Happy Birthday Andrew

Baby Andrew was born on this day 18 years ago.  When I was in labor I went to the hospital to hang out, but I didn't want to check in until I was closer to delivery.  I get a little claustrophobic hooked up to the monitors, and  I like to keep my options open.  I pretty much spent the day in the lobby and gift shop.  A friend of mine had had a baby the day before so there was a steady flow of people I knew coming to visit her.  They all stopped and talked until finally I was ready to check in.  The nurse measured my progress and said I was complete. Andrew was born a few minutes later. He was a cinch.























Being the youngest of 7 means there is a lot of siblingly influence. With that comes some good news and some bad news.  They loved him and held him and read to him and played with him.

But he also had a cavity when he was 18 months old because a nameless generous brother distributed copious amounts of Starburst to appease his lively inclinations.

And he got involved in activities that may not have been as fun as anticipated because his big brother made it sound like a good idea.

But I admire the boy's nerve.  When he was two he called to me from the other room, "You'd better get in here before I count to 3."  We had a conversation about respecting our parents, but his spunk did made me smile a little.   Subsequent conversations on the same topic did not hold an equal level of amusement, but I realized  then that Andrew does not live life quietly in the corner.  He's right in the middle of the action and it makes me want to get in the middle too.

There are other things to be learned from Andrew.  

Dalmation shirts are the best shirts, and your mom will buy  more if you cry really hard and kick your feet and throw yourself to the ground every time she tries to make you wear a different kind.

When you're 5, organized sports are boring compared to the amazing adventures happening  in your imagination.  Who has time to watch the ball when there are bad guys to be vanquished?

But when you're bigger sports are awesome and it's even fun to practice because being good is a lot more interesting than the alternative.

And another thing, sometimes you've just got to sing and dance because talent has a way of slipping out no matter how much we try and hide it.

And if you're wondering if you should dress up for spirit week, halloween, or random days of fun, the answer is always "Yes."

The other night I was helping Gabe learn his Roman and Greek stems list.  We'd been drilling for a while.  Andrew had a lot of homework of his own, but when he observed our slow progress he came in to help Gabe.  He told Gabe that "Nova" was new because he was newly born in November and "Dox" means opinion because we say, "What's up Doc?" and "Ver" is true because it says "verily, verily" in the Book of Mormon and the Book of Mormon is true.  And that's when Gabe learned all his stems list #4.  Another beautiful brother moment came when he taught Gabe about kindness. Gabe said he'd try and be nice but Andrew shared  "You have to feel it in your heart or people can tell."

Andrew you're a great guy. Not every day has been a cinch, but you're full of strength and goodness and many gifts, and I'm proud to be your mom.   xoxoxo

Happy Thanksgiving

On this Monday before the 4th Thursday of November (Thanksgiving) I would like to record some of our family's time honored traditions.  We'll start with the feast.  The meat of choice is turkey.  That's what my mom served and that's what I serve.  According to the tradition, (mine, not my mom's) I move the turkey from the deep freeze to the refrigerator on Monday.  I assume there is enough time to thaw before Thursday.  By Wednesday it is still frozen solid and I try the quick thaw method of putting it in a sink of cold water. I place a wet wash cloth on the part that is still exposed because the sink isn't quite deep enough.  Thursday morning I go to stuff the turkey before baking it.  I realize that the giblets and neck are still frozen in the turkey cavity.  I try and pry them out with a fork, unsuccessfully.  I then start chipping frozen turkey parts and running hot water over the icy innards until they break loose from the cavity's stubborn hold.  I throw the neck and giblet bag into the garbage with a twinge of guilt.  My mom used to boil them for stock to make her stuffing.  I'll remember that option, but then I twist off the lid of the boullon granules.  When I can find the disposable aluminum roaster I place the turkey and cover it with aluminum foil.  I bake for the recommended time and wonder why the thermometer didn't pop.  Everything is ready except the red middle of the butterball timer.  We assume it's broken and pull the turkey out.  Paul carves the turkey and continually asks, "Is this turkey done, does it look pink to you?"  We serve the outside white pieces and put the questionable turkey slices back into the oven where they bake to a state of unappetizing dryness. " How can this be a tradition?" you ask.  Wouldn't you just learn from last year's problems?  One would think, wouldn't one?  There have been a couple of changes to be sure.  One year I started using turkey baking bags.  That reduced the turkey baking time.  For the past couple of years I have taken the turkey out of the freezer on Sunday instead of Monday.  A couple of years in Alabama were awesome because our friends let us fry our turkey in their deep fryer...best turkey ever.  But most years the tradition is observed.  This year I am conscientiously trying to avoid the tradition. My turkey is thawing as we speak, and I think I'll put Daniel in charge of turkey.  He won't let the turkey fail.  It's the only Thanksgiving food he eats, the little carb hater.

I spend many minutes unloading the punch bowl cupboard so I can pull the punch bowl out of it's candle, Easter egg decorating kit, glass cups, and glue gun laden state.  It is then filled with cranberry juice and sprite.   Of course we serve green bean casserole with french fried onions because we're American.  We change up the jello salad, but pomegranate apple salad screams "Thanksgiving dinner."  I make gravy with boullon and corn starch. We of course have mashed potatoes and we serve them in the elegant mixer bowl (I take the beaters out.) My mom has a delicous stuffing she makes with french bread torn into pieces a couple of nights before and left drying on the counter.  I have not been successful with this recipe.  Mine was just soggy so until I check the ingredients, I  buy Pepperidge Farms stuffing mix, add onion, celery and bouillon and call it good. Probably the most solid feature of our feast is Paul's rolls.  Always delicious.  This year I'm going to try and make Paul's mom's lemon jello salad with cheese, pineapple and marshmallows.  I love food legacies.

The pies that have become standard fare are french apple, Marie Callendar's razzleberry, and Lynn Ames' cheesecake. I always like to try a new side dish and new pie recipe.  This is especially fun if I have a guest that likes adventuring with food.  There's a little pie baking tradition too.  The pie filling always bubbles onto the heating element in the oven.  My husband bah humbugs this tradition and places my pies on a cookie sheet.  I'll never forget the look of wonder on my brother-in-law's face when my sister and I were baking pies.  Pie filling was sizzling away  and smoke was pouring from the oven.  We just looked at him and said nonchalantly, "Oh don't worry, it will burn off and stop smoking eventually."  Sorry Paul J.

We observe the feast, but I love the people.  It is important to me to be surrounded by loved ones.  For much of my married life I lived within a short day's travel to my sister Susie's home.  Many of our Thanksgivings were spent together.  I still feel bad about the year we took our family to her house and brought with us a horrible virus.  My oldest son was coughing a bit and seemed  tired, but I couldn't stand the thought of not being with my sister for Thanksgiving.  I rationalized that he would be better by the time we got there.  Well, he was worse and many of her family contracted his symptoms.  Sorry Susie.  But the other Thanksgivings were great.  The kids were loud and we were crowded, but there's something about being with a sister.  She taught me a craft, usually an ornament, and we went shopping with only the youngest babies in tow, if we took any kids at all.  Thanks husbands.

Amy, Nathan, Daniel and Brandon

Aaron and Amanda 1989

We've tried a couple different thankful activities.  One year we wrote what we were thankful for on the tablecloth.  Another year we wrote great qualities on placecards.  I've heard of making a list of one hundred things people are thankful for.  I'd like some suggestions if anyone has any.  We can always be more thankful around here.  "Can't be hateful.  Gotta be grateful."

After the dinner we make graham cracker gingerbread houses.  The kids fill them with as much candy as possible and then we play the "let's see how many pieces this breaks into on the way home" game.  Our Thanksgiving night movie is "Miracle on 34th street" with Mara Wilson, just in case there is anyone in the house who does not believe in Santa Clause.

Gingerbread houses with Carrie and kids

Susie and I don't get together for Thanksgiving anymore.  We both have adult children and grandkids now.    I also live in the south.  I live close to a different sister, yay for sisters. Sometimes we get lucky and have nephews for dinner. We had a couple of years of Thanksgiving with Brandon and Mallory.  I loved those holidays.  I wish I had known they would be moving to the west coast, I would have loved them even more.  Thankfully, Daniel and Erica and Nathan and Ariane live in the Thanksgiving road trip zone.  Caleb called me this morning to tell me he couldn't sleep very well last night because he's excited to see me.  Me too!  Nathan called on Sunday to say that he and Ariane are in.  It's going to be a great feast.   As long as I have someone I love at my table, it's Thanksgiving to me.

2010 in DC

2011

Happy Birthday Miss Rebecca

When this little girl came into our family we knew there was something about her.  All my kids are unique and amazing, but this baby was different.  For one thing she was quiet.  I waited for her to start her frequent and sustained crying at 3 weeks, (like her older siblings) but it just didn't happen.

I asked the doctor if she was okay.  He picked her up by her tummy and she arched everything up with perfect tone.  He said, "She's fine."  I guess the first thing we learn from Rebecca is "You don't have to follow the crowd."

After getting to know this little sweets better, I thought, "Someone needs to have this girl for a big sister.  It would be a shame to waste her talents."  Soon after that Gabe was born.  The three of us went on a million trips to the Dr. in Chicago.  She was practically a baby herself, but was extremely helpful and was a great comfort to me and companion for Gabe.  More than once when I was holding her in my lap,  he would come over wanting me.  She quietly relinquished her spot so his needs could be met.  My heart broke a little, but I was proud of her. She took care of him for as long as he would allow.  She made structures out of cardboard and created games.  She attended speech therapy with him as a role model and played a lot of school.  Only her school was real, with curriculum and objectives.

Paul and Rebecca visiting Gabe and me in the hospital.

Gabe enjoying a Rebecca creation

Rebecca has a way of making life seem great.  She's not stressed, why are we?  She works towards worthy goals, but she brings a little sunshine on the journey.  She doesn't know why people always laugh at her, but she should hear how cute she sounds.  One silly night she told her brother, "Make me laugh.  Never mind, I'll make myself laugh.  Knock, knock."  She told me she couldn't eat peanut butter sandwiches for lunch anymore, "I'm getting love handles.  PB sandwiches are too lovey dovey for me." 

This is her invention presentation introducing the "Sticky-clippy pencil."

Blue's Clues all the way.

You know how you wear the boundary cones

Holiday socks?  check.  Because of Rebecca
we now have a rule: No holiday socks out of season.
And yet, I saw some Easter socks peeking out of her pant
legs just last week.

Trevor and Becca, balloon hat buddies

The cutest little magician in the parade

Surprise!

A few years ago I wrote in my journal, "Rebecca is loving and diligent."  I would still say those are her strongest characteristics and they've taken her a long way.  Sometimes it looks like she's magic, but what I see is a little girl practicing and practicing, studying and studying, exercising, reading, praying, serving, creating until she lies her tired little body down at night after giving her best effort every day.  I guess it's true what they say, "The harder I work.  The luckier I get."

Mrs. Ritter, Becca's fantastic 8th grade science teacher.

Happy Birthday beautiful!  Thanks for coming to our family.