12 months, 12 pictures

In January, we took many walks in the cold:

In February, we visited friends in PA, and also found out we were having another girl:

In March, Joy and Papa turned into plumbers:

In April, we spent much time at the park and I endured my final month-and-a-half of pregnancy:

In May, our beautiful Gracie was born:

In June, the sisters started to get used to each other:

In July, we surprised Mom and Dad with a visit, and played in puddles:

In August, it got unbearably hot, and Mamma got creative with water:

In September, Carl had a birthday and received Calvin's Commentaries:

In October, we went hiking and marvelled at the beauty of God's creation:

In November, Joy turned two and celebrated with many balloons:

In December, we celebrated Christmas, family, a heated house, and Louise no longer being pregnant:

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,     

The flying cloud, the frosty light:     

The year is dying in the night; 

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

***

Ring out the old, ring in the new,    

 Ring, happy bells, across the snow:    

 The year is going, let him go; 

Ring out the false, ring in the true.

(There's more, but these are my favourite verses)

Retrospect

I keep forgetting that today is Wednesday, not Saturday. As he did last week, Carl took today and tomorrow off from work. So he's been home all day; we went shopping this morning, as we usually do on Saturday; he's been studying in the living room while the girls are napping and I've been trying my hardest to complete Joy's quilt; in all ways, it feels like the weekend.

Is anyone else slightly stunned that tomorrow is that last day of the year--already? Not only that, but the last of the decade? Does anyone else remember the whole Y2K panic, back in '99? I remember it quite clearly; my boss at the time was obsessed with the affair, convinced the civilised world was going to utterly collapse and we'd be left with chaos and anarchy. He believed it so fervently that when January 1, 2000 passed without so much of the flicker of an eyelash ... well, he's been fixated on conspiracy theories ever since, almost like he has to find something to make up for the massive disappointment of 2000.

2000 was a fun year for me, aside from my nutty boss. I turned eighteen, graduated high school, went to St. Lucia for a second year, started working with Dad in Lake Placid as volunteers at various sporting events almost every weekend during the winter, and some during the summer ... I had lunch out with my gang of friends once a week, started thinking about whether or not I wanted to go to college, wrote lots (nothing that was any good, but still), and pretty much just thoroughly enjoyed my last bit of carefree youth.

In 2001 I met Carl, and we started to become friends. By the end of 2002, we were dating. We got engaged in 2003, married in 2004. I started college in 2002 (and am still waiting to finish). By 2007 I had a baby; another joined our family just this past spring. Life changed pretty quickly for me, and in a pretty big way, after 2000.

I wonder, will I look back on 2010, ten years from now, and marvel at how much my life has changed in a decade? I'm sure I will, though it's hard to imagine any changes any bigger than the ones I've seen this decade--marriage and children are pretty defining events in any person's life.

One thing hasn't changed in the last ten years, nor in any past recollection I have. The Lord is still my Saviour, my Helper, my Guide, my Comforter, my Friend, and my King. God's love has never wavered, not once, and his hand has taken me along every step of this life's journey.

In a world full of "change and decay," when you blink and an entire decade has passed, there is great comfort and hope in serving a God who is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

My Daughter, oh yes, she is

I just went upstairs to get Joy "up" from her nap (up in quotations because she wasn't actually sleeping, just playing quietly in her room), and as soon as she saw me she sat down and proceeded to "read" to me from one of her new Curious George books. This is how it went:

"Here Baby Gracie. Hi Baby, have good sleep, good nap. Joy have good sleep, too!"

My kid--just barely two years old--is already making up stories. I cannot even begin to express how giddy with delight this makes me.

(Although should I be concerned that she identifies pictures of a monkey with her baby sister?)

A Happy Ending

I just realised that I never posted the conclusion of our mildew saga. Since I am doing considerably better than I was yesterday, despite only getting about four hours of sleep, I decided to write about something good that has happened recently.

So. The Tuesday before Christmas, our lone working upstairs radiator--the one in the hallway--gave out. Stopped working. We were now getting NO heat at all upstairs. Carl and I were both ready to scream. Or cry. Maybe even both, at the same time. (These sort of reactions become more common after having babies around for a while.)

Carl had already planned on taking Wednesday off from work, so Wednesday morning as we were getting ready to head out to the library, he spotted Gary (our landlord) and managed to actually talk to him about the heat. Last Gary had heard, all the radiators worked (so once again, this is probably something that happened when the former tenant was here, and he just never thought to fix it or mention it to Gary). He said he would call the heating company right away. By the time we were back from the library, he had called, and they had promised to send someone out that afternoon. Before 4:00, someone was there inspecting the boiler. Turns out something was off with the pressure valve. They fixed it, bled the radiators, and voila! we had heat. Every Single Room upstairs.

By that evening, we saw a significant decrease in the moisture on the walls in ours and Joy's room. The Damp Rid started to work. By the end of the week, the wall in our room was dry enough that Carl was able to move my dresser back in place. We are planning this week to clean out Joy's closet completely (it needs organising anyway), clean up any mildew that we missed before, and then I'll actually be able to hang her clothes back in her closet instead of mine.

Isn't God good? I had been dreading dealing with this problem, and it turned out to be so simple. Too often, it seems simple things turn out to be more of a problem than could be anticipated, and it's wonderful when something happens the other way.

Now, if only Joy's second-year molars would end up coming in with the same unexpected ease! (And all of Gracie's teeth, for that matter ...)

No Multitudes, Today

You might have noticed that I haven't done the Multitudes Monday for a few weeks. I could claim this is because my gratitude journal is buried in the diaper bag and I haven't been able to write anything down in it. And that would be true.

However, it is also true to say that I haven't really had any great desire to pull it out and start keeping track of thankfulness lately.

Holidays are always stressful, I think. I was talking to my friend Jo the other day about the holidays, and we decided that they tend to bring out a lot of latent tensions in the family. (Unless your family is like mine, and has no latent tensions anymore (because we talk about EVERYTHING), in which case the only stress comes from watching your mother and sister make great elaborate plans to keep things simple.) Things that might not normally be considered issues crop up; memories that might be better left in the past are re-awakened; expectations are piled on with a shovel.

We had a perfectly nice Christmas. (Except for Carl's maniac driving between here and his mother's.) But somehow I still came away from it exhausted and stressed, and wishing we had joined Laura and her husband in the Bahamas this Christmas! The day after Christmas was spent in even more exhaustion, sorting through the plethora of presents his family had given us and the girls, and yesterday was spent trying slowly to restore our life to some semblance of normalcy.

(I have to interrupt this to share what is going on in my dining room right now while I type: Joy is sitting on the floor in her pyjamas reading her library books, while Gracie (also in pj's) leans halfway out of her swing to peer over her sister's shoulder at the books. Such things always bring a smile to this tired mamma's face.)

I really have nothing about which I can complain. I don't have any desire to complain, really. I'm just tired. And weary. And mildly, vaguely, blue.

All of this to say why I am not doing the Multitudes Monday today. I will try to improve my attitude this week, and hopefully next week I'll return with a list twice as long to make up for my recent absences!

The Christmas Elves

How was your Christmas?

Merry Christmas to all ...

We did our family Christmas today, since tomorrow will be spent with Carl's family. I made cinnamon rolls and bacon for breakfast (Joy ate 3 rolls!), we opened the last door on our advent calendar, and then we opened presents. Technically, the rest of them opened presents; I received mine at Thanksgiving (and am currently typing on it, so you can see how awesome of a present it was). Gracie had to be carried upstairs for a nap partway through--at seven months, no present is worth more than a good sleep. Joy, however, thoroughly entered into the Christmas spirit, tearing paper and cooing in delight over her new books and clothes (the books garnered more delight than the clothes, believe it or not), even helping Papa and Gracie open their presents, too.

Now both girls are upstairs, supposedly napping (though the wee one is complaining in her crib and the slightly larger one is playing with toys and books in her room and alternating between singing "Jingle Bells" and "Baby Beluga"), and Carl's studying Hebrew. I just finished the fourth one-shot of my Christmas fanfictions and am debating between working some more on Joy's quilt (we didn't make it in time for Christmas, so now my goal is New Year's) and drinking hot chocolate and reading one of my new library books. Which do you think is winning?

Two Christmases ago, Joy was not quite two months, colicky and miserable. Carl's family came out from Massachusetts to spend Christmas with us, and proceeded to snipe at each other the entire time (and place unreasonable expectations on us). It is not a memory I cherish.

Last Christmas, I was pregnant and we had just moved. We spent Christmas at my parents', and it was fun but still exhausting.

This Christmas, Joy's eyes lit like stars when she came downstairs and saw the tree all lit up (we usually only light it in the evenings, never in the morning). She loves to sing carols, listen to Christmas music on my laptop, look at the ornaments, open the doors on the advent calendar. Gracie is only seven months, but loves doing whatever we're doing and is certainly old enough to take delight in music and lights and pretty packages.

This Christmas, we're a family of four. It's our first Christmas ever with just us. The calendar may say that tomorrow is Christmas Day, but for us, we've already had Christmas.

And it was the best one yet.

Christmas Nostalgia

Yesterday, I managed to get all the Christmas presents wrapped. Traditionally, my sister and I would always wrap presents together, with the rolls of wrapping paper in between us as a barrier, while watching old Christmas movies such as "White Christmas" or "Holiday Inn"; sometimes we'd even watch holiday skating shows.

So it still seems wrong to me to wrap without my sis there by my side, hogging the scissors or the tape, giggling with me over silly little jokes nobody else would find funny.

I did watch The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, at least, while wrapping, because it is close to physically impossible for me to do presents without a movie of some sort. I figured any of the traditional ones would make me too lonely for Lis, so I decided to start a new tradition of Narnia movies at Christmastime.

And then I watched Bones, which wasn't Christmasy at all. It did, however, get me through the last few presents.

Holidays are always a little difficult for me since getting married. Since my dad worked six to seven days a week all through my childhood, holidays were the only time we got a whole day with all four of us together, and so we always made a huge deal out of them. Most of my holiday traditions are somehow entwined in family, so much so that it's hard to separate the action from the tradition--even something as simple as wrapping presents.

It's fun to start new holiday traditions with my own family, and will get even better as the girls get older and can participate in things, such as making pomanders with me, or decorating Christmas cookies, or even just drinking hot cocoa and watching Christmas movies. I suspect that a part of me, though, will always miss those days of plotting Christmas surprises with Lis, of watching old movies and laughing together, even of decorating the Christmas tree with her coming along behind me and moving every ornament I place.

I hope that someday, when my girls are grown and have families of their own, they too will feel a nostalgic twinge at Christmastime, because their memories will be just as special.

Monday Meanderings

I started writing some Christmas LM Montgomery one-shots this weekend, based on characters I've created in her world. I'm currently trying to write about Shirley and Cecily's second (and final) Christmas together, and I've written myself into a corner. Shirley is trying to find the perfect gift for his bride of less than two years, whom they know is going to die in the spring because her body isn't strong enough to recover from giving birth to twins, and he wonders, what DO you get for someone in this circumstance? And I realised, danged if I know, either! So it's Christmas Eve and Shirley is frantically searching the shops of Lake Placid, and I'm trying to figure out how to give him a nice epiphany so he's not overwhelmed with sorrow, and find the perfect gift at the same time. He's likely to be stuck there for a long time.

&&

Gracie decided randomly last night that she wanted to do much awakening and little sleeping, between the hours of 9:00 pm and 1:00 am. So not fun. Joy has decided for a week now that apparently naps are overrated (as is sleeping past 6:30 am), so she's been cranky and overtired, too.

Thankfully, Carl is only working two days this week (and next week!), so we will be able to have some nice downtime, just our family relaxing together, no pressures. Carl might even get some studying in. I might actually finish Joy's quilt in time for Christmas--or at least New Year's. If the snow stays, we might even make it to the park with the sled for Joy.

&&

Carl and I were talking the other day about children, and if we were to have another one, and, quite frankly, shuddering at the thought. Then, me being me, I had to start wondering, if we did have another child, what would we name this one? We used the Russian name for Joy, the Welsh name for Grace, and we don't really have any other particular cultures we'd like to incorporate into our family.

I settled on Corin for a boy (Narnia and Celtic, yay!), but could not come up with anything both Carl and I liked for a girl (which process was not helped by Carl rolling his eyes and repeating "We're not having any more children, why are you even thinking about this?!?!?!"). My best choices were Leslie (pretty, old-fashioned, not too common anymore); Lucy (Narnia again); Eirlys or Eilwen (Welsh, and pretty), or Mererid (also Welsh); or Nadia (Russian).

Thinking more about it, I also like Tesni, which means "warmth" in Welsh, or possibly even Sarai, except people would probably end up calling her Sarah.

Any opinions on this? I repeat: We Are NOT Having Another Child. This is just a bit of silliness, mostly because I like playing with names. I will also take suggestions of names not on this list.

&&

And finally, my friends, a couple of pictures to start your week. One that sends both Carl and me into delighted gales of laughter every time we look at it (I emailed it to Carl specifically so he could open it up and look at it whenever he feels glum--hey, maybe I ought to email him a copy at work, too), and one that is just simply sweet.

"Duuuude ..."

Before church--all dressed up and so sweet!

Christmas Special

As promised, Christmas pictures of Gracie:

To rekindle joy

Ever notice that as soon as you make a decision regarding your attitude, you receive test upon test? Well, that's happened to me this week. After thinking on Saturday and Sunday (and writing about on Monday) the importance of enjoying every moment of life right now, it seems we've had challenges galore thrown at us. Potty-training, teething, mildew, in-laws (a story that will not make it onto the blog, so don't even ask) ... come yesterday, I was ready to throw up my hands and quit. "How can I have joy in the day when life sucks right now?" I asked Carl in exasperation Wednesday night.

Drastic action was required. So yesterday morning, I called Dad at work and asked if we could talk on his lunch break. At 12:15, ten minutes after I finished sweeping up the shards of glass from the two wine glasses I shattered while trying to clean behind the wine cabinet (that's what you get for trying to be thorough in your cleaning!), he called back, and I was able to vent. He did what he does so well: listened, laughed with me, sympathised with me, and encouraged me. I got off the phone feeling a hundred times better. Circumstances hadn't changed, but thanks to Dad, my focus had shifted back to where it should be: on the joy and freedom we have in Christ.

And then later I was even able to take a few Christmas pictures of Joy (hopefully I'll get some of Gracie today or tomorrow).

(please ignore the diaper sticking out of her pants)

Less than a week until Christmas, my friends!

And look, more issues!

Since you all were so helpful with the potty-training (and I mean that--it's amazing how much better I felt about everything after reading all your comments), I have another issue to place before you.

Damp. And mildew. And water that sits on walls. That then grows mildew.

Our house is old. As in, on the historic register old. Upstairs, only the radiator in the hallway works. The bedrooms get no heat. Downstairs, the bathroom does not have a fan or vent or anything, so all the condensation from showers does not dissipate. Also, the dryer vent does not go outside unless I open the window in the laundry room and aim it out. Even then, much of the hot, damp air blows back inside, creating more condensation.

So, we recently discovered that the one outside wall in the bedrooms--ours and Joy's--gets major condensation built up on the inside whenever it's cold out. Which then drips directly onto objects, or else infuses the air with so much moisture that we get--you guessed it--mildew. We had to throw out two old pairs of Joy's shoes because they were too badly mildewed to save once we discovered the problem. I was, thankfully, able to save her favourite red dress by soaking it in vinegar water and then washing it. The mattress pad to the Pack'n'Play was only saved by judicious application of bleach. Both Carl's nightstand and my dresser have mildew growing on their backs (this is the dresser I have had ever since I was a little girl, and if I lose it now to damp, I am going to be Very Put Out).

We've hung Damp Rid in the bedrooms, but there's still water on the walls. Carl's going to figure out if the radiators can be made to work in the bedrooms to keep things warmer and (hopefully) drier in there. He's also going to talk to our landlord, but I'm so afraid that his reaction is going to be the same as it was when we told him about the washing machine not working--a blank stare and "well, nobody else ever complained." (Which is when Carl and I have a very hard time not telling him that, based on our experiences in this house thus far, the tenant before us was a moron.)

I keep getting this sinking feeling that there's not going to be anything we can do, and we're going to be left with a choice: either stay here and risk asthma or other respiratory problems in us and the girls, or move. Again. Try to find another place to live--a place that is not an apartment complex, but that doesn't mean we have to buy a house. And really, how likely is that? This house was such a gift from God, dropped in our laps when we had to move, and I hate the thought of leaving. But I hate even more the thought of endangering my children's health by staying in a mildew-infested house.

So, although I am asking for any ideas on how to fix this problem, I'm mostly asking for prayer. I'm hoping I'm blowing this out of proportion--but I'm afraid it really is going to end up a big deal, and I would definitely feel better knowing that others as well as us were lifting this before the throne of grace.

Torture or Training?

Potty-training:

Epic FAIL.

Who else has had a kid so stubborn she sits on the potty for AN HOUR AND A HALF, through two cups of juice and half a bottle of water, without going, only to go in her diaper the moment you put her in it again? And those of you who have had such a child, what did you do?

Obviously, controlling her bladder is not a problem. It's simply a matter of convincing her it's better to do her business on the toilet rather than in the diaper. And how to do that is causing us to scratch our heads. Or, in my case, bang it against a wall.

Also, any of you who have had exceptionally small children when potty-trained, what did you do for underwear? The smallest size I can find is still about an inch and a half too big around the waist for my petite Joy.

Right now I'm starting to think it might just be easier to keep her in diapers until she's three or four--the smallest underwear should fit her by then, and she ought to be able to better understand the concept of it being much more pleasant to not sit in one's own filth.

(kidding Carl, I'm kidding!)

I can tell you this, though--we are starting the training with Gracie much earlier, so that she doesn't have long to get used to going in her diaper, and can more easily adapt to the toilet.

Which, at this point, might mean I actually am potty-training them both at the same time in a few months!

And if that happens, expect to see me out running in the streets, screaming in agony.

It'll be great.

Number the Days

I'm taking a break from Multitude Monday today to write about something that is rather important to me--enough so that I don't want to wait until tomorrow, or Wednesday, or whenever my next chance to blog happens (seeing as how we've moved into full-blown potty training with Joy, free time to write has become even scarcer than before).

Carl and I have a habit of always looking forward, usually a few years in the future. "Things will be better when ..." fill in the blank. Carl's at seminary. The girls are older. Joy is potty-trained :) We aren't dealing with teeth. When Gracie starts sleeping through the night. When I have time to write and study again ...

None of those things are bad. Looking forward isn't, in and of itself, bad. But I realised the other day that I was getting so focused on tomorrow that I was forgetting to enjoy today. "If I found out suddenly that I have cancer," I thought, sort of out of the blue, "and only had a year to live, I would be so mad at myself for not appreciating this time more, for not living in the moment. If I suddenly found out that I didn't have tomorrow, I wouldn't feel cheated out of the future so much as cheated of the present--by myself."

I don't want to spend my days waiting. Waiting for that perfect moment in time, when life is rosy and golden. I don't want to be so focused on what is to come that I can't enjoy what I have right now.

So, I am purposing to enjoy this day, this moment. Yes, even to rejoice in Joy's crankiness because of teeth, to smile at my Gracie when she wakes up for the third time a night wanting to eat, to be thankful for now, right now.

We aren't guaranteed tomorrow. All we can be certain of is this moment.

So let's live it with joy.

Opinions Needed!

Carl informed me the other evening that my new winter background is creepy because the snowmen's eyes glow. I pointed out that their mouths, arms, buttons, noses, etc. all glowed too, but he still says it's creepy. Anyone else think it's a problem? 'Cause I don't want to be creeping people out every time they come to my site this winter, but I love the snowflakes and really don't want to have to change my background unless it's necessary.

In The Morning

Gracie started sleeping so much better this week--only waking up once a night most nights, twice one night, but that was because I fell asleep before her 10:00 feeding, so she slept through that to wake at 11:00 instead.

Interestingly enough, I also haven't had any coffee since Saturday morning. I'm starting to wonder if there's a connection there ... if even one cup of caffeine in enough to affect the little girl's sleep. If so, it's a vicious cycle, because when she keeps me awake half the night, I need that caffeine to make it through the day without a horrible headache by 3:00.

The really nice thing about getting more sleep at night (aside from the obvious), is that for the last couple of days, I've actually been able to get up before Joy wakes up, instead of dragging myself out of bed when I hear her voice chattering away in her room. Yesterday I was up when both the girls were still asleep; today Gracie got up with me, and then when back to bed after a little bit. So, for a half hour or so in the morning, I have been able to have a wee bit of time to myself. I light a candle in the dimness of the sun still rising, fix myself a cup of tea (less caffeine than coffee), and read the Bible. Yesterday I read through Philippians; this morning I read Ephesians.

I'm not sure if the timing will work out to do this every morning, but oh, the difference it has made to me these last two days. I hope very much that I'm able to continue this, and it does give me hope that eventually, when Gracie is weaned, I will be able to do this sort of thing regularly.

In the meantime, I'm just grateful for the time I've had. Even if tomorrow, I am back to getting up with the girls, at least I've had these two days.

Ho Ho Ho

As promised, my post of Christmas decorating pictures. A day late, but at least it's here. (Trust me, with the day I had yesterday, it's something close to a miracle that I'm not "bah-humbuging" everything again.) Be forewarned, LOTS of pictures here!

Tree and garland-wrapped stairs. Did I mention yet that our Christmas tree was free? We were fully expecting to pay for it, but our landlord (who happens to be the owner of the tree nursery) told us it was on him. NICE.

A tealight holder converted into a small ornament holder, and a vase used for some of the extra ornaments we aren't using on the tree this year (wrong colour--we're doing red and gold again this year)

The orange pomanders I made this year. My hands were sore but smelled SO GOOD afterward--and my dining room mantel still smells dizzying every time I walk past.

A nice Christmas decoration, don't you think?

Joy decided it was time for a break from decorating to read. Smart kid.

What fun family time is complete without dancing? Put on that Celtic Christmas music and rock on, baby!

Three girls. I love this picture.

Irony Abounds

Remember that Shutterfly order that hadn't arrived and was stressing me out on Friday? Well, I let it rest over the weekend, hoping that it would show up and that would be the end of it. It didn't. Then I still waited through Monday. Nothing.

So today, I spent over an hour on websites and listening to automated responses from various customer service divisions, trying to resolve the matter. Finally, I emailed Shutterfly, explaining the situation and asking that they either re-send the photo book or cancel the order altogether. I sent this email from my slightly-more-professional Yahoo account, thinking it would look better than my everyday, confusing-name account.

Then, after I sent the email and signed out of the professional-appearing account, I went ahead and signed in to my everyday account, just to see if I had any messages.

OF COURSE, there was one from Mom, sent right around the same time I had started this whole customer service mess today, telling me that the package arrived and not to worry about it.

I immediately went back to my other account and sent another email to customer service, explaining that the package had just arrived, and asking them to disregard my previous email.

Then I went and found a handy wall against which to bang my head repeatedly.

Somebody please leave a comment on how funny this all is--because right now, although I can objectively see the irony, I'm really not appreciating the humour. At all.

In other news, I think I need to stop weighing and measuring Gracie altogether. I'll be just fine about her until I see her measurements, and then I start fretting that she's too small, she's stopped growing like she should, the pediatrician is going to yell at me for obviously stunting my daughter's growth ...

And then I have to remind myself: A) Breastfed babies are known to put on weight more in the first three months, and then slow down considerably from three to twelve, so this is normal; B) I fretted like crazy with Joy, and she is now of a height that indicates she will likely be an inch or so taller than me when she's fully grown; C) America in general is way too obsessed with wanting all babies to fall into an average, so that they can all be average in school, and in their place of business, and never do anything to shake the system ... whoops. Off soapbox, Louise, on to final point. Which was; D) Gracie eats. A lot. She still nurses every three-four hours (usually three), both day and night (and sometimes every two hours at night, oh joy), and she's doing solids twice a day now. In addition to nursing, not a replacement. If she's only growing a quarter of an inch and a few ounces in a couple of months, it is not due to lack of nourishment. It has to be genetics.

After I go through that whole list I usually feel much better, but really, it would be much simpler to not have to start it at all.

And, apparently, it would also be simpler to never place any online orders ever again. Which would also help the checking account, I suppose ...

Moments of Delight

I finished all my chores (except making supper, which I don't need to do for another half hour or so), had my tea-and-Bible break (finally finished Ch 2 in Hosea, go me!), and can at last do a quick blog post while Joy is playing with the new roll of wrapping paper (thankfully still encased in plastic) and Gracie is napping.

Once again this week, I never had a chance to write down my gratitude list, mostly due to the fact that every time I thought of something, I had neither pen nor paper to hand. I really have to get better about that ...

So, I am going to try to recall as best I can from memory this past week's list. At least I didn't just wait to even think about it until today!

• White snow on a December afternoon
• Citrus and cloves' dizzying scent, filling the house and permeating my hands
• Red and white lights on a fir tree
• Christmas tree for free, an unexpected kindness on the part of our landlord
• Music and smiles and dancing
• Dark lashes framing blue eyes
• Library books for young and (well, I was going to say old, but since I'm not yet thirty, I'll simply say) me
• House full of smells of baking and cooking
• God's promise of a new covenant fulfilled in Jesus Christ
• Writing and philosophising and discussions with husband
• Sweet husband-and-wife moments by the Christmas tree (even if they are interrupted by a little bundle wanting to eat and play--"Hi guys! Miss me?")
• Mischievous smiles from small faces
• Fingerless mitts from sister to keep my hands warm while typing
• Feeling a real family during this holiday season, watching Joy as she starts to get excited about Christmas for the first time.

I know I had more, but--there they were, gone. I will, I will, I will get better about writing them down throughout the week. I promise!

Hopefully tomorrow I'll have a chance to post pictures of our newly-decorated house. It looks lovely, let me assure you.

In Which Elouise Feels Better, and Talks Writing

You know the nice thing about allowing yourself to take the day off? You feel better, and you still manage to get most of the things on your list done. Or at least I do.

I chilled all morning, playing with Joy, cuddling with Gracie, reading, and writing. I felt enough better by the time Joy went down for her nap this afternoon that I was able to a)take a shower, b)wash dishes, c)start a batch of bread and set it rising. By the time I finished with all that, it was 3:00 and time for my tea break (I try to allow myself one of those every day--it doesn't always happen, but it's so good for me when it does). I decided to check out Amazon while I was taking my break, and lo, they have Stephen Lawhead's final book in the King Raven trilogy in paperback. At last, at long last! This gives me a great Christmas present idea to give to people, and if nobody gives it to me, I'll wait until whomever borrowed it from the library returns it, and read it then.

&&&&&&&&&

Every time I read Laurie R King these days, I think again of how badly I wish I could write mysteries. Her Russell series has inspired me with the idea for a similar type around Lord Peter Wimsey--except focused on his second son, Roger, instead of a woman-who-becomes-wife. (Since Peter already has Harriet and all.) I have it all beautifully plotted in my head--all about Roger's personality and character, the love he bears for Bredon, yet how inferior he constantly feels in comparison to this charming, dashing first-born brother, how intensely he admires his father yet feels he could never be worthy of him, the close friendship he has for his mother ...

I even have thought of how the first book would go: it would start with Bredon and Roger at Oxford, where Bredon takes the blame for something he didn't do (noblesse oblige, a gentleman never betrays his friends, etc.). Roger, with his intense, passionate loyalty, can't bear the thought of his brother's reputation being muddied for something not his fault, so ropes in his father to help prove Bredon's innocence. Roger and Peter work together and triumphantly clear Bredon's name. THEN, a few years down the road, the son or daughter or some relative of someone Peter helped put behind bars comes to him saying that he (or she) has come across some old letters of his (or her) father, proving his innocence. Peter doesn't think he is unbiased enough to take on a case which might end up proving he made a terrible mistake, so he hands it off to Roger. Roger doesn't think he can take something on which might damage his father's reputation, but Peter insists that truth is more important than anyone's reputation. So Roger, hampered all the while by his sense of inferiority (he even tries to pass it off to Bredon, but Bredon looks  at the whole thing as a big lark and doesn't take it anywhere near seriously enough), takes up the task of discovering the truth behind a long-buried mystery.

So far, so good. Here's the problem: I can't for the life of me figure out either of the mysteries, either the Oxford one or the main one. I am no good at burying clues and leading the reader along. With all the mysteries I read, you think I could write one, but my talents most obviously do NOT lie in that direction.

So, any writers/Lord Peter fans out there who want to take up this challenge? I'll even let you use my plot, so long as you mention me in the acknowledgments once you're published. Pretty please? The world needs more Wimsey stories--and I'm not talking the ones by Paton-Walsh, either!

Elouise Scrooge

This is a very "Bah humbug" sort of day. The Christmas present I ordered for Carl's grandmother got lost somewhere between the Watertown post office and my parents' house, where it was supposed to be shipped while we were still there for Thanksgiving. The Shutterfly website has a marvelous pass the buck system, where they simply tell you to contact the post office. The Watertown post office has at least three locations where the package could be, so I have no idea which one to contact, and the USPS website is so confusing I cannot hope to find the necessary information on it.

I even turned off the Christmas music this morning because it was grating on me.

I think the real problem is continued lack of sleep due to Gracie. I'm in a difficult position: letting her cry herself back to sleep at night when she wakes up isn't an option (for two reasons: one, if she's hungry I want to feed her; two, she actually will not cry herself to sleep, but will give out her piercing Ringwraith shrieks until someone gets her); but this business of waking up every few hours every single night is slowly sucking all the life out of me. I'm cranky and irritable, and I hardly dare post anything except pictures these days because I am decidedly less than a "child of grace." More like a child of grumpiness. I even had a thought-provoking post on the historical background of Christmas and what that means for the way in which it is celebrated today all planned out--Carl read the first draft and said it was way too harsh. So I revised, and revised, and by the time we finally hashed out something that was both gracious and got across my meaning, I was exhausted and frustrated and didn't even want to post it anymore.

(Which means you all get to remain in the dark as to my true feelings about Christmas. Ho ho ho.)

I'm tired. I'm ticked off at both Shutterfly and the USPS. I'm frustrated at my girls. I don't want to think about housework, and forget making any special treats to go along with decorating tomorrow.

I think I'll give myself a day off today. If the dishes don't get washed, if we have to eat frozen pizza for supper, if I don't call the Post Office until Monday--

The world won't come crashing down around my ears. If, however, I don't get some rest, I will come crashing down around my family's ears.

So, thank you all for allowing me a place to rant, to not be gracious for a brief time, and to get frustrations out of my system so I can see them in their proper perspective. Now, I'm going to go get some coffee with my special caramel macchiato creamer, eat some breakfast since the girls have both been fed, and finish reading "The Language of Bees."

And because God is gracious and good even when I don't reflect that, today will get better. I might even have enough energy at some point to read more in Hosea. Scripture study trump dishwashing any day, in my book!

Six Months With Grace

I just laid Gracie down for her second nap of the day. She was snuggled in my arms with her head on my shoulder; it was so sweet. Like her big sister, Gracie's not much of a snuggler, except when she's tired (or, I'm guessing, when she's sick. I couldn't tell you that definitely, though, since she's only been sick once since she was born, and that was this summer when it was way too hot for snuggling), so when she does nuzzle in, it's the most precious moment in the world. I hated to put her down, but I know from experience she won't really fall asleep unless she's in bed. Or her grandpa's arms.

Grace turned six months last week, while we were at Mom and Dad's. Coincidentally, that's also the first day she pushed herself up on her hands and knees and tried to crawl. She hasn't mastered it yet, but she (and we) gets the biggest kick out of her attempts. To see her face split into that precious grin as she rocks back and forth, and then loses her balance as she tries to suck her thumb while her elbows remain on the floor ... too much fun.

She just started eating rice cereal last week, and she seems to be taking to it pretty well. Even though we jumped almost immediately into two feedings a day (we had to do the same thing with Joy, as I recall), it's still not improving her sleep at night. She consistently wakes up two to three times a night and HAS to eat before she'll settle back down. It's exhausting, but I keep reminding myself that this is my last baby, and eventually she'll sleep; I just have to hold out for a few more months.

She started cutting teeth around four months, and we've still yet to see any sign of them. Looks like I got two difficult teethers. She gums away on anything she can get in her mouth, and one of her best tricks is to wrap her little hand around one of hours and hold it for a moment, so we think she's just being sweet, and then quick as a flash drag it into her mouth so she can gnaw on our fingers. Tricksy kid!

Our Gracie's a smiler, a little sunny-child, a joy-spreader. She's never been much of a laugher up until the last couple days, when I've been able to get her chuckling like mad by making faces at her while feeding her cereal. She's also not too interested in talking; she'll coo a bit, but no real attempts at making real sounds yet. Mostly she's just content to be--and we're content to let her develop at her own pace.

Her eyes are bigger and bluer than any I've ever seen (and I thought Joy's were the biggest and bluest, until Grace came along!), her smile is the most delightful sight you can imagine, she has just the right amount of baby chub (but not too much) ... all in all, she is a joy and delight to us, a true gift from God.

We are so blessed.