Martin Luther King, Jr. and Casey

Casey shares his birthday with Martin Luther King, Jr. The actual date-- January 15th. What a great figure to share a birthday with. Not only does Casey get to celebrate his birthday with a day off of school each year, but he also gets an annual reminder of the power of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s message. Hopefully someday Casey will understand the significance of MLK, Jr. day, of the role he had in building a better America, of the dream he's so famous for.

Of course Casey's a little young for that now. But we do try and take advantage of the day off school each year to do something fun. This year we celebrated Casey's birthday on his birthday. I showed up at school to read Casey's class a story and help them sing Happy Birthday to him. I brought muffins, and they were a big hit. I brought my mom with me, and she sat next to him during story time. I read one of his new favorite books (he got it for Christmas): Pirates Don't Change Diapers.

My parents were in town, and we met up with Jason's parents, and some of Casey's aunts and uncles at Casey's favorite restaurant, Red Robin. Here's one of my favorite mini-videos of Casey dancing at his party:

Of course his birthday celebration didn't end at Red Robin. After we returned home, he played for a few minutes with his most coveted gift, a remote control James that Jason's parents got him. Then he climbed up on my dad's shoulders while they read books, which Aunt Tiffany and Uncle Bobby got Casey for his birthday (sidebar- I love having sisters in law who are teachers and buy the kids terrific books for holidays!).

And we scheduled his birthday party for today, Martin Luther King, Jr.'s official holiday. We thought it'd give kids without school something to do for the day. We can never count on the weather in January, and I was a little glad today was rainy because it justified an afternoon at Pump it Up, and inflatable play zone, where kids can run around in their socks from bouncy house to bouncy house. Marcie liked the obstacle course and the giant slide. And the kids burned off a whole lotta energy.

I'm always surprised and amazed at the generosity of other kids. I mean, yeah, these pre-planned parties are pricey. We pay a premium for the convenience of letting someone else clean up, print up invitations, and generally run things. It's worth it, if you can afford it of course, because having forty people traipse through your house on a rainy day-- especially when your house is on the smallish size like ours-- is a lot of cleaning. And if you've been reading this blog for any period of time, you know that not only am I not particularly good at cleaning, but I also just don't like it. Anyway, Casey's birthday this year was an example of generosity. People were thoughtful and although we had Casey wait until we got home to open presents (except for those few whose givers really wanted to see Casey's reaction), it was worth the wait for him. We'll probably set aside many, many of the gifts, and slowly bring them out throughout the year. Except for the clothes. Those will go into immediate circulation.

And one last thought-- I am so surprised at how well some of those kids write! I could tell many of them wrote their own names and Casey's name. And I suppose I was writing when I was five, too. But . . . wow. . . now that I'm parenting a five year old, it's just so much more impressive.

And I will leave you all with a final photo. We used money my grandparents sent the kids to buy them a Melissa & Doug easel (which really is wonderful). The kids primarily use it for the white board and chalk board, but this weekend, Casey and I set up the paints my parents gave him as a birthday gift while Marcie was taking a nap. Here's my beautiful, funny, creative five year old son:

1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Dear Casey,

Last week when I asked you if you knew how old you'd be on your birthday (which is tomorrow), you sang the numbers: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5. You sang them in near perfect scales, and as you did so, you showed me each finger on your left hand. I felt proud.

This morning after I helped you put your helmet on so you could go out back to ride your bike, you turned to Marcie and said, "Do you need some help, too, Sweetie?" You had such a soft expression on your face, and I could see your intense desire to really help her. And I felt proud.

This evening after dinner when we were working on your speech homework, I asked you to put the car on the bed and the shirt on dresser because that's what the assignment sheet instructed me to ask you to do. You told me that isn't where the car and the shirt go, and you put the car on the floor and the shirt in the closet. I felt proud.

This past weekend, you pieced together a giant train track. There was an inner circle and an outer circle. You added an elevated section and a bridge. You used your battery-operated trains to push the freight cars, and you giggled in delight as you let them run into each other. Earlier in the day when I was trying to put together a track of my own, I asked you if we should a bumper on the end of one piece of track. You told me, "That's a great idea, Mom." I smiled and thanked you. And I felt proud.

You've grown up so much this year, Casey. Sometimes I think back to the snowy day five years ago when I held you in my arms for the first time. You seemed so tiny and fragile to me then, squawking for food, your face a deep plum red. And I felt so grateful at the opportunity to finally be a mom-- your mom. And five years later, I still do.

It's only been five years. And already, I've learned so much from you. You've taught me patience and reminded me how fun it is to be silly. This year, you've brought me along with you to chase ducks and to ride a scooter. You've shown me amusement parks through fresh eyes. You've reminded me that there's no such thing as too many kisses, that the tickle monster is a child's favorite "fear," and that bubble gum can be dessert and breakfast, too.

And this year you've learned a lot, too. Not only can you count to fifty, and do you know all the letters of the alphabet, but you know their sounds and you recognize whole words, too. You can write the letters A, E, and L (though sometimes you write them backwards), and you can draw smiley faces. You memorized the Pledge of Allegiance, you say grace each night before dinner, and you can sing more songs than I can count. You have something of a shoe fetish-- almost as many pairs as I have! This year you learned how to swim and you played soccer and baseball. You can talk on the phone to your birth family and to Grandma. And you quip about how much you love each of your friends at school. Some nights you ask to eat broccoli with your dinner, and you've begun eating other new foods, too-- macaroni and cheese, croutons, carrot sticks, and chicken noodle soup to name a few.

I love you, Casey. I love your silly faces and your happy songs. I love that you ask me why until I can't think of a reason any more. I love when you dress yourself in striped shirts and patterned pants, and I love that you wear your costumes-- Spiderman, Superman, and Buzz Lightyear wherever we go. I love your zest for life. And I love being your mother.

Happy, happy birthday, Casey. I love you.

Love,
Mommy

Drunk Drivers

Have you ever seen a drunk driver on the road? Before last night, I don't think I had.

We were on our way to Souplantation for dinner, which never came to fruition because the line backed up out the door into the parking lot. We were following a green sedan, and it began drifting into the right lane. At first, I just thought the driver was changing lanes without signaling. But just as soon as she drifted into the right lane, she'd drift back in front of us.

Then, she began slowing down. We were in a 45 zone, and at one point she came nearly to a stop. Then, when she began driving again, she began drifting again. Jason commented that she was a drunk driver, and I decided to call the police. But who do you call? I mean, on the freeways, there are signs that say to call 9-1-1 to report a drunk driver, and I'd always wondered how you'd know the driver was drunk. But I was on surface streets.

When we came to a stop to turn the corner, we pulled up next to the driver. And it turned out it was an elderly lady. I commented that it was just an old driver, not a drunk one. And Jason pointed out that the elderly get drunk, too.

In the end, the CHP 9-1-1 (which is who you get connected to automatically when you call 9-1-1 from your cell phone) connected me to San Diego's 9-1-1, and I reported the driver. I gave a great description of the vehicle, including the license plate, the direction the driver was headed, and what I could see about the driver herself.

Who knows if the police got to her. Who knows if she made it to her destination safely. I just hope no one got hurt. It made me nervous just watching her drive. And it's certainly possible she wasn't drunk and was just a bad driver. But that doesn't really make me feel any better.

Just a Glimpse

I know at least my mom is wondering how Disneyland went in the rain. It didn't start raining until around 4pm. Here's a quick peek:

For those of you who stumbled on this blog after searching Disneyland and rain, here's some information. First, unless you are on vacation and have no other day you can go, reschedule. We got lucky that it didn't rain until around 4pm. It wasn't a hard rain when it did start raining, but it was steady. And it wasn't much fun navigating the park with toddlers in ponchos, trying to keep the stroller and the kids and myself dry. If I had teenagers, I'd still go-- the park is empty, and there's plenty to do. And teens don't get as needy and aren't as hard to wrangle in the rain. But for those of you with little ones, stay home. Say Disneyland has closed (even though it never does for the rain). Take a rain check-- that's what they're for.

That said, if there's some reason you have to go (like we had reservations at Club 33 and were going to pay whether or not we went), here's how we prepared for the rain:

• We purchased cheap rain boots for the kids from Target, and I even got some pretty darn ugly ones for myself. The kids wore them all day. I kept mine in a locker in case I needed them if my feet got wet. We tucked the kids' pants into their socks, so their feet would stay dry and tucked in.
• We purchased cheap rain ponchos and carried them with us. They sell them at Disneyland, of course, but for a premium price. We were able to try ours on early, and cut the bottoms on the kids' so they wouldn't trip. Unfortunately, Jason and his dad's tore straight open. Of course a rain coat will keep you dry, too-- just not as much of you. Some people had rain suits on; that's an option.
• We brought umbrellas and used them. It's hard to see what's going on with a hood up. Plus our golf umbrella was huge, so we left it covering the stroller any time we went on a ride, to keep things dry in our absence.
• We lined the bottom of our backpack with a trash bag, and we packed everything in one and two gallon zip lock bags inside the backpack. This way we didn't have to worry about diapers getting soaked accidentally. It also allowed us to carry a couple changes of clothes for the kids with us, just in case.
• We brought extra trash bags with us in case we needed them as emergency ponchos or stroller covers, but we didn't need them.
• We brought a fitted stroller cover for the double stroller. It worked well, but the kids felt pretty claustrophobic in it. If you don't have one, try to get a clear poncho to put on the stroller.
• We had contingency rain plans. That is, we'd scoped out exactly what rides we'd go to in the rain so that we could keep moving and stay indoors as much as possible. Many, many rides are indoors-- like Star Tours and Small World and Pirates of the Caribbean and the Haunted Mansion. The train is covered, Buzz Lightyear is indoors. So is Space Mountain and Indiana Jones. You get the idea. Just knowing a route to take relieved me of some stress.
• We talked with the kids about the potential for rain and what it would mean in advance, just so they'd understand if we had to leave early or anything.

So those are some things to do in the rain at the Disneyland Park. We had contingencies for California Adventure, too, but we just never made it over there. Maybe next time. Hopefully not in the rain.

Good-bye 2007, Hello 2008

It's hard to believe another year has passed already. It's true, sometimes time seems to crawl-- like when you're waiting for an adoption referral you were told would take about 6 months and it's already been 2 full years (those poor families waiting for children from China!). But more often then not, time flies by. The older I grow, the faster it flies. My marriage seemed to speed up time. And then came Casey. Now I have a hard time shifting out of fifth gear long enough to enjoy the company.

2007, like the year before it, brought a lot of change, and it also helped us settle into some new routines. For me, 2007 was all about finishing law school. Of course, there were other big events in 2007, besides law school graduation. Like sitting for the bar exam. Passing the bar. Saying good bye to my work family, where I'd found myself comfortably cozied into my cubicle for about 5 1/2 years. Starting a new job. Traveling to Ohio to visit with extended family and to observe one my closest friend's weddings. Traveling to North Carolina to visit with another dear, dear friend and to visit with my parents. Testing out pretty much all the public transportation San Diego has to offer. Playing at Disneyland. Celebrating my eighth wedding anniversary, joining friends in trips to Las Vegas, and making cakes for my kids' 4th and 2nd birthdays. And who could forget the Fire Storm, which sent us packing-- literally, albeit temporarily.

2007 was a reprieve from the catastrophic-type illnesses that had seemed to plague our extended family during the preceding three years. It was a year of final chapters and of new beginnings. In 2007 Marcie left Grandma S.'s exceptional care for the world of preschool. We said good bye to our faithful Honda Accord in exchange for a 2007 Odyssey. Casey switched sports from soccer to baseball and swimming, at least for a while.

In 2007, we welcomed a new nephew, a new brother-in-law-to-be, and learned we'll be adding a seventh nephew (or niece-- we don't have any of those yet) to our family.

So we have much to look forward to in 2008. Though we're in for a long wait to China for B.S. #3, we've tentatively decided to pursue an adoption in the interim, probably from Ethiopia. We plan to begin that process in 2008. Casey will start kindergarten this fall (!), and my sister Megan, my sister in law Tiffany, and my best friend Ann are all getting married in 2008. In 2008 we will finish landscaping our back yard. We will visit Disneyland (again). We'll celebrate our ninth wedding anniversary, the 35th year of our lives, and we'll dance a happy dance as our children turn 5 and 3.

In 2008 we will become experts at Rock Band, we'll teach Casey to ride his bike without training wheels, and we'll squeal in delight as Marcie become officially toilet-trained. In 2008, we will laugh and love and sing and dance. We will appreciate all that we have, and all that we are. We will try to, as Emily put it in Thornton Wilder's Our Town, appreciate "every, every minute" while we live it.

I'm not naive to think 2008 will be without its disappointments and pitfalls. But it's only January 2nd. So let's start off this year with the "glass half full" mentality, shall we? No resolutions, except to try to appreciate life and all that it offers . . .

I'm Featured!

Check me out! I was interviewed at Connecting Moms about adoption. You can read my interview here. I was surprised by the invitation. After all, I'm nothing special. But it's still awfully flattering to read my interview their site!

Ringing in the New Year- Sort Of

This year we decided to host an east coast New Year's Eve party. Well, party might be a bit strong of a word. And host probably isn't exactly accurate. But the east coast part is dead-on.

We attempted to make New Year's Eve plans over a month ago, but faltered in our efforts, completely lost track of time, and then just gave up. I'm sure Jason's parents would have been happy to have the kids sleep over to give us the freedom to do whatever we wanted, but I just didn't feel like being without the kids. I like having them at home asleep. In the rooms next to me, of course.

So on the day before Christmas, when we went to meet my brother Bryan, his wife Tram, and their kids Joey and Ethan for a Red Robin meal, I mentioned that we both had to work, but we'd love to have them over to do New Year's Eve-- east coast style, that is. And luckily they were free, too. (I sense a pattern here-- parents with young children without plans out for New Year's Eve. . . )

I wanted to order in Chinese food, but we couldn't think of any good take-out Chinese in the area. So Bryan and I headed off for take-out Vietnamese food nearby. Unfortunately, there was some sort of language barrier or miscommunication (that's what we get for sending the two Whiteys to get the food instead of the woman who actually speaks Vietnamese!). Instead of three meals, we ended up with two (presumably the gentleman who took our order shook his head in wonder about why the two of us would want four meals). And we didn't realize it until we were packaged back in the car, with Marcie buckled in the back seat (she insisted on joining us). So we stopped at Wendy's on the way home for burgers and fries for me and Bryan.


It was good company, though. The kids ate while Bryan and I were picking up food. A decadent meal of fish sticks, chicken nuggets, shrimp wantons, and pizza rolls. Oh, and the force-fed vegetables and fruits, of course. Casey and Joey played while we ate, and Ethan rocked in his portable swing and eyeballed us the whole time (those portable swings are super-cool!).


After dinner, we commenced with the evening's entertainment and dessert. For the kids, that meant hot chocolate with marshmallows (yum!). (Side note-- if you have a lactose-intolerant child, just heat up half a cup or so of soy milk for 45 seconds in the microwave, add a couple squirts of reduced sugar Hershey's syrup, toss in a hand full of miniature marshmallows and stir-- and voila!-- hot chocolate!) For the grown-ups, that meant chocolate chip muffins (which actually came around 9pm) and several rounds of Rock Band, in which Jason consistently scores 100% in the singing. He got it for Christmas, and we've had a blast rocking out around here since. (Notice Ethan in the swing in the background-- no matter how loud the rock group got or the screaming preschoolers running in circles around Bryan and Tram were, Ethan just slept away. Those portable swings totally rock!)


The picture that stole the evening was of the three older ones hanging out in the Dora Hideaway, clinging for dear life in fear that the Tickle Monster (that would be me) would roar right in after them:

And, at about 6 minutes until 9pm, we shut down the live band, channel surfed our way to CNBC, which was showing Carson Daly's New Year's Eve, grabbed glasses of champagne and sparkling wine compliments of Bryan and Tram, and prepared to count down as the ball dropped. The kids prepared with their half-filled plastic cups of water, as they walked around the family room, clinking cups and shouting, "CHEERS!" And we taste-tested the two beverage options as we waited for the last 10 seconds of 2007 in New York to arrive.

Then, as the ball dropped, we all counted down from 10 together, hooted out a Happy New Year, heartily "cheersed" each other, and drank down our respective drinks, hugging and kissing each other along the way. And I know we weren't the only ones celebrating the east coast's new year at 9pm because we could hear the clanging of pots and pans in the neighborhood nearby.

Exhausted, our kids gave final farewells to their cousins and their aunt and uncle before falling into bed. And Marcie, enamored of Ethan the entire evening was delighted to finally get a chance to hug and hold him. We, too, were exhausted. But we still rocked a little to Jason's Christmas gift Rock Band before we fell into bed ourselves. I think I may have been technically still awake at midnight here in California, but it was much more fun to celebrate the start of a New Year as an entire family. And who knows, maybe next year I'll actually plan a real event. But probably not. Impromptu gatherings with loved ones always make for the best memories.

Before and After, A Christmas Story

Before:

After:

Before:


After:

Before:

After:

Before:

After:

It was an exhausting day. And all this by 11am (our kids graciously slept in until 6:00am Christmas morning, which we are particularly thankful for because we waited up until well after 2:00am to see if we could catch Santa and help him set up any toys he might be leaving for them. As you can see, Santa's gifts were pretty involved this year, and the kids were happy they were ready to play with when they saw them at long last.).

The rest of the day was wonderful, too. We had a turkey lunch around noon. The whole family napped after lunch until around 3:00pm, and we headed over to Jason's parents' house after that, where the kids were showered with more gifts, and the family was treated to news of double happiness. Jason's sister Tiffany became engaged Christmas morning, and his other sister Jessica and her husband Jon announced they will become first-time parents in July. What a joyous afternoon an evening. We celebrated over a prime rib roast meal, games of Rock Band together, and the Money Game, a tradition Jason's mom created about three years ago, where everyone walks away a winner. Literally. The kids fell asleep on the way home, and we fell into bed, snuggled up, and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of all the food we'd eaten and laughter we'd shared. It was a very merry Christmas.

Casey upon seeing his train set from Santa.

Marcie trying out her new kitchen set from Santa. She made herself "chocolate milk."

The day after Christmas, geared up to go scooter riding with scooters from Grandma and Grandpa S.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

This morning one of my brothers came over with his family. He made the pancakes and I made the bacon. The boys played quietly and nicely while we cooked and chatted. We used light Hershey's chocolate syrup for the syrup. The boys gobbled it up. Marcie was enormed of her cousin Ethan. She wished she was old enough and strong enough to hold him.

Later in the afternoon, we went to the 4pm children's choir mass. We were there by 3:20. So was everyone else. There were literally no seats. This is where we sat:

Jason and I bet on what the topic of the homily would be. He said it'd be about the wise men. I said it would be about love. We were both wrong. Though the magi were at least mentioned. The closest the priest came to mentioning love was talking about family. I think. I couldn't really hear anything because were were in the cry room the whole mass and it was pretty loud.

Highlights of mass included Casey finally catching on to the song with clapping just as the song was ending and Casey sort of pulling down his pants. I thought his resolute clap, which he did at the end of the song kicked ass. As for the pants incident, it wasn't his fault. He was trying to show the little girl his super-cool Thomas underwear. Of course, he's not always easy to understand, so her grandmother didn't understand that, and they looked a little panicked. I, of course, thought it was hilarious.

All was not lost for Christmas Eve-- and it's not over yet anyway. But here are a few of my favorite photos of the kids (sorry about the red-eye issue):

Dear Northern Quilted,

A couple weeks ago when my husband came home from grocery shopping with your brand of toilet paper, I was irate.

"Northern Quilted?!?" I demanded. "Where's my Charmin?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, looking at me like it was the first time we'd ever discussed toilet paper brands. "This is two ply. It's less expensive. 'Nuf said."

"I mean, I could understand Cottonelle," I went on, "but Northern Quilted?!?" I didn't let up. "WHAT were you thinking?"

He just stared. Blinked a couple times. Shrugged his shoulders.

"You don't understand," I cried.

"I guess you're right," he admitted. "I don't."

"I have to wipe myself every time I use the bathroom. You only wipe sometimes. And maybe hardly ever at all at home," I tried to explain, exasperated that this wasn't all more obvious. "That makes me the toilet paper expert. And if I say that Charmin is the way to go, why don't you believe me?" I asked.

He shrugged again.

The next time I was in the store, I bought some Charmin. But there were still two rolls of our Northern Quilted left. Now, Northern Quilted Executives, I'm sure you're wondering at this point why I'm writing you this letter. So let me cut to the chase. Your toilet paper has nearly saved Christmas. Seriously. Please, let me explain.

You see, I did all our Christmas shopping last week, and I was trying to avoid returning to the grocery store until after the holiday. I thought we had two rolls of paper towel, but it turns out I was wrong. Yesterday, when we ran out of paper towel, we shifted to napkins. But today, we ran out of napkins. Just as our Christmas brunch guests were arriving.

We made it through brunch, but when it came time to start cleaning, we weren't sure what we would do. Jason was scrubbing the glass-top stove, scraping the stuck-on food with a razor blade.

"Try the Northern Quilted toilet paper," I quipped. "It's rough enough. And we sure don't have any other use for it."

He laughed. But then he figured he may as well give it a shot. And darned if it didn't work terrifically. It didn't fall apart. It didn't get all soggy and stringy. Sure, it's not quite as harsh in texture as a paper towel, but apparently it's just as sturdy.

So, Northern Quilted, I'm writing first to thank you for your fine, quality toilet paper, which we are now using as paper towel replacements. And I'm also writing to suggest you re-market your toilet paper. It's not as soft as you claim in your commercials. But it is very soft for paper towels. I think you could rival Bounty-- because the Northern Quilted was a much quicker picker-upper. It did beautiful cleaning work in our home. I myself would be happy to buy a Northern Quilted paper towel.

Thank you for saving our pre-Christmas cleaning with your toilet paper/ paper towel product.

Happy Holidays,

Karen S.

Failed Holiday Experiments

This holiday season has been chalk full of well meaning attempts at holiday cheer. But it's also been a series of one failed experiment after the next. I already wrote about the Gingerbread House Experiment, but my craft-like failures don't end there. I am many things. But a Martha Stewart competitor is not one of them.

For example, I really wanted to do my traditional sugar cookies with the kids. Casey is finally old enough and has good enough listening skills to help make and decorate them. But I couldn't find my recipe. I fear it got tossed in one of my many manic cleaning sprees over the past year, and my mom and my sister were both out of town for the holidays, so I couldn't ask them for the recipe (I could ask, but who carries their cookie recipes with them when they travel?).

So I decided to take a short cut. I bought two bars of Pillsbury sugar cookies. I left one refrigerated and let the other sit on the counter for a couple hours before I gathered the children to begin baking. I mixed the two rolls so that the consistency was right to work with. Casey did a fantastic job rolling the dough, and both kids helped press the cookie cutters into the dough. After we filled a cookie sheet, the kids each decorated half the cookies. So far, so good, right?

Until I pulled the cookies out of the oven. With my homemade ones, there is no stretching and no growing. Things look pretty much exactly as they did when I put the pan in the oven. Not so with these Pillsbury cookies. They look all swollen!

Luckily, they taste just fine.

Never one to give up easily, I joked about my failed sugar cookie experiment with two friends whose families had joined ours for an afternoon of play time for the kids (and grown ups), and dinner. Weeks and weeks ago, I purchased a couple crafts for us to do with the kids. One was penguin beanie hats. I thought it would be fun to make these hats, then get some photos of the kids wearing them while we went to look at the Christmas lights. Three of the four kids seemed relatively interested (Casey wanted nothing to do with it). We followed the directions, gluing all the pieces on. And this is what we were left with:

Um. Yeah. Not so good. And of course I'm not entirely sure where my hot glue gun is. I'll figure it out eventually and get the beanies to my friends' kids, but . . . well, . . . it was just one more failed holiday experiment. Fortunately, my friends don't have very high expectations of me when it comes to my crafty endeavors.

So next time I'll plan ahead to get the sugar cookie recipe (as well as recipes for the other cookies I like-- this year it's just fat sugar cookies and MnM cookies). And I'll have my glue gun handy. Some things you just can't plan for. And because the season is about spending time together as family and recognizing all the wonderful things we have to be grateful for, it doesn't really matter that my cookies look funny or that the hats fell apart. What matters are the memories we made. And really, if everything went exactly according to plan, what fun would that be?

Surprise Package

One thing about parenting a child who happens to be adopted is that holidays take on a slightly different significance. I'm sure this is not true for everyone. Probably just me, in fact. And that's because for me holidays are all about family. Well, food, too. Food and family. But my favorite thing about the holidays is that we all take the time to really spend it together. Doing stuff.

And so especially around the holidays, I think about the people who we don't get to share our time with. And that's not specific to adoption. I only see my parents at Christmas time about every three years. And the last time I saw them on Thanksgiving was my freshman year of college, I think-- over ten years ago. And I don't just think about them on the holiday but also during the days and weeks leading up to the day.

I'm very conscious of this with Casey, and less so with Marcie. I think this is because I know Casey's birth family. They aren't just an elusive concept; they're real people with real names. And I talk to them. Send them a Christmas card. They're family. But I never feel badly that they are missing out on spending Christmas with Casey. It could be because I know they don't celebrate Christmas, as it's not part of their religious beliefs. Or maybe I just never really thought about it at all.

But this year, I have. I've been thinking about the trip they're taking this week. I've been thinking about the small presents we've been collecting since we saw them in August. Gifts we'll get around to mailing at some point. And I've been thinking about their role in Casey's life-- how lucky we are to have them as family.

And today Casey's birth family unwittingly participated in our family time. You see, they mailed a surprise package, which the kids and I opened up yesterday morning. It was filled with those popcorn curls, and we had to dig deep in, which the kids loved. Inside was an outfit for each child, the book Guess How Much I Love You (doesn't that speak volumes about how they feel about our kids?), and a toy for each child (Cars toys for Casey and a Lily for Marcie). They also mailed us a Dora blanket and a Dora blow up sleeping bag, which they'd purchased for Marcie to use during our stay with them last summer.

So tonight after dinner, the kids cozied into their pajamas early, we blew up their sleeping bags, and they curled up inside for a night in at the movies. They watched Ratatouille for the umpteenth time before heading off to bed (they bathed earlier in the day, which is a story for another post). Not before I caught a shot of them, of course.

Today I've been thinking about Marcie's birth family, too. I've been thinking about how much better my holiday season is with Marcie here to help celebrate. That's not any different than how I feel any time of year; it just feels magnified for me around the holidays. I loved Christmas when I was a mom to one. But watching them interact, feeling Casey's anticipation of Santa's arrival, it's so much more fun as a mom of two.

Lights, Lights, and More Lights

One of my favorite things to do during the holidays is look at Christmas lights. We're fortunate because in our city, there are two sections of neighborhoods known to be terrific for light viewing. I know this because I looked it up on the Internet last year, and there the information was at About.com. The best part of all is that both sections are in our neighborhood-- our subdivision, anyway.

Casey's been asking to go for a while, but every weekend it's been rainy or we've been sick, or we've had other plans. But tonight, we made time. After a quick bite to eat, we headed over to the area known as Candy Cane Lane. It got this name 20 years ago when the houses along the cul-de-sac all lined their driveways and walkways with candy canes. And it grew from there. Their electric bills go up $200 during the Christmas season. People drive through with the lights on their cars. Families hang out on their driveways around portable fire pits. People hand out free hot chocolate and hot apple cider. And then there are carollers. It's pretty cool.

Pictures really just don't do it justice, but here are a few -- to give you an idea of what it's like:

Casey and Marcie all bundled up to walk the three cul-de-sacs, including the famous Candy Cane Lane.

The first house on the corner of Candy Cane Lane.


A couple houses down-- see how they have strings of lights that connect houses across the street from each other?


Me and Marcie in front of one of the houses. You can't tell as much from this picture, but the lights covered even the branches of the palm trees.

Part of what I love about garish Christmas lights like the ones on this street is that you know it can't just be for the homeowners. They aren't spending weeks stringing up hundreds of strands of Christmas lights just because they like how it looks when they arrive home from work. I mean, I'm sure they do like their own work. But they do it for reasons much bigger than just themselves. They do it so that people like me can come enjoy the sights. And that's a little bit of what Christmas is all about, isn't it? Giving to other people a small part of ourselves?

A couple weeks ago, a lighted NOEL sign in a neighbor's yard was knocked over and vandalized. I know this because the next day, when we saw it was knocked down, we noted the hand-made sign erected next to the fallen-down NOEL. It stated quite simply: Vandals. Saturday night. And everyone who passed that house knew exactly what happened. They put up their NOEL again the following weekend, and it seems to be standing just fine. I was mad at the vandals, of course. How dare they take away such joy from others? For what? A few moments of activity in an otherwise bored (and boring) existence?

Tonight, as we passed by homeowners hanging out in their driveways, I went out of my way to thank them for putting up their lights and decorations. One homeowner was plugging in some music onto loud speakers-- his lights were timed to blink on and off with the beat of the music. I told him how much we appreciated his efforts and enjoyed walking the streets each year. He told us it was a lot of work-- every morning he has to re-arrange all the pieces. Vandals, he explained. And we both shook our heads in dismay. What to do, though? Give up? Not decorate? Thankfully, this man believes the lights are worth the effort of re-arranging day in and day out. Otherwise, the grinch-like vandals might win out-- but the Spirit of Christmas is pretty tough to beat, even when it comes in the form of Vegas-style lights.

Swiss Family Robinson

Tonight as I was turning the corner onto our street coming home from work (at 10:00 pm), I chuckled as I drove past the Swiss Family Robinson's house. They aren't really the Robinsons. Or Swiss. But it's what I call them now.

I wish I had snapped a photo before the rain began, but I forgot. So I'll do my best to describe it. This corner house is a two story house with a three car garage. It has an old-style garage door, which folds up and is made of wood. I'm personally a fan of the the roll up kind that most people have now, but as long as the wood isn't too warped, who am I to judge?

A couple weeks ago, they had a painter stop by their home and paint each of 4 or 5 different wooden squares on their garage a different color. The entire facade of the two story home is wooden-shingled. So we assumed they were seeking a color for the trim that would match the nature wood coloring of the wooden shingles.

We were wrong. The house now has a redwood tint to it. The garage door is two more tones of brownish. And the trim is a deep and bright evergreen color. It looks like a chalet out of the Swiss Alps.

And it stands out even more because they are one of the only houses on the street with no holiday decorations. I guess they spent all their money on the new paint job. In general, I'm a fan of "to each his own," but I have to be honest-- I'm glad I don't live across the street from them. I know. Not very Christmas Spirity of me. But honest.

I'm hopeful tomorrow I'll have something more cheerful to write about. It will be the star to of a four-day weekend for me, culminating in Christmas day. I'm looking forward to it.

Ghost of Christmas Past

When I was a toddler, I was a bit of an explorer. And it often got me into trouble. My parents had one of those accordion-style gates, which when stretched created diamonds. That's just how baby gates were in the mid-70s. But I was a small child, and I could squeeze myself through the wooden slats to climb the stairs.

On one such occasion, I found my way into my parents' bathroom so I could apply some eye liner. The thing was I didn't know eye liner from nail polish. And somehow, I managed to untwist the nail polish bottle and attempt to apply the polish to my eye. I guess my mom found me before I did any real damage. I don't remember the incident, of course. But I've heard the story enough, and it's been told in consistently the same way, so I figure it's gotta be true.

On another occasion, one I do have some memory of, I climbed up on the toilet lid, pulled myself onto the sink counter top, stepped into the sink, and flung the medicine cabinet open. Inside I found a bottle of Sure deodorant. The roll-on kind. And I licked it like an ice cream cone. The whole thing. I don't remember its taste, though it couldn't have been that bad if I managed to practically empty the container. Eventually my mom caught up with me and called poison control. And what I remember, aside from climbing from the toilet seat lid to the sink counter top, is having to drink a whole bunch of milk to balance out the "poison" I'd licked into my stomach. But I didn't have to go to the hospital and get my stomach pumped or anything, so that was good. I'm not much of a milk fan, and I secretly (or not so secretly now) attribute that to my deodorant licking adventure.

Well, this morning after I left for work, our impish little Marcie managed to get herself into some trouble, too. I wasn't here, so it was all relayed to me via a phone call I received an hour or two after I'd arrived at work.

Marcie somehow cut her lip. We think it must have just been dry and split, but we just can't really know. How did Jason discover the lip injury? Casey came to tattle on Marcie-- he wanted to be sure Jason knew Marcie had "drawn on her lips with red marker." Of course Jason took one look and knew the crimson color was no marker lines.

After checking out Marcie and making sure she was okay, Jason went into the kitchen. Where he found two chairs pulled up in front of the refrigerator, with the freezer door flung wide open. When he inquired why the chairs were there, Casey explained they wanted to eat some ice, so he and Marcie decided to get it themselves. (They were unsuccessful because the ice is in a drawer, in bag.) Jason closed the door, but worried about how resourceful Casey has become in recent months. We can't help but wonder if Marcie is helping scheme.

Finally, Jason returned to our bedroom and the master bathroom to finish getting ready for work. He noticed the kids' step stool, which pretty much permanently sits in their bathroom in front of their sink, was sitting in front of our sinks instead. He briefly wondered why, and then he quickly got his answer. When he opened his deodorant. There, on his solid bar of deodorant were clear blood markings. As if Marcie had either A. attempted to stop the bleeding by holding the deodorant to her mouth like a bar of ice, or B. decided to test out her own deodorant Popsicle. There were no striations from teeth scraping the top or bite marks, but we imagine Marcie's mouth was nice and dry for quite a while this morning.

On the one hand, I know I should be worried. Very worried. On the other hand, I can't help but think, "That's my girl."

Dichotomy

I'd like to think I present professionally at work. I'd like to think people take me seriously. I'd like to think the work I do is important and helps resolve big conflicts, making the world a tiny bit more peaceful. I'd like to think of myself as a power player, a go-to girl, a one-to-watch, an inspiration, and a force to be reckoned with. In my mind's eye, I'm all these things. Even in my five foot body, in my mind's eye, I see eye-to-eye with the big boys.

But I know it's just in my head. Because the other day, I saw myself for who I really am. There I was, dressed nicely in work clothes, sitting forward on the edge of the couch. My black back, filled with a redwell of papers and a legal pad of notes, lay on the floor next to the couch. The Blackberry peeking out the top of the bag was flashing red, and I was contemplating checking the e-mail messages. All the while, Marcie was perched on my lap, pulling on my nose with one hand and one of my ears with her other hand, giggling. Casey was standing on the couch behind where I sat, pulling up on hair on both sides of my head and waving it up and down like it was feathers instead of hair, laughing uncontrollably. Just at that moment, Jason walked past me toward the kitchen and paused just ever so briefly to glance back at the scene. I looked up at him, half-dazed, half-amused.

That about sums me up. Professional attorney by day. Professional toddler and preschool toy by night.

And for once, I am exactly where I want to be in life. But honestly, it's not because of the job. It's because of the kids. And even though right now is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, I get to experience the love and joy and hope and promise of the Christmas season all year long. That's the best part of being a mom.

Haunted Nativity Scene

In our family, we have a tradition of not putting the baby Jesus in the manger of the nativity scene until Christmas morning, to acknowledge His birth. Once at a party on Christmas Eve, Jason swiped the baby Jesus from the hostess's nativity set and hid it in the Christmas tree, commenting that you can't put the baby Jesus in his place until it's time. But he forgot about it until Christmas morning, and we had to call her the next morning to wish her a Merry Christmas and tell her where her baby Jesus was hidden. We were never invited to another Christmas party after that.

But we maintain our tradition anyway. We have a very elaborate (albeit inexpensive) set we bought when we were first married from what was then K-Mart. There are lots of buildings and bridges and people and animals. But Casey broke so many of the pieces last year that I decided to get something simpler. There's no reason for our kids to play with the nativity set because they have their own Fisher-Price version to play with. With that in mind, I set up our nativity scene (sans baby Jesus just yet) a couple weeks ago. Here's what it looks like:

The morning after I set it all out, when I came into the front hall, this is what I found:

Thinking it was odd, I opened the doors of the manger to find this:

The parts had all been stacked inside, with the angel on her side and the camel upside down, on the angel's head. I opened the doors and re-configured the scene. And left the room for a few minutes. When I returned, here's the chaos I found:

Looks like a storm blew through, knocking over the palm tree (did they have palm trees in Bethlehem?) It took me all morning before I realized that the Nativity Scene was haunted . . . Casey was just having some fun. I can't keep him away from it, despite his very own Fisher-Price set. But at least he's showing an interest in the reason for Christmas.

Tonight he told us at story time that we give presents at Christmas to help celebrate the Baby Jesus's birthday. And he's really looking forward to putting that little baby figurine into his place in the nativity scene.

Ah . . . Time to Myself (Spirit of Christmas Post # 4)

After a quick trip to Costco followed by some time viewing the Walter Anderson's indoor/outdoor train display, Jason and I dropped the kids off at their grandparents' and grabbed a quick bite to eat.

Then I took time for me. To be honest, the time wasn't just for me. I spent most of the afternoon scrap booking. I felt uninspired. I am in the middle of Marcie's baby book-- well, actually I'm at the beginning. This is my third time scrapping our trip to China, and I just didn't feel very creative. Lucky for me, I finished that portion of the book and next time I work on her album, I get to actually start in on her life in America. But I generally enjoy hearing the banter of the other women who scrapbook when I do. And today I ran into someone from high school who recognized and remembered me. This was the second time this week that happened. We chit-chatted about who we've stayed in touch with and what our lives are like.

After I finished up scrap booking, I headed to the mall. I was hesitant to do so. But I was pleasantly surprised. I eased into a parking spot without difficulty and wandered the entire mall-- in an out of stores, pricing gifts in my mind and trying to figure out what to buy Jason. I didn't buy much at the mall. I headed to one other store, where I did pick up a few items, and then I went to the grocery store. I couldn't remember what to buy for our Christmas meal, so I bought what I could remember and headed home.

When I finish this post, I will set out to bake MnM cookies for the bake sale at work tomorrow-- proceeds to benefit charity.

But before I sign off, grateful for a luxurious afternoon to myself, I feel compelled to comment on the state of gift giving. I love the idea of wish lists. They're nice for their suggestive value. Mostly they're useful if there are a lot of items of varying prices from different places. But I see wish lists that primarily look like this (and I'm guilty of this, too):

Gift card to . . .

And while it's nice to let someone know where you like to shop, and we all want the people for whom we're buying to like what we've picked out, I can't help but wonder if we're all just trading money. I understand why we make suggestions-- heck, I even posted lists for Casey and Marcie on Amazon this year to help avoid repetition and give our extended family ideas. There is comfort in knowing that what we've picked out will be welcomed. But Christmas used to be about the process of the giving-- getting good deals, thinking about what a person loves or needs or would enjoy. It used to be about giving a part of ourselves because it took so much of us to pick out the gift. And that seems a little lost now.

Not everyone is a slave to the Christmas wish list phenomenon, though. I have a friend whose family has decided to do theme-gift baskets this year, filled with items for an Italian meal. A gift that's required a lot of thought, and something their family builds together. And another friend of mine's family has decided that instead of giving things this year, they are all giving the gift of time to each other. They've each picked an activity to do with someone else-- so they might go to a ball game or on a walk or to a show. The gift is of each other, of friendship.

And while I'm not quite ready to give up on gift lists completely, this year I've decided to quietly and subtly boycott them, at least a tiny bit. I've really stretched myself to pick something for each person that they have not asked for, but which I think they'll like. I don't know how well-received my scheme will be. I'm hopeful my thoughtfulness will be appreciated. But just in case, I've also purchased something from each lists, so I think I'll be safe.

Festival of Lights (Spirit of Christmas Post # 3)

Each year we attempt to visit the Wild Animal Park's Festival of Lights. It is not related to Hanukkah except that it shares the name. It's called the "Festival of Lights" because the park is lit up with light displays all over the place-- some trees, some animal shapes, some lights just dangling from branches. They build a snow hill and invite the kids to sled down it. They have craft booths set up throughout the park with activities for kids to complete. There's face painting and cooking decorating, and a night time safari bus tour.

We tried to get Casey to stop and check out the crafts, but he made a bee line for the far-away snow hill. After playing for less than 5 minutes in the small area set aside for children 4 and under, Casey insisted we get in line for sledding. He's never been. Once in line, he opted to leave for a few minutes after viewing the chocolate frostinged cookie Marcie was chomping on so that he could create his own chocolate frosting monstrosity. Then, after we were back in line he became antsy almost immediately. The wait was 40 minutes long, and we lasted about 15 minutes before he insisted we go see something else.

We meandered over to the sleeping lions and found our way to the safari bus, which we rode as part of an abbreviated tour through the heart of Africa. We saw plenty of animals-- rhinoceroses, giraffes, antelope, deer of all different kinds, water fowl, and even some bunnies. And Marcie was enthralled. She screamed in sheer joy, called out hello and good bye, and stomped her tiny feet in place in her excitement. I've never seen her so engrossed in something-- and so alert-- for such an extended period of time.

When our tour came to an end, we hopped off the bus and over to the hot chocolate line, where Jason and the kids imbibed some hot chocolate milk, and then we headed back for the van. We weren't even out of the parking lot before the kids fell asleep.

This was the third or fourth year in a row we've gone to the Animal Park's Festival of Lights, and each time we go, we're so glad we did. We hope we've established a tradition that will live on at least for a while. What a great cause-- to support animal conservation-- and all the while learning about animals and snacking on cookies and hot chocolate. Really, what more could one ask for out of the holiday season?

Oh. A good picture. That's always a bonus. And I have just the right thing:


Me and the kids as we were departing on our safari tour through the Heart of Africa.