What Are You Doing?

Today was a sad morning for my oldest. She was really upset at us as we began removing all of the "Christmas" paraphernalia from the house. I was sad, too. I love the decorations. I love decorations for any holiday/celebration, but we also have to be practical and get things in order as my sister is arriving tomorrow. With terror in her eyes as we dismantled the tree, Emily cried, "What you doing?" She was so distraught. Eric, lovingly, placed the blame on me.
Emily is just like me. I love to have the decorations. Any holiday needs to be celebrated: Christmas, Halloween, Fourth of July, whatever. If there are decorations, I want to have them up. We are slowly progressing to gaining our decorations and celebrating more fully after our spartan years of nothingness as missionaries.
I have fond memories of the decorations my mother had. From the big Pumpkin Man and Witch face that decorated for Halloween to the angel tree topper and Nativity set on the TV, those images are forever embedded in my mind. I want my children to grow up with the same satisfaction in celebration decoration. So, what am I doing? I'm ensuring that the decorations make it another year and we keep the joy and happiness unfolding.

Little Scotty, You Are So Cute

We have our annual Relief Society party tonight, which means we also have our annual Christmas decoration exchange. I didn't have anything and luckily my friend Kelli just shared this idea on her sewing blog. It was simple to make and turned out pretty cute. I left the edges rough because it's a Scotty Dog!! Isn't he adorable?

Project Cuteness

I purchased the girls these really cute sweaters last weekend and envisioned them wearing them with cute neutral skirts. I can never find what I'm looking for when it comes to dresses, and skirts of a good length for little girls are practically impossible to find. So, I got out my creativity and created these:

I'm pretty proud of them, but even more so because Emily couldn't get enough of them. I fixed Gianna's first but Emily just couldn't wait to have her own flower on her skirt. Now I can't wait until Sunday to dress them up and take pictures of them in the completed outfits!!

You Cheat ME!

Somehow, growing up, I got tagged with a sometimes nickname of "Mahana". For those of you unaware of "Mormon pop culture," there is an old film that basically spells out that when you treat people well, they blossom and become their potential. Mahana was a girl who was viewed as not only ugly, but worthless. Her father and her community treated her poorly. However, along comes Mr. Fantastic that everyone adores, except his name is Johnny Lingo, not Mr. Fantastic. Anyway, he loves Mahana and pays a great price for her in order to marry her. After the wedding, he whisks her away on a long honeymoon only to return with a very beautiful and charming wife. Mahana blossomed under his love.
I am Mahana in so many ways. I think I brushed my hair a lot more than Mahana did in her younger days, but I often felt less than plain. I struggled throughout my youth and young adulthood to feel beautiful. When I met Eric, or rather, when we started dating, I found myself blossoming. I started carrying a purse (which, ironically, takes a backseat to the diaper bag these days). I started caring about his preferences and wanting to please him.
Today, he made me feel even more beautiful. It's simple, really. I needed to take something to him at work. No big deal, right? However, he took the opportunity to introduce me to all of his new co-workers and kind of showed us off. I don't feel like a trophy wife, but I do feel beautiful like a trophy wife when Eric does this. I felt like I have the two most adorable blond haired, blue eyed girls on the planet and that I, too, am beautiful.
I love my husband so much. He was truly sent for me and I appreciate all of his love and affection. I just hope I can be as good to him as he is to me.

A Day, Different

Any of you who know me well know that I just can't cope with cold weather. At ALL. I shiver and shake and end up with sore muscles and a back ache because of it. I just can't keep warm. AND, once I have gotten chilled, it takes FOREVER to get warm again.
We spent a few days of cold and it required that I finally give in and turn on the heat (if the house temperature drops below 60 degrees, it's basically my limit).
I was so pleasantly surprised with warm weather this morning. When I took Hannah out this morning around 8 am, it felt like a summer day. Warm. Moist (aka humid). Wonderful. I immediately unclosed every window in my house.
Ah, the gloriousness of warm weather, especially a week into December. It's like an early Christmas present for me from God. I just want to say that I really appreciate it, even if you have to turn it cold again tomorrow. We played outside and enjoyed a bike ride. Thanks!

Santa Spoiler Alert

I have a problem. I want truth spoken in my home. Therefore, I don't want to encourage my children's belief in a fairytale. I just don't want to have to tell them one day, "I've been lying to you for x-number of years. There really isn't a Santa Clause. Daddy and I give you gifts and pretend they are from someone else." I'm not knocking anyone else wanting to do this. I just have this personal feeling about it.
Mind you, I was raised in a home that had Santa and we left food out for Santa and all. I don't know how old I was when we were bad children and discovered the "Santa" gifts in my parents' closet (you are right, we shouldn't have been snooping). I was fairly young. Anyway, Christmas kind of lost it's joy after that. I didn't rediscover the joy of Christmas until I was an adult and serving a mission for my church. I guess this lends to not wanting to live a lie about the holiday characters to ruin it for my own kids.
So, in a effort to do this, we have tried to reconstruct Christmas. It's a celebration of Christ's spirit, really. Yet, Christianity has deemed it a celebration of Christ's birth. I love all of Christmas, really. I love it more and more as I re-experience it through a child's eyes (Emily is a Christmas fanatic...her favorite song is Jingle Bells and her favorite movie is Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer). I want the magic of Christmas, but not the lies.
Really, Christmas should be celebrated in April. You know, actually for Christ's birth? If we did THAT, there would be no "confusion of the season" remarks.
I want to celebrate Christ's birth, but I want to do it correctly. I also want to celebrate family togetherness, the spirit of giving, and another good hearty meal. I want, basically, to have my cake and eat it too...just at different times so I can enjoy both admiring the work that goes into it and the joy of the consumption, too.

Princess Rosa

Emily has been infatuated with making up not only new names for herself, but new languages, too. Last night, after tucking her in for the night, she declared, "I'm Spanish, Mommy." I nodded my head and tried slipping out before the storyteller in her started. Not getting the response she was looking for, she further explained, "I'm Spanish in my mouth!" This got a chuckle out of me. I clarified with her that she meant that she spoke Spanish. When I understood this, she started spouting off what she deemed to be Spanish words. I must admit, when I hear a native Spanish speaker, it rolls together and I can't follow at all. It's beautiful and I'm sure if I took the chance to learn it, I'd appreciate it. Instead, I'll just enjoy the creation of my daughter. Who knows, maybe it's a hint that she should start learning it. I mean, Dora is one of her "best friends" and we have several bilingual toys for her.
I had more of this Spanish Rosa (a few weeks ago, she informed a nursery leader that this was her name...including the rolling "r") this morning as she dressed herself. She looked very festive in her tutu, wings, and mix-n-match dress-up paraphernalia. When she completed her ensemble, including make-up, she announced that she was a Spanish fairy princess. She went to the library in her getup and was complemented. Upon hearing the words, "She is so cute," she whispered to me, "Am I cute, Mommy?"