Making Christmas Happen

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It is raining here. And leaking here.  And so much not feeling the Christmas season here.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about Christmas.  "It's up to moms to make Christmas happen," she said.  She's right.  Who shops, wraps, bakes, addresses, crafts, decorates, and remembers the hard-to-give-to people?  The Mom.

This Mom needs some help.
I feel overwhelmed, and I picture my brain as one of those grabbing booths with little slips of paper swirling out of control.



 On each slip of paper is a task that I must complete to make Christmas happen for our family.  Christmas Card Pictures. Wrap Teacher Gifts. Sew Children's Stockings. Decorate House. Shop for Gifts. Bake Cookies. Pick out "Christmas Outfits" for children.  Am I missing something?  Oh yes. Jesus.  What do all these Christmas things have to do with Him?  I usually love this time of year, but right now I'm beginning to feel grinchy... and what kind of attitude is that for celebrating Emmanuel, the most amazing event in all of history? 



These are my children, watching a Christmas movie last December. In the matching pajamas their Super {Christmas} Mommy made for them.  Super Mommy has temporarily moved away; we're hoping she'll return when the baby is weaned.  She didn't leave a note, so we're not sure.



My prayer this morning (and yes, for the rest of my life, but let's get through this morning first, OK people?) is that I will have wisdom and courage to discern what really needs to be done, and what can be done away with.

Maybe I can get it all done.

Maybe I don't need to. 

I cannot allow "making" Christmas to ruin Christmas for my family.



And Now... I need to figure out what to do about the leaky window and the flooded basement.  Oh yes, the basement: where all my sewing stuff lives.



Soggy Green Happiness

Chilly spring raindrops are pinging the windows. Looking out, I see that the grass around the muddy patches is violently green. If the sun were to suddenly shine, the vibrancy of the brilliant, wet lawn would certainly hurt one's eyes. The muddy patches are usually called "flower beds." No blooms yet, but the promise is there in little emerald shoots. A dozen tiny birds peck away in the mud, ignoring the rain.

I'm not an outdoorsy type, and I am tired of cold and rain... but those birds and flower buds make me smile.

Wasted Endeavors (not really)

March 9th, 2011
The really awesome thing about rainy days? There is absolutely no point in washing your dirty floors! What a total waste of time, I decided.



So I cooked and froze a couple more meals instead. (Yay Kylie project!)



Sad news: the sons received their first frowny face on their room chart. The "mess" was just two toys and two towels on the floor and I almost chose to pick them up and ignore the infraction, but I decided that wouldn't really help them learn to be tidy. So I picked them up and meted out punishment, because also the lights were also left on. Really, though, the Hilary is working out splendidly. I'm brainstorming a similar project for the girls' room, but it is trickier because I cannot count on a two year old keeping anything clean and should a five year old sister really be responsible for picking up after her?



That's enough updates on those projects.



Other crossed-off items on the Before Baby List:

• Sew pajama pants for my sister-in-law, who should be having her own Darling Child any day now.


• Clean out refrigerator. Well, at least I cleaned out the yucky food in the refrigerator. I'll save the Empty-Everything-and-Bleach-the-Fridge-Walls chore for when I'm overdue and going crazy.

Actually, this last task helped out with the Kylie project. "Hmm... don't want to eat this. But someone might; just stick it in the freezer."

Just kidding.

Maybe.

March 10, 2011

My sister-in-law delivered a lovely baby girl last night and I can hardly wait to go see her in person! First though, I'm going to whip up a new little creation for her to wear (I just hope her mother likes it, since she is probably too little to choose her own clothes). Pictures later maybe?