Counting Christmas memories

The holiday hustle and bustle has subsided; Christmas is complete. One of my favorite parts of Christmas day is returning home in the afternoon after visiting nearby family, snuggling up on the couch with my husband, and silently recalling the days leading up to and including Christmas. The amusing moments, the fun moments, the surprising moments. The moments that quietly settle into my mind and become my own Christmas memories to keep, like these:

Jack waking up on Christmas morning to find Santa's gifts, unwrapped, in front of the fireplace. His response to his new loot? "Oh my CRAP!"

Grandma Sophie's visit (my mom) with her own Buzz Lightyear in tow. She "buzzed" around the living room with Jack for HOURS. She has the endurance of, well, a Grandma.

The three J's--a visit from my brother Jason, his wife Jen, and their daughter, Janessa. Jason brought his Karaoke Revolution X-Box game. I sang "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder and earned a perfect score. Jason said I was so good I gave him the shivers. (Only for a second, though.) That means I am the best mediocre singer he's ever heard. I'm feeling right proud about that.

Making Christmas cookies for our neighbors. The M & M bars have already had an encore baking at our house. Jack was essential to the baking process this year. I measured, he poured and taste-tested. Then taste-tested some more.

The solitary handmade gift this year. This is the ONE photo I took on Christmas morning--the unveiling of Jack's table tent. Velcro peepholes and painted suns, moons, and stars still to come . . .

Christmas morning--visiting with Brett's side of the family at his brother's house. His brother and wife made an incredible vegetarian breakfast for all of us. I ate for 45 minutes straight. My over-the-top eating was immediately followed by an impromptu nap on the couch. Heaven.

Replaying the days to solidify the memories. After gifts are wrapped and unwrapped, after meals are prepared and devoured, after guests are invited and enjoyed--after it's all said and done, aren't the memories we're left with what matters most to us?

Here's wishing your holiday memories were good and plenty. Wishing you many more where that came from in 2008.

ALERT: Jackspeak, birthday edition

Me: "Jack, I want to tell you something."

Jack: "What?"

"Today is a special day. Do you know what today is for celebrating?"

"Wrapping presents?"

"No."

"Giving presents?"

"Nope. It's someone's birthday."

"Mine?"

"No."

"Yours?"

"Yes."

"Mommy, I am so excited it's your birthday!"

"Thank you."

ALERT: Jackdo

I think Jack was trying to spin a Spidey web (with a skein of my favorite chenille-y yarn) in an effort to catch Santa when he lands at the bottom of our fireplace:

As usual, things always end up with the strip-down to undies.

After dressing the living room with webs, Jack gleefully wrapped himself up in the yarn and yelled "Spidey's got me in his web!" again and again. Not with fear, mind you. With utter delight.

I don't remember creating these kinds of strange scenarios for myself as a little girl. Is this a common little-boy thing? I'm still learning about these mystifying creatures. I think I've got a ways to go before I get it.

An early Christmas gift

Whoa. Look who we saw yesterday:

A nose, a mouth, a face, a FOOT (I even count five toes . . . you do too, right?). That's Tie-Dye--our little one on the way. Yesterday we had a doctor's visit for what they call a "targeted ultrasound." They check everything from fingers and toes to the four chambers of the heart. For most of the visit we watched Tie-Dye on the screen through two-dimensional images. But then the technician changed to the four-dimensional version of the exam. And there he was.

Well. Be still all four chambers of my heart.

Jack came with us and kept the technician entertained by telling her a story about how his shoes were on fire. ("And Mommy, you took my shoes off," he said. Thank goodness.) The technician complimented him on his nicely articulated and highly animated storytelling skills. She thought he was four years old. Even with a shoes-on-fire kind of story, it makes a mama proud.

Now, Tie-Dye, I must tell you--yesterday on the drive home from the doctor, Daddy and I decided that the name we've been kicking around for you fits you just right. But we'll keep your brother's nickname for you in play until you decide you're ready to meet us. Actually, I'm guessing we'll keep the nickname in play long after that, too.

I wish I was one of those mamas who glow and beam and are content and carefree when pregnant. We've been through three miscarriages. I'm not that kind of mom. But the technician said all is well. The doctor says all is well. My body says all is well. I need to believe all is well.

T.D., you are a beauty. Today, all is well.

Quiltless

I'm not working on a quilt right now. I feel all itchy about it. I have ideas, sketches, fabrics, and supplies. But between the holidays, organizing a new playroom, taking care of the day-to-day, and growing a baby, I can't seem to get going. Feels kinda empty, really.

To say I have nothing I could be working on isn't quite true, though. There are plenty of UFO's sitting in my closet, patiently holding their hands up, trying to catch my attention. Here are a few on deck:

I love these wacky, wonky blocks. They are from a block exchange, which I think took place at least five years ago. Sigh.

Not a cut made, not a stitch sewn on this "quilt." Just thrifted sheets, fuzzy fabric, and an idea.

Started this design last year--a kind of puzzle block using solid bright colors.

Another quilt in the making using solid brights. I really think this one has potential. Getting the fabric to mimic what I see in my head--that's the dilemma.

I can feel it; these girls are growing a bit impatient. I think their arms are tired. They're starting to make annoying noises as they raise their hands. You know, like Horshack in Mr. Kotter's classroom. Aww. They're like my little sweathogs! Somehow, I find that endearing.

Well girls, let's focus on wishing each other a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year first. Perhaps you can graduate and get your "bona-fide quilt" diploma in 2008.

(Oops, I just mistyped the year above and came up with "2080." That may be more appropriate.)

Little hands

Every morning, Jack wakes up and comes downstairs to greet me with gifts--little bits of fuzz from his bedtime blanket. He's collected them since he was a baby.

We love to paint, with one rule--when we start painting our bodies, painting time is over.

After months of patient instruction about how markers dry out if their lids don't stay on, Jack discovers you can turn marker lids into claws. Time to divide markers into "drawing markers" and "claw markers," I guess...

(Please note that my son has CLOTHES on in the last photo. Who knew all I had to do was turn the heater off?)

Santa hats

Last week I searched and searched online for a Santa-hat pattern to make with fabric. Couldn't even find ONE. I found loads of patterns for knitted hats but with three weeks until Christmas and three hats to make, knitting wasn't an option. I've been a beginning knitter since I learned how about six years ago. I'm not sure I'll ever graduate to the next level.

Through a bit of trial and error, I came up with a simple design of my own that seemed to work. A doubled band of white; two triangles of red; and two white circles, sewn, turned inside out, and stuffed. Not bad for knowing next to nothing about sewing stuff to wear!

The first hat I made was for Jack. OOPS. It turned out waaay too small. So guess what? His adorable, squeezable, lovable cousin Willa got a Santa hat, too:

That's Willa's mom--my sister--snuggling up with the little ones.

My sister and her husband came over to our house with Willa so we could take turns snapping holiday photos. Our time in front of the camera was spent saying, "Hands down please, hands down!" to Jack. He just wanted to whack at that little snowball on the tip of his hat:

Whack away, Jack--the official holiday photo has been chosen.

To me, Jack looks gorgeous. And OLD. Brett looks like his mellow self, with annual winter beard in full bloom. Me? I look like I'm trying to hide the double chin that has emerged from eating too much "baby food."

Ah, well. The last two years we had pictures taken at the mall. So I'm proud of this picture--no paper backdrop featuring flat trees and fake snow. (Just a fake tree, inherited from Brett's parents.) This is us, right now. At home, excited for all the fun the season is bringing our way. (No, really, Brett IS excited.) I think it'll make for a nice memory.

ALERT: Jackdo

It's fascinating, watching a child's personality emerge. Some traits are unmistakably their own. But more often it seems that you can attribute a child's qualities and quirks to one parent or the other.

For instance, Jack carries my from-birth ability to be a bossy know-it-all. (Or is that just me acting like a three-year old? Hmm.)

From his dad, Jack has acquired the ability to FOCUS. I can finish a little hand stitching, help Jack complete an ABC puzzle on the floor, make scrambled eggs, start a load of laundry, make a phone call, read a story, and organize a closet shelf in the span of an hour. I flit and flutter from one thing to the next. Brett, on the other hand, concentrates on one thing at a time. Stays with it until it's done. Or until the thrill is gone.

I can almost hear my husband's thought process as I witness him FOCUS:

"Snowboarding. I like snowboarding. Gear, gear, gear. Snowboard, snowboard, snowboard. Fun, fun, fun. Now I'm done."

Or

"Computer game. I like this computer game. Learn, learn, learn. Play, play, play. Fun, fun, fun. Now I'm done."

And so goes Jack's play. He created one beautiful "eagle" out of these blocks and was thrilled with his original creation. Then the FOCUS kicked in:

"Eagles. I like building eagles. Blocks, blocks, blocks. Build, build, build. Fun, fun, fun."

And now he's done.

Halfway

I'm more than halfway through my pregnancy now. I'm feeling like it's time to mark the milestone with a photo, so I don't forget what was happening at this stage (at least with my body):

Seems fitting to capture the time of year, too, with the tree...

Brett took this impromtu picture of my belly (below) when I was pregnant with Jack. I remember it was after having dinner with his parents one summer night. I must have been about seven months along here:

Round, round, round.

I love that picture. A few months after it was taken I decided to frame it. I had it sitting on my fireplace mantel, trying to find a spot for it in the house, when the pizza-delivery person showed up. It was a woman, a mom. She saw the picture and just beamed. "I remember those days," she said. "I wish I had taken a picture of myself like that when I was pregnant." A memory of our short conversation reminded me to take the opportunity to do it again.

Round, round, round. There's something freeing about being so round. And being OKAY with being so round. And having people say "You look so cute!" BECAUSE you are so round. (And getting rounder by the minute.) In the morning I'm carrying a balloon; by evening I'm carrying a bowling ball. I like my mornings.

Jack loves the idea of having a brother on the way. For the first three months of the pregnancy he asked, "Is the baby coming today?" every day. Now his latest baby-on-the-way commentary runs more like this:

"I'm sooo happy Tie-Dye is coming. He can play Star Wars guys with me, and he can do light sabers with me, and he can do drawings and paintings with me!"

Yes, Jack has given the baby a name. Tie-Dye. Over these past few months he has also wanted to name the baby Toothbrush and Flash. I'm glad Tie-Dye stuck.

So, halfway. Halfway to an end. Halfway to a beginning. I am so, so looking forward to both!

ALERT: Jackspeak (rated PG-13)

Jack: "Mommy?"

Me: "Yeah?"

"Your boobies look fabulous!"

"They do? Well, thanks. Now tell me, where the heck did you learn to say that?"

"I learned it at preschool."

Turns out, Jack learned the word "fabulous" at preschool. Not the word "boobies." I'm thinking he learned that word from his dad.

Officially unemployed (or am I?)

I need to change two things on my About page. One--I no longer consider getting pregnant a hobby of mine. See? Two--as of September, I am officially jobless. Now I'm a 100% real-deal stay-at-home mama. I've worked for money since the age of 15, so it's a strange feeling, not having a paying job. Now I work an average of 16 hours a day, seven days a week for no money. How did THAT happen? It's taking some getting used to.

Now I'm thinking back on the jobs I've held over the years. Let's see, I've been a:

--Ice-cream, hot-dog, and French-fry slinger at Lagoon
--Inbound telemarketer (you called me, I didn't call you!)
--Video-store cashier (once caught a guy stuffing a copy of Animal House into his pants)
--Helper at a bakery at Utah State (one of my favorite jobs--I can crack two-dozen eggs in record time)
--Salesperson at a now-defunct clothing store called Brooks, which was located at the now defunct ZCMI Center in downtown Salt Lake City
--Custodian at a struggling live theatre company, downtown SLC (complete with bouncing paychecks!)
--Employee at the University of Utah Bookstore (even won employee of the month once)
--Administrative assistant at a life-insurance company
--Copy editor at a doomed-from-the-start publishing company

Which brings me to the job I loved, the job I recently said goodbye to. I was (still want to say "I am!") the sole copywriter at Martingale & Company for 10 years. When I told people I worked as a copywriter I was often asked for advice about copyright law. Don't know much about that, really. I just wrote. Copy. For around 500+ books, as I figure. It was wonderfully fun. I was privileged--actually, just darn lucky--to be a part of that creative company for so long.

I've spent a couple months going through some tough adjustments since I gave up my job. I miss hearing from the people at M&C, and I miss the fast pace of the work. I've had to purposefully reprogram my head. I'm not required to produce anything at lightning speed anymore, aside from the occasional cup of apple juice. Deadlines don't wake me up at night. I no longer get phone calls from my never-gonna-have-another-one-as-fantastic-as-her boss that start with a sentence like, "I need this--can you have it done yesterday?" How do I miss that, you ask? I don't know. I just do.

For the past two months, with the help of my two sons (one here and one on the way), I've been slowly slowing down. Slowly. It's starting to feel . . . comfy. Like my favorite pj's. Like my tattered Bull's Eye quilt--the one that has a small but crunchy-loud piece of tape sewn in between the layers. (Oops.)

A pattern from a wonderful book called Quilts from Aunt Amy.

Here's what it is. It's TIME. I have it. Time for reading another story, and then another, with Jack. Time for a snuggle on the couch with my husband (who IS producing at lightning speed at work right now). Time to bake goodies from scratch. Time to wash, dry, AND put away in a 24-hour period. Time to daydream about our little one on the way.

So, I guess I traded in an extraordinary job for an extraordinary job. Again, just darn lucky. But it's a truly heartwarming feeling, a grateful feeling, knowing I'll never have to give this new job up.

Correction.

On Wednesday I declared that winter had officially arrived. I was wrong.

NOW it's official. Winter is here.

From Saturday's storm:

Frozen.

Forgotten.

Flocked!

Full.

Funny (Sunday).

Fantastic.

My apologies for having to make this correction. Welcome, winter!