A Year in the Life

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

 Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Moments so dear

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

How Do You Measure - Measure A Year?

 In Daylights - In Sunsets

In Midnights - In Cups Of Coffee

In Inches - In Miles

In Laughter - In Strife

In - Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes

How Do You Measure A Year In The Life?

How About Love? How About Love? How About Love?

Measure In Love

Seasons of Love.

Seasons of Love.

Lyrics: RENT

Merry Christmas

Wordless Wednesday

Packed & Ready to Go

In an attempt earlier today to start packing for our holiday trip to Minnesota, I set a suitcase in Sara's room.  It didn't take her long to discover the suitcase, which prompted her to let me know that she was going to pack her things for the trip.  I left her to it in her room, and a few minutes later she beckoned me to come zip the suitcase for her.  She had put time and effort to packing the most crucial necessesities: her red cape, a chewy, her blanket, and a big-ol' pile of books.  Sara then announced that she was ready to go the airport.  While I did remind her that we would not be using the airport for this particular trip (and she looked at me like I had just escaped from the nut house because, after all, we only ever get to G & G's by first going to the airport), I didn't have the heart to tell her that we'd probably need to repack her suitcase before leaving home.  I sure do appreciate her sweet effort!  And seriously, how easy would travel be if all we needed was a blanket, some books, and a cape?  Maybe she's on to something here...

'Tis the Season

Christmas Eve is a week away!  When it comes to Christmas, I still feel like a little kid ... I wait for it all year long, and in the blink of an eye, it's over.  I'm definitely one of those people who gets the post-Christmas blues when all of the decorations come down and the carols on the radio turn back into regular old bad music.  I vote for year-round Christmas, but admit that it wouldn't be nearly as exciting as it is as a holiday that comes once a year.

Sara asks almost daily if it's Christmas Day yet.  I love seeing her excitement and enchantment this year.  We've been faithful to the chocolate Advent calendar, which really pays no homage at all to Advent since there is a big picture of Santa Claus on the front, but it has turned into an excellent learning opportunity each day as we look for precisely the right number to correspond with the date.  Among other parts of the season, the Advent calendar bit has me taking notice of my great inadequacies in teaching my daughter about the real reason for - and meaning of - Christmas.  Sometimes I think I'm totally failing in this department, but then I recognize that it's hard for me to preach what I don't practice.  That's a larger topic for another day.

Tomorrow we're heading to Flower Mound to celebrate an early Christmas with Steve's parents and brother.  We've opted to go out to eat, and neither my mother-in-law nor I are sad about the fact that we won't be cooking on this particular occassion.  As if Sara didn't come home from her birthday party with enough toys, I know that tomorrow will be the beginning of yet another windfall for her.  It's possible that, very shortly, I'm going to need a bigger house just to accomodate my three-year-old's belongings.

On Wednesday, we're hopping in the car for our second road trip to MN.  After the first one, when Sara was six months old, we found that the trip, though long, really was pretty enjoyable.  Then when I realized flights to MN for the holidays would cost $500 a piece, which would result in nobody receiving gifts as well as unnecessary financial stress, we quickly convinced ourselves that a road trip again it would be.  We have plans to stay on the Plaza in KCMO on Wednesday night.  We haven't been there in ages, and the Plaza has long been known for its holiday lights display.  I'm excited to spend a fun and festive night there, and hope we'll be lucky enough to hear the carol on the radio that says something to the effect of, "It's Christmas in Kansas City - snow is on the ground - the Plaza lights are pretty - it's good to be in my hometown..."  The song itself isn't what I'd call a hit, but it made us laugh a lot when we lived there.

Speaking of snow, I hope we'll see some in MN.  As of today, according to my mom, it has all melted.  We need enough to take at least a few good sled rides down the hill behind my parents' house.  And a White Christmas would be wonderful.  Regardless, I am looking forward to just getting home and relaxing for a bit.

The shopping is done, the presents are wrapped, and I absolutely ate my way through the last week thanks to the festivities at work ... c'mon, Christmas!

I believe in bows.

As soon as I found out that my baby would be a girl, I started buying bows.  While I know that some people find it obnoxious, unnecessary, or inappropriately role-defining, I just can't help but love bow-headed little girls.  And Sara has turned into (most days) a girl who won't leave the house without a bow upon her sweet head.  But for all the bows and dresses and frilly clothes that Sara wore as a baby, she hasn't been defined by such items.   As you know, she fell hard early on for Thomas the Train, Batman, Superman, and other so-called boy toys.

I have never fought Sara's obsession with trains and superheroes.  What would have been the point?  For the longest, she wanted only to wear Thomas pajamas, and we let her.  When she wanted a Batmobile for Christmas, she got one.  She kept wearing bows and dresses happily, but her heart belonged to toys that wouldn't fall under the traditional girl category.  People told me that my daughter was a tomboy, some in tones that indicated I should do something about it.  I didn't, and as it turns out, I didn't need to.

One day about six or seven months ago, Sara woke up and decided she was a princess.  A princess who loves her some Thomas, mind you, but a princess nonetheless (she wants a Green Lantern and dress-up for Christmas).  This notion intensified with our trip to Disney, and has only grown by leaps and bounds since.  And all of this happened without any prompting or encouraging on my part.  She is programed, after all, as a girl, and right at about two-and-a-half, the princess built into her DNA magically kicked in. 

Now it's princess dresses, princess bedspread, princess curtain, princess dolls, princess tea sets and t-shirts and panties and everything else you can imagine.  It's like a little princess heaven in our playroom.  I laugh to myself at how much Sara has changed in her three short years, and how she seems to have adopted a love for certain things for no other reason than that she's a girl and, well, that's just what girls do. 

When I was pregnant with my little girl, I had visions of a princess in my head.  And now a princess is exactly what I have, in the flesh.  Could it have been the bows?  It must have been the bows.

Birthday Festivities

We celebrated Sara's birthday over the course of three days.  Friday: cupcakes at school; Saturday: party with friends; Sunday: special day with mom and dad.  So I understood her confusion when, on Friday morning on our drive to school, she asked, "Mommy, am I three yet?"

I debated for a long time over where to have Sara's birthday party (actually, I first debated whether to have one at all, but my mom talked me into it).  A co-worked suggested McDonald's, and I'm so glad she did.  It was inexpensive (especially compared to other places), fun (food + play area), and easy (they provided everything from food to cake to goody bags for ten kids ... all we had to do was show up).  I guess I thought the McDonald's birthday party had become a thing of the past (of my past, specifically), but - oh, no - it was on in full force!

Sara & Audrey: birthday BFFs.

 This is Parker.  Sara talks about riding on the tire swing with him.  A lot.  According to Parker's mom, he also talks about Sara.  A lot.  There might be something there.  How cute is he?!

The only one standing in Parker's way could be this guy: Corbin.  If everyone had cancelled last minute and only Corbin would have been able to attend the party, Sara would have been just as happy ... we all love this boy!

 After Charlotte came to Sara's party, we turned around and went to a cookie party at Charlotte's.  Charlotte is about to be 4, and I think Sara wants to be just like her when she grows up.

 Ms. Ashley, one of Sara's teachers, came to the party.  The kids were all excited to see her, and I thought it was so sweet for her to give up a Saturday afternoon to spend more time with the kids she sees everyday.

Sunday was the real birthday.  When Sara woke up, I told her, "Today is your birthday!  You are THREE now!"  She was so excited.  We started the day with a special breakfast of eggs, hash browns, bacon, and cinnamon rolls. 

Later in the day, we went to open skate for Sara's first skating experience.  As many of you can guess, I have literally been waiting years for this (it might as well have been my birthday!).  Sara has a Pinkalicious book about ice skating, and has been asking about it for a while.  My days of teaching little ones came in handy as we practiced "march-march-marching" off and on the ice.

 Sara was hesitant at first, but soon caught on and made a few good laps around the rink.

She took a short break on the bench in between laps.  When we left, she said she wants to skate again.  Success! 

We ended our celebration with a meal at Matt's, complete with a complimentary ice cream sombrero that we all enjoyed.  This morning Sara asked, "Is my birthday over?"  I told her that yes, her birthday is over.  She then asked, "Am I still three?"  I assured her that she is still three, and that she will be three for a whole entire year.  To this, she responded, "WOW!  I got SO big, Mommy!" (Sigh.)

Three

Three is the first odd prime number.  It's the number of bones in a human elbow.  There are three main galaxy constellations.  It's the number that represents the Holy Trinity.  According to Pythagoras, three is the noblest of all digits.  Three is the number of French hens in "The Twelve Days of Christmas".  It's the number of points a football team earns for a field goal, and a hockey player achieves a hat-trick by making three goals in the same game.  Everyone knows the stories of The Three Musketeers, the Three Blind Mice, The Three Little Pigs, and The Three Bears.

And for three years, I have lived with an intensified purpose.

Three years ago, we met our precious baby girl.  And we became a family of three.

My sweet Sara Noel is three years old today, and I can hardly believe it. 

 Happy Birthday, beautiful girl.  I couldn't love anyone more.

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

On Tuesday night, Sara's school put on their annual Christmas show at a nearby performing arts center.  This was the first year for Sara's class to perform in the program.  By the time we were seated in the auditorium with hundreds of other people, I had myself completely convinced that Sara would get up on the stage, see all the people, and freeze.  Although her class had been practicing since October 1st, I was certain that stage fright would set in.  Well, shame on me for underestimating my girl.  Except for getting distracted at one point when she lost her hat and bow, she was all about the performance.  She sang and danced her little heart out, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  I might have done a little of both.

(I know these pictures all look the same, but they're not.)

 

 

 

 

Christmas Kick-Off: Parade in Review

Saturday morning we headed downtown on the DART to attend the Children's Medical Center's Annual Christmas Parade.  I believe this was the 24th year for the parade.  It was Steve's fourth time at the parade (he worked it twice), and it was our second time to attend as a family.  After just two trips to the parade, it's becoming a beloved tradition.

 

 Near the beginning of the parade, I loved these large, inflatable Christmas lights.  They weren't necessarily the highlight, but they made me smile.

 The parade is sponsored by a number of corporate organizations, and supports the efforts of Children's.  These Pizza Hut corporate volunteers each carried red balloons; each balloon represented a child currently being served at Children's.  While I appreciate that we have such an outstanding medical facility right in our backyard, I sure hope we don't ever need it for anything.  Seeing these balloons, and thinking about the kids who will spend this Christmas season in the hospital, was pretty sobering.  The price of our bleacher seats and Sara's souvenier elf were well worth it when I considered where the money would go. 

 Abby Cadabby was one of many featured balloons.  Bob the Builder, the Nutcracker (which Sara said was not a nutcracker, but a prince), and Elmo were also in attendance, all battling with the wind, but looking happy in spite of it.

 I love this little face.  Sara liked looking to see who was coming next. 

We all enjoyed multiple band and dance performances throughout the parade, especially those from The Cowboy Band from Hardin-Simmons University and the dancers of Ballet Folklorico.  Another huge hit: the large number of live animals, which included llamas, horses, and dogs.

As for the characters, Captain America and Clifford were among Sara's favorites, as was

the Green Lantern.  He's currently one of her most beloved super heroes. (Steve has had no influence on this child whatsoever, can't you tell?)

 This pic is for my sis: "...though she's very small, inside she's tall!"

 The parade ended, of course, with an appearance from The Man Himself, Santa Claus!  Sara was very happy to see him, but did wonder why he wasn't bringing any presents.

When all was said and done, she said her favorite part of the parade was the train that made bubbles ...

Instead of fighting the crowds to get back on the train, we took our time eating lunch downtown.  When we finished, the Cowboy Band was giving an impromptu performance at a nearby plaza.  As they played, Sara sang at the top of her lungs (she's not one to be outdone, apparently).

If you live in the DFW area and haven't been to the Children's parade, put it on your calendar for next year.  It's such a fun and festive way to kick-off the holiday season, and it's something your family will start to look forward to all year. 

Short Sara Stories

Backseat Driver

My mom has backseat driver tendencies.  So do I.  And while it's happening sooner than I expected, so does Sara.  She recently learned about traffic lights at school, and she doesn't hesitate to announce what I'm supposed to do as we approach any intersection with a stoplight.  If she sees green, she says, "You better go, Mom."  If she sees yellow, she says, "Yellow means slow down."  If she sees red, she says, "You have to stop, Mom."  Right turn on red?  NO WAY.  Yield to through-traffic while making a left turn on green?  NO WAY.  To her, it's all black and white.  Or red and green, to be more precise.

I Don't Think So
Sara has discovered the phrase, "I don't think so," and she's gotten good at using it in context.  It's not as defiant as "NO" and it implies that she's thought through something before coming to a decision.  While it's cute, it's starting to get in the way here and there.  For example, when I ask Sara to clean up some toys, she'll say, "Hmmm ... I don't think so."  You know, as if she has something better to do.  When I ask whether she wants to get out of bed in the mornings, she usually doesn't think so.  The biggest issue is that when I ask her a question that is typically more of a request than an actual question, I, for one, "do think so" regarding the task at hand.   So you can see how we end up at a bit of a crossroads (which is a nice way to say power struggle).

What Kind?
I remember hearing people talk about the "but, why?" phase that kids go through.  Sara's in the "what kind?" phase, which I imagine to be similar.  Driving home from school lately, we have enjoyed looking at all of the Christmas decorations.  We recently had a conversation that went like this:
Sara: "I see a snowman, Mom."
Me: "Wow, I see it, too!"
Sara: "What kind of snowman is it?"
Me: "A white snowman."
Sara: "What kind of white snowman?"
Me: "A big, white snowman."
Sara: "What kind of big, white snowman?"
Me: "A nice, big, white snowman."
Sara: "What kind of nice, big, white snowman?"
... You get the picture.  Many of our conversations go on and on like this.  Once in a while I'm lucky enough to stumble across the jackpot answer that Sara deems satisfactory and she'll say, "Ooohhh, okay," as if saying, "Now I get it.  You should have just said that the first time." 
P.S. Yes, we live in Texas.  The snowman was inflatable.

Wordless Wednesday: Trim-the-Tree Edition

 

 

Book Talk

I recently read an Ann Packer novel for the first time, The Dive From Clausen's Pier.  The majority of the story was set in Madison, and starts with a tragic accident that leaves Mike paralyzed.  His girlfriend, who was already beginning to distance herself prior to the accident, is torn between leaving for good and staying.  There isn't a simple answer.  I think many of us can identify with having to make significant choices that hold the possibility - or even the certainty - of hurting someone we love.  The Dive From Clausen's Pier is a story of heartbreak, perceived betrayal, and a physical and emotional journey to find an answer that simply, and sadly, may not exist.  Packer's story read, to me, like those of Kristen Hannah and Anita Shreve. 

 The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh is, by far, one of the very best book I have read in a long time.  I was sad when I realized I had turned the last page, because I just didn't want it to end.  This will be my feeble attempt to summarize this beautiful story, but know that I'm barely scratching the surface.  Based on the idea that in the Victorian Era, flowers were exchanged with a specific message in mind, this is the story of Victoria, a foster child who finds herself eighteen, emancipated from "the system", and without anything but a small box of belongings.  As Victoria looks for her place, both literally and figuratively, she remembers her year with Elizabeth, her would-be adoptive mother.  She recalls the circumstances that ultimately left her on her own, and finds herself struggling to find wings without roots.  Embedded throughout is the language of flowers, in which Victoria ultimately finds her purpose.  Although you will cry through most of it, you'll fall in love with this story.

Paula McLain's The Paris Wife has been on my to-read list for a while, and now that I've read it, I hardly know where to begin.  While this is the fictional portrayal of the marriage between Ernest Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley, the people and events were real.  The author did take liberties in trying to delve more deeply into the characters' thoughts and emotions, but used myriad resources to relay much of the truth.  The Paris Wife is an absolutely heartbreaking love story.  Hemingway fought many personal demons throughout his life, which ultimately led to his suicide in 1961.  Hadley was on the verge of becoming an old maid when she met Ernest in the early 1920's in Chicago, and what they had together changed both of their lives in every measurable and immeasurable way.  As a reader, I both loved and hated them - individually and as a pair.  As Hadley was facing the ultimate betrayal at the hands of Ernest, I wanted her to be strong, pack her bags, gather their son, and leave him high and dry.  I wanted her to be a character she wasn't, but because Hadley was more than just a character in her lifetime, I had to let the real story unfold before a conclusion presented itself.  I loved this book for the story it told; I like to think about Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, and others who wrote some of our most beloved classics sharing drinks over dinner.  And I loved this story because - despite the heartbreak that ensued - Hemingway would write later in his life that he "would rather have died than fallen in love with anyone but Hadley."  Poignant and nearly perfect.

"No matter how busy you may think you are, you must find time for reading, or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance.”

Confucius