girl could be. She kept saying, "I can't believe I got an American Girl doll AND a Barbie AND fairies!" At least she was appreciative. Oddly enough, she seemed nearly as excited by her new Pillow Pet - perhaps the stupidest creation I have ever seen so effectively marketed to kids. It is really just a big throw pillow, with an animal head attached. It is not as if she is short on stuffed toys, or pillows, in her life. (She first saw an ad for these a few months ago at my dad's house, where they are left to watch excessive TV with commercials. She knew she had to have one. I don't know why. Maybe because we only can get in PBS at home, she hasn't had adequate preparation for resisting the onslaught of commercial TV.) John was thrilled with a backhoe, a preschooler's "monster truck" with remote control, a sword, and a cap gun. And yes, if you compare that to Maggie's list, it sounds like we are gender-stereotype-central. I can't defend it. That is what they like. I swear that if I did it to them, it wasn't on purpose. But you know, I really don't think I did it.

Oh, I was thrilled with my gifts, too. Most significantly, Jeremy arranged for a housecleaner twice a month starting in January. I am glad we have the sort of relationship that we both fully understand the gift is in the fact that he arranged it all, since the actual service is a gift to us both. So, while it might seem a bit like "a blender for your anniversary," I think it is a perfect present. And after this fall, I no longer have any mixed emotions about the rightness of using hired help for the cleaning. I saw the alternative and it hasn't been pretty.

The kids played peacefully all day, thrilled with their new things. (Well, mostly peacefully. John's backhoe and truck made a bit of noise that didn't let up until the batteries began to fail. But, he was content.) My dad came over in the late afternoon to share Christmas dinner with us, which turned out to be lovely even though it was almost completely unplanned. (A beef roast from the freezer, roast potatoes, salad, and homemade egg rolls dropped off by a friend.) Then, quite impressively, I finished up the day with yet another nap on the couch. Not so polite to my dad, perhaps, but he is used to it. He even napped a bit with me, to be companionable, before he headed home.

Now, after a quiet, lovely, peaceful day, with TWO naps, I feel quite ready to face the future. I will somehow get those grades finished tomorrow after church. We will get the entire house picked up and put back together before company back-to-back on Monday and Tuesday for Jeremy's family parties. We will even figure out how to get food purchased and made for those events. And I will finish up the abstract that needs to be submitted for a conference next summer, due by the 31st. Anything is possible after a day of peace, with lots of sleep.

So, I better not get off on the wrong foot again. To bed now, so I can stay caught up on sleep. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night.

Contentment

Is it perhaps a truism that growing up is really just about growing content? And if that is so, do we ever get there?

At bedtime tonight, James was in his reflective Eeyore mood. ("Why does nothing ever quite go my way in life?") He began our conversation with, "Mom? Sometimes it seems like as the oldest I have extra responsibilities and can never be quite good enough for you and Dad." That's it, James. Go right for the gut.

I decided a direct approach was best this time. "You know, James, you're right. We are harder on you. We have higher expectations. Some of that isn't fair, but you know, with you, Mom and Dad are just learning, too. We haven't figured out how to be good parents to a 9-year-old yet. Maggie and John benefit from our experience. I'm sorry that sometimes we are too hard on you."

"But you know, James, on the other hand, you do get extra privileges as the oldest, too. It works both ways."

"Like what?"

"You can't think of a single thing that you get to do that your siblings don't?"

"Well... I guess... I can go on rides at the amusement park that they aren't big enough for."

"Yes...And you can ride your bike on your own up to the pool for swim team in the summer. And when you and I were in Meijer yesterday, you could go on your own to another aisle to find something." (Okay, I am reaching here. But surely there are better examples out there. Maybe I will have a future blog post listing these, so I have a more ready arsenal.)

Fortunately, James was feeling forgiving tonight. "Yeah, I guess you're right, Mom. Every spot in the family has its advantages and disadvantages."

"Yes, that's so, James. You know, John gets frustrated by being the youngest. Every day when I you and Maggie off at school, he gets upset and asks why he can't go to school with you, too. 'I'm big enough!' he insists to me every time. And then, when I try to tell him that he gets to go to his own school, that isn't quite good enough for him.

You know, last week, when I took him to his preschool, he got really insistent that I 'just drop him off.' At first I didn't realize what he was asking for, but I didn't pay much attention, because the preschool has a rule that a parent has to walk in the child and get them checked in. But he got very upset when I tried to park. I finally agreed to drive right up to the curb, next to the door, and 'drop him off.' He went in by himself and felt very grown up and satisfied. But he would rather be big and go to school with you."

[BIG ASIDE: Dropping John off is a story in itself. I will finish that at the end of this post. ]

James thought this story was funny. He grudgingly agreed that being older wasn't always the worst. But clearly, he still thinks he is overworked and underappreciated. Probably so. And we make him wait for all kinds of privleges that the younger kids get right along with him at the time, like watching certain movies or hearing certain books. On the other hand, the books that Jeremy reads to the kids at night are almost always most interesting to James (and Jeremy). John and Maggie are left to like it or lump it if Mom won't or can't read concurrently. (Even then, poor Maggie gets caught in the middle because she wants to hear both Narnia and John's picture books.)

So the take home message for me? Back to the opening paragraph. Do we ever learn to be content with our lot in life? It seems mostly not. We are wired to see the injustices of our position, not the privileges and gifts. I suppose a big part of maturing, for adults as well as kids, is learning to be less grumbling and more grateful. I'll make a note of that for myself this week. No promises to post on how I am doing, though.

[And now, the other story. Dropping John off at preschool:

For the record, I did park after dropping him on the curb, and I followed him in, just to be sure he got in okay. It is a small lobby and not too much trouble for him to get into, but rules are rules, right? I was a bit startled by the astonished (disapproving?) looks from the other mothers as I came in, not 60 seconds behind him. 'Oh!' they said, 'we asked where his mom was and he said you just dropped him off and we couldn't quite believe someone would do that!' (Nervous laughter.)

No, I didn't actually leave my 3-year-old to check himself in. Although, it turns out, I could have. He really is big enough. By the time I got in, he had removed his coat and backpack and hung them on a peg, with his boots tucked neatly underneath. He was pulling open the big door to go into the gym and join his class with nary a backward glance. And, I find it ironic that this group of mothers might judge me for it if I did, since one of this crew had left her infant alone in the car for over 10 minutes in the parking lot a few weeks earlier. I noticed the little feet kicking in the seat as I brought John in. I stood there waiting for someone to go right back out, but no one dropped the conversation and headed out during the time I waited. Finally, I left, and the baby was still there. I turned around and headed back in, because by now I was thinking, "Surely  she can't belong to any of those moms because they wouldn't leave her that long. Maybe someone working in the office had one of those nightmare mistakes where they forgot to leave the baby at daycare on the way to work." Now the other moms were on the way out and, seeing me return, asked if I had forgotten something. "No, I was just checking to see who that baby belongs to." I got a very breezy reply from one of them, "Oh, she's mine. Is she awake now?" Creepers! Given that it is now illegal to leave your kids in the car alone in Michigan, did I just aid and abet a crime, not to mention support highly questionable parental judgement? So anyway, being judged by these moms for letting John walk in alone is a bit irritating. I decided not to take that to heart. ]

Never say die

John's energy level tonight after dinner was even higher than usual. As the rest of us finished eating, he ran 10-yard dashes back and forth across the kitchen. When that got boring, he switched to handstands. He can't stay up for long, but he is persistent. He jumps off both feet simultaneously and flips onto his hands for a moment, before springing back onto his feet. And repeat.

After a few minutes (and several dozen flips), during which I was genuinely impressed with his balance development, Jeremy interrupted him.

"John, if you are going to do that, then go into the living room where there is carpet, and where you are away from the stairs."

Surprisingly, John obeyed immediately. On his first attempt over carpet, he fell and crashed into furniture. I tried to assess his level of injury from his crying - not too serious, but real. I suggested that he stop jumping now.

He came towards me, whimpering, looking like he might seek comfort. Just before he got to me he stopped, seemed to shake himself off, then turned back to the living room and announced bravely, "I don't need a kiss. I can do that again."

Aspirations

We were watching Prince Caspian with the kids tonight, in lieu of a bedtime story. (Jeremy has been reading through the Narnia books with the kids at bedtime for some weeks now.)

I didn't think John was getting much of the plot of the movie, really. Apparently he gets the important parts. As Jeremy tucked him in tonight, he said,

"Dad, when I grow up... I want to be a beast. With long ears. And something to fight with. Can I have a sword for Christmas?"

Signs of the season

I noticed recently that I rarely post photos to my blog. That is mostly because I think of stories I want to share, not pictures. It is also related to the transfer issue. I only get photos off my camera and onto my computer every few months, by which time they all seem woefully out-of-date for posting to a blog.

But tonight, I have a whole slew of December photos, and it is still December. Seems like the perfect opportunity to branch out into a photo essay. So, here goes.

December 2, 2010
Look at them boots!

Winter has arrived. No one should be caught without their most fashionable boots on. (Except Mom, who will have to fight to get any of her boots back.)

December 4, 2010
Time to get the tree!
Don't worry; John will bring the saw for us.

We cut one from our now "traditional" place - someone's front yard up in Rockford. Well, a particular someone's yard, and they are selling the trees. It is $10 a tree, any size you can find. You cut, you haul. Not a bad deal, overall. After all, we do have lots of free labor for hauling.

December 5, 2010
Christmas Music
It is the Children's Christmas Program at church. John sang with the other preschoolers. Margaret sang with the other first graders. James sang with the 2nd-6th graders. More or less. And all were blessed.


John is there in the red sweater. He is pantomiming "Sleep in heavenly peace" like a pro.



Maggie is thrilled to have another place to wear her "Santa" dress. She was also excited to sing on a stage. They sang "Emmanuel" and "Go Tell [SHOUT] It on the Mountain" - a good fit for Maggie.
The "fuzzy effect" is not actually my photography; it is the hair of the elderly woman in the pew in front of me. Just think of it as snow on the windowpane.




Not certain if James actually opened his mouth to sing at all during the program, but he seemed content enough to stand with the rest of the chorus.


December 11, 2010
Picking out a tree, Act II.
We drove east to help Dad pick out his tree. The place he went, near campus, is a bit more of an "industry" than our spot. There we encountered:

• a tractor and wagon ride back to the warming hut
• a reindeer is kept roaming about his pen
• a roaring bonfire around which to enjoy food purchased from the warming hut (doughnuts, hot cider, and more)
• an oversized, Christmas-tree-shaped photo op
• not only are the handsaws provided, but so are the big wheeled carts for hauling your prize back
• tree shakers to remove the dead needles, and a bundler to send it all home in a tidy package



Uncle Jim joined our family to help Grandpa find his tree. Not much snow that day, but it was bitterly cold. The snow came the next day, causing the kids to get snowbound at Grandpa's for an extra 24 hours.






Does it involve buying junk food? Then it is a hit with the kids. James, Maggie, and John liked it pretty well, too.

  Of course, none of this fancy accessorizing prevented Dad's tree from falling over on top of him that night as he and the kids slept in the living room in sleeping bags. This just about made Maggie's whole trip, since it reminded her of one of her favorite stories, from "when Mommy was a little girl" and the Christmas tree fell over. (The rest of the story involves a Santa suit, a vacuum cleaner salesman, and other oddities that you have to ask to hear in person sometime. Unless you were there, like Jeff.)

Excitement ensued!

As I was heading up the stairs to chase the children into bed, I heard sudden chaos erupt above me. I couldn't sort out the cause; I could only discern that Maggie was somehow hysterical. I turned the corner and looked up to the top of the steps to see a look of stunned, excited, horror on her face as blood dripped down her chin into her hand.

Now, chaos is nothing new around here. Hysteria doesn't really cause ripples either. But the blood was a bit unusual. And, given Maggie's newfound squeamishness over blood, the fact that she wore only a bemused expression added to my confusion. She wasn't staring accusingly at either brother, either.

It took some time to sort out that she had apparently "whammed her face into the wall." (Don't ask. I don't know. There may have been two wrestling brothers involved.) Doing so seemed to have knocked out one of her front teeth. Fortunately, it had already been loose. In fact, it has been the subject of her complaints for several weeks now. She has been very excited and anxious to lose her first tooth.

We wiped the blood up off the carpet, then proceeded to hunt, but that tooth was nowhere to be found. (I have my suspicions.) It was bedtime, but Maggie was not at all sure about going to bed without that tooth under her pillow. I assured her repeatedly that the tooth fairy will find it in the dark, wherever it is. After all, how does she usually find a small tooth under a big pillow in the dark of night, anyway? The fairy's chemoreceptors for lost teeth are obviously exquisitely evolved for this task. So, what's going to stop her from finding that tooth in the hallway (or in a stomach?)? Hopefully I told the truth about that. It has been my experience, actually, that the tooth fairy has much greater trouble with remembering to retrieve a tooth than with finding it.

Kids' sizes - for my own failing memory

Here is a true sign of my aging. I can't recall the kids' sizes at all these days. Maybe I just have too many kids? Anyway, we just ordered boots for all, so I have this receipt with current shoe sizes for all. But I need to clean off my counter. What to do?

Then, I realized, I live in a digital age. I can record their shoe size here for all time. Not very interesting to you, my reader, but very useful to me. :)

So, as of November 2010:

James - shoe size 7
Margaret - shoe size 3 (closer to 2 but we rounded up for boots)
John - shoe size 12 (closer to 11 but again, we rounded up)

Hey, I like this way of clearing paper from my life. Maybe I will start recording all kinds of vital statistics on the kids here. Height and weight? Blood pressure? Cholesterol level?

Daddy's Boy

Today the 3-yr-old John totally dissed me in the car.

"Mom, will you turn on some music?"

I obliged with cheesy Christmas music on the radio - my favorite at this time of year. A few seconds later, "Mom, will you turn on music that Daddy likes?"