A-town Christmas

Christmas was a whirlwind.  Filled with get-togethers at church, in the neighborhood and at school, incoming and out-going treats, present-making and mailing, phone calls to family in far-flung places, singing, car- buying, colds all around and a lovely visit from family to top it all off.

A family in our neighborhood had a life-sized Santa statue on their front porch, and while driving past one day Marley asked me, "Mama, what's that monkey over there?"  She didn't quite get the whole Santa thing, which, quite honestly, is fine with me.  But it was still cute to see her and Eleanor sit on Santa's lap at the ward Christmas party.

I spent a LOT of time driving Eric Jr. to and from his rehearsals and performances with the Atlanta Boy Choir.  This is his second year in the choir, but both the music and the time commitment have grown more serious this year, as he's graduated from the training choir to Choir I (which is a step below the touring choir- who are going to Russia this summer!).  During the holiday season they sang in five languages at the State Capital (below), a Monastery, a Basilica, and a Cathedral.

As for me, I'm pretty sure I've earned a reputation as a totally inadequate "choir mom", after incidents including a forgotten robe, a broken-down car (right smack in front of the Capital building), an unintended detour resulting in a late arrival, wrong-colored shoes, a hysterical phone call when I couldn't find the pick-up spot, and a car often bursting with children, usually including one or two tag-alongs from the neighborhood.

Poor Eric- I tell myself it builds character.  We were so pleased to see that his confidence was even strong enough to sing a duet with his father in church on Christmas morning.  They sang the first verse of Silent Night in the original German (because the Boy Choir had sung it in German, and Eric didn't know the words in English).  It was beautiful and so amazing to watch him do something I would never in a million years have been brave enough to do.

Christmas Eve was chaotic and exhausting, and I was once again SO grateful for our tradition, inherited for Eric's family, of the annual fondue dinner  It's special, delicious, all my children eat it, I get lots of cheesy kisses, and it takes 10 minutes to make.  If only it were less expensive.....

I was so happy with how our Christmas Day unfolded (so happy that I apparently didn't take any pictures).  Last year I regretted giving in, as always, to the impulse to buy my children's happiness with lots of presents that ended up being quickly forgotten in a sea of wrapping paper and over-abundance.  This year we implemented the 3 gift rule: each child's Santa presents were limited to something to wear, something to read and something to play with.  When added to the gifts from extended family and friends, I think we hit the sweet spot between not-enough and too much.

One thing I did regret was not having time to make the kids something more special from me- the past two years I did bathrobes and money banks, but this year all I managed was to print out some quotes I thought they would like and stick them in frames we already had.  I've noticed that the bathrobes and money banks are treasured possessions that have long outlasted Legos and Star Wars figures, so I'll have to start earlier on my homemade gifts next year.

The best part of our Christmas was a visit from Eric's sister, Erica (I know:-) ) and her family.  We had several days of lazy mornings at home in PJ's, followed by afternoon adventures in the city and cozy dinners at home.  My favorite stop was the Martin Luther King Center in the Sweet Auburn neighborhood of Atlanta, where Dr. King grew up.  We missed out on the tour of his birth home (yay home birth!!) due to the crowds, but we did get to learn all about his life in the museum, and then visit the historic church where he was pastor.  It was truly inspiring, and made me proud to be a resident of the city where he was born and grew up.

We also spent an afternoon at the Atlanta Fed (no pictures allowed), watching though a giant window as robots carried cash around the vault and learning about our country's banking system.  My favorite part was chatting up the guards (who actually aren't guards at all, but law-enforcement agents for the Federal Reserve Police force).  Despite the massive rifles at their sides, they're the nicest policemen I've ever met- I even learned that bank employees can sometimes score a tour of the cash vault itself- one more reason to come visit us here!

We also took in a basketball game at Emory one night.  Free admission...court side seats...free popcorn....I love my Blue Devils, but as far as a family activity is concerned, this beat out Cameron Indoor Stadium in my book.  Eric Jr. got to see his coach from basketball camp score a few points and even talk to him after the game.

 My cousin is one of the dearest people on earth to me, so the sight of my children enjoying their time with their wonderful, sweet, fun cousins warmed my heart.  We're already plotting our summer fun in case this time of living on the same coast is brief.

So that was our Christmas.  Now it's time to turn our thoughts forward to a new year.  If 2011's exit is any indication, 2012's entrance is bound to be sweet.

Dr. Aldrich

Fall in the City in a Forest

Fall in Atlanta is stunning.

There's a tree on our running route that turns the most incredible color of yellow in the fall.  Weeks ago, as we passed under it, I pointed up and told Marley, "There's my favorite tree!"  She said "Oh".  Then, "Who gave that to you Mama?"  That's her thing these days- always wanting to know who gave her what.  "Who gave me these shoes?  Who gave me my pink bear?  Who gave me my bicycle?"  I laughed at her asking who gave me a tree, but then I said, "Heavenly Father did."

The air turned balmy at the beginning of November.  For days the girls and I explored the Olmstead park on our way home from our daily runs.  When the boys came home we wandered the woods behind their school and the nearby Fernbank Forest.  One day, on the way to the grocery store with all four of my kids and two of my neighbor's, I made a u-turn in the middle of the street and pulled over at a playground.  The kids ran and jumped and screamed at the top of their lungs in the indian summer evening.

Was all of this here last year?  Between the homesickness and the morning sickness I hadn't noticed the beauty of an Atlanta fall.  I'd missed the damp gray of the old mansions of Druid Hills against the warm fire of fall leaves.  The smell of wet tree trunks and the laughter of my children playing late into the afternoon.

My old friend, an uncertain future, has been my constant companion this fall.  When the days first started turning cooler, applications were going out, visions of new homes in new cities were filling our heads, and my anxiety level was high.  But as the leaves turned, my heart turned to a brilliant present.  As I spent every extra moment outdoors with my kids, I felt God's love surrounding me in this place I was so sure I could never call home.  It felt like a gift from a Father who knows me well enough to know that I would need extra support in this time of flux and change.

As I sat in testimony meeting this morning a thought formed in my heart, as clear as the blue Georgia sky.  The gospel is my home.  The savior is my home.  Wherever we go, he'll be there.

Boo

A few years ago, in a de-cluttering frenzy, I cleverly decided to store all the boys' outgrown Halloween costumes in a garbage bag in the garage. One state and two houses later- it's gone. Fortunately Brigham hadn't outgrown our family Halloween heirloom- the Chewbacca costume. Made by my mother-in-law, Eric wore it as a child, followed by his two sons, and now, as you can see, one daughter.

Some might go for a more feminine theme- a Disney princess, a ballerina, even a witch. But this girl was more than happy to rock brown fur. She even attempted a little Chewbacca roar.

Are you dying?

Here's a picture of Eric Sr. as Chewbacca all those years ago...

Happy Halloween.

Today

It was a day without a Dad, like a lot of these home-stretch-of-the-PhD days. Afternoon loomed, evening lurked, bedtime menaced. I had extra kids in the mix because my dear neighbor is sick. So I called Mary- she and I bonded over mastitis at church one Sunday- and we went to the park.

We laid the babies on blankets in the grass and talked and talked while our kids ran wild. Our conversation covered the state of Oklahoma, a documentary about sheep, and sloppy joe's. When Marley started rummaging around in my bag looking for crackers, I pulled out my Jimmy John's menu. Fifteen minutes later a sweaty man on a bicycle handed me a box filled with sandwiches and bags of chips.

The kids devoured their sandwiches and begged for sips from my water bottle. I made them go to the drinking fountain. It was too nice a day for floaties in my water. When they asked, do we have to go home soon? I answered, No. We're staying here until bedtime. And they all cheered.

At seven we picked up the blankets, babies and bottles, and herded our dirty, exhausted children to the parking lot. Anticipating a rocky bedtime, I stopped at Wendy's for five orders of compliance in a paper cup. Otherwise known as frosties. By 8:30 I had a silent house.

Lots of days I feel like a mess of a mother. Today? Nailed it.

Days when the rains came

(Photo by Lindsay)

Today we had rain for the first time in weeks. Sometime in the late afternoon, the kids and I all migrated across the street to our neighbors' house for dinner. They mentioned the tornado sirens. Tornado sirens? I've never lived in a place that had sirens for anything- how exciting! Later, as I walked home to get some napkins, I heard them for myself, and couldn't suppress a huge smile. Tornado sirens! (No one seemed worried, and our neighbors are from Oklahoma, so I figure they know when to be scared.)

Back at home, in the middle of father-less bedtime chaos, the phone rang. My cousin Laura was on the line with her parents, the three of them driving back to L.A. from a weekend at Joshua Tree national park. I told them my exciting news of the tornado sirens and my Aunt asked if I had gotten naked and locked myself in my closet. That's when I decided I had to tell the story of the great tornado of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina....

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It was late summer, and my cousin and I were just finishing up a several-week stint with our grandparents at their beach house in the Outer Banks. We were probably eight and ten.

It was late afternoon, and we had on our matching sparkly black bikinis from Belk's. We floated on our backs in the ocean and pretended not to hear Grandmom's calls for us to come on in, it was time to go home for supper. Realizing we were hungry, we eventually made our way to shore, just as a woman walked past, relaying news of a tornado watch in effect.

Laura and I looked up at the sky and saw black clouds moving in. Panic took over in our little-girl minds and we forsook our towels, flip-flops, even our beloved grandmother, and sprinted for the beach house. Grandmom ran behind, shouting "Girls! Girls! At least put your shoes on!", but we paid her no heed, now fully caught up in our imagined drama.

Back at the house I, being the older, wiser cousin, divined that it would be safest to head for an upstairs closet (not sure what my logic was there). We locked ourselves in and commenced crying and carrying on. At some point, Grandmom knocked on the closet door and insisted that we take off our wet bathing suits or we would catch cold. We obliged, opening the door a crack, tossing them out and quickly slamming it shut again. Now we were soaking wet, naked and carrying on in a dark closet.

About this time it occurred to us that we couldn't account for our grandfather's whereabouts. We heard the water turn on, and were able to infer that he was stubbornly taking an outdoor shower in the middle of a life-threatening clamity. This allowed us to work ourselves into an even greater frenzy, complete with wails of, "Grandaddy, please, COME INSIDE!!! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN THE TORNADO!!!"

"GRANDMOM, GO AND GET HIM! HE'S GOING TO DIE! TELL HIM TO COME IN THE CLOSET WITH US!!!"

"WE WANT OUR MOTHERS!"

And so on.

Eventually we got bored in the closet. The rain stopped, and we came out and put on dry clothes. We had many more happy summers at the beach with our grandparents before they sold the house my sophomore year in college. I haven't been to the Outer Banks since. But thinking back to this afternoon's sirens, there's still a bit of that little girl in me, who loves to drama of a good storm.

Fortunately I now keep my clothes on:).

Tired

I'm tired. Not I-didn't-sleep-well-last-night-tired. Or I'm-getting-over-a-cold tired. Or we-just-got-home-from-a-trip tired. Or even waking-up-in-the-night-with-the-baby-good-thing-she's-so-cute tired. In fact the baby, bless her sweet heart, has been sleeping through the night for over a month now.

This is more like a chronic, life-is-moving-really-fast-and-I'm-stumbling-behind-trying-my-best-to-keep-up tired. I won't bore you with the list of things on my plate- I'm sure they're familiar to you. And I'm sure things will settle down and/or my capacity to handle them will increase. But sometimes I wish I had my own giant purple Bumbo that I could climb into and just zonk out. Must be nice.