Play Play Play!

This is always a funny week, the week after Thanksgiving. The societal pull is frenetic, spastic, telling us to hurry up! This sale won't last! Hurry up - the deal is over at midnight! My email inbox is flooded - literally flooded - with zillions of sale notices and the tone of each and every one is - HURRY, or else you might miss out!

You guys. What would happen if we didn't care? Didn't care to MISS OUT.

I can't let myself get overrun by the holiday crazy. So much about the holidays is just wonderful - the meaning of the season, the traditions, the surprise, and especially the wonder. I am finding myself wonder-fied over and over again, because I am introducing my son to the season of Christmas and it is so much delicious fun. He saw a house lit up in icicle lights in our neighborhood the other night, and he was absolutely mesmerized. He just stared. Then clapped. It was THE BEST. He definitely saw lights last year, but it's a whole new year - and he is so much more aware. He opened his first Christmas gift with my sisters over the weekend, and there it was again - the wonder! That distinguished moment of pure, radiant, child-like joy. It was enough to make me like a giddy little girl again. The wonder of the season! That is the good stuff that I want to remember and focus on.

And then I open my email, and literally, all I see are "Cyber week savings!", "Last Day! 50% off!", "30% off starts now!"

I know what you're thinking. Delete your emails, girl.

I totally agree with you.

The thing is, I love a good sale, and I have no problem with a bit of hoopla. I just think it's important to not let the hoards of hoopla rock the internal compass of this season. I want to buy gifts and give gifts, because I am a crazy gifting person. It's one of my favorite things to do. But there is a point where the consumerism suddenly becomes like when you ate one too many cookie. The sugar doesn't taste good, and sort of turns to ash in your mouth. That's how I feel about all the sales and promotions and consumerism - it's just ash. Tomorrow there will be another deal, and another, and another. And suddenly, its not satisfying anymore because DO WE REALLY NEED THIS STUFF. I'm realizing it's my job to remove myself from all of it.

I am reeeeeally close to being totally done Christmas shopping. And it's on me to finish my list, and then be done - and not get sucked into overspending, or lusting after more than I need/want. It's my responsibility. And the one way that I am managing going about that this year?

First, I am going to finish my Christmas list.

And then I am going to play play play!

Get outside and throw around some leaves and remember what it's like. To be a kid. And play. Play hard. Play like it's my job. Man, kids have the best life. They aren't tempted by the notion of a good sale. They are expected to eat well, sleep long and play hard.

That's what I wish for you this Christmas season. Eat well, sleep long, and play hard, friends.

My Grandmother's China.

I wish I could recount to you the lyrical quality of her head-thrown-back, guttural, deep-belly laughter.

The rhythm of her walk.

The sweet scent of her choice perfume mingled with her shampoo.

The expression in her eyes as she told a wild story.

Her favorite dish to cook for the family, her favorite flower in my garden, her favorite song on the radio.

I wish I could tell you I knew her. But I didn't.

My grandmother died before her time was up, in June of 1976. She left a family of 5 children, one of which was my mother, and a loving community, in the wake of her untimely end. I have often wondered how my mom ever got by without her own mother for some of the most formidable times in her life, since my mom was barely 19 year old when she lost the companionship of her mom. How in the world did she get married, have me and my sisters, buy a house, move states, and you know, do all the grown up stuff, without the ability to call home to her mom? I am so often grasping at the threads of advice and perspective from my mother, so often pulling on the wisdom I know she can offer, the encouragement, the challenge, the discipline, the unconditional love - how on earth did my mom make it so far without her own support system? How how how. I honestly don't understand it.

My mom is simply amazing. That's the only reasoning I can discern.

I wish I knew how much my mom was like her mom. And I wish I knew how much I am like she was, too. Do I have her eyes? Her smile? Her humor? Do I walk like her or talk like her or tell stories just like her? Do I have the same penchant for cooking or the same weakness of a sharp tongue? It's lost in a book of should-have-been-published. I should have known her. I really wish I had been given that chance.

This year I was given a great many gifts. The same week that I was given a houseful of free furniture for my new home I was given another gift; one of the most sentimental, legacy-laden and meaningful heirlooms of my life.

I was given my grandmother's set of china.

Thanks to the unforgettable kindness and generosity of my dear Aunt Janet, my mom's youngest sister, I was offered by her my grandmother's incomplete set of porcelain china, with its signature peach and gold tulip pattern. Why? I'll never really know. My kind aunt, who is without any daughters of her own, thought that I would love and appreciate the gift in the midst of her move and downsizing, simply because of my adoration for our family's history. And probably because I cook like a crazy person. I'll never really know why she was moved to offer me the gift that rocked my world, but she did. And I awkwardly accepted, unsure of what exactly to do with such a precious gift. I was given a gorgeous china cabinet in the same week. How about that.

The only explanation I can muster for all of this mystery is that God must love me, a lot, to bestow such a delicately powerful, surprising gift. What am I supposed to do with this 50-year old china? How do I even process how special this gift is? Well, I should protect it. Display it. Put it in my china cabinet, obviously.

I've been thinking a lot about this set of dishes. About the many Christmases when it was used, when my mom remembers monotonously hand-washing each and every dish. I've been thinking about how it was used for fancy family dinners, friend coffee dates, numerous holidays and endless parties. So much celebration, conversation, and connection occurred just above those coffee cups. So many favored, steamy delicacies were served on that platter. So many meals for so many mouths. I think my grandma would be happy to know that we walk by her china everyday, as we settle my son into his high chair and watch him throw food around the dining room. I think she would like to know that we honor her memory and her matriarchal presence in our family.

But you know what I think she would like more?

For us to use it.

So this Thanksgiving, the first Thanksgiving that I have ever hosted, we are pulling that china out of its cabinet and we are going to use it. We are going to celebrate my grandmother. A woman who I've been told, loved to throw her head back and laugh. A woman who loved babies. A woman who was a neat freak, a politeness-enforcer, a perfectly poised hostess. A woman who I have to thank for my wavy hair and possibly, my chipmunk cheeks. And above all else, a woman who I have to thank for my own mother - the one from whom I received the solidest ground, my life's blood, my sensitive heart and definitely my chipmunk cheeks. No questions about any of those.

Thank you, my dear Aunt Janet, for your selfless, treasured gift to my family. This Thanksgiving is dedicated to you, and of course, to my Grandma. xox.

Our Current Reads.

We are loving books in our household right now. Between my Intentional October reading goals and Everett getting chattier and Stevie following suit with my insanely early bedtime schedule, it's all getting very literate up in here. Everett is suddenly VERY into his storybooks and illustrations. When we're reading to him, he often flips back to a previous page, staring at the pictures for a minute longer. I can see him trying to understand. Pointing out the dogs, of course. Then going "Woo-woo-woo", which is his puppy sound. It's the best. For some reason, we have a stockpile of books about dogs, trucks, and New York City. Priorities, folks. I snapped a few photos of him reading with his Aunt Rachel the other day, and they are just too cute not to share :)

Our Favorites Right Now:
Little Blue Truck
This series is darling. Little Blue Truck and Little Blue Truck Leads the Way are a few of our rotating favorites, and I'm not kidding when I say that we read these books 5-10 times a day. When we open the story, Everett goes "Beep beep!" because of the sound the truck makes when he rolls into the big city. It's the best. I think the length of the book, the thickness of the board pages and the illustrations are absolutely perfect, especially for my his age.

BabyLit Don Quixote
Talk about trendy kid lit. Have you checked out these books yet? They are so cool! Everett LOVES Don Quixote: A Spanish Primer, and I will definitely be putting a few more of these on his Christmas List. We've even gifted a few - my favorites for girls are Pride & Prejudice: A Counting Primer, The Secret Garden: A Flowers Primer, Emma: An Emotions Primer & Sense & Sensibility: An Opposites Primer. The colors and descriptions are just beautiful - half the pages I want to frame and put up on my wall. Seriously.

This Is New York
I remember flipping through a copy of This Is New York in Chelsea Market when I was newly pregnant, living in Manhattan. I remember wanting to buy it, because it was such an iconic, vintage kind of thing, but then I didn't, because I felt like my secret would be out. Which is so ridiculous, because there are literally a drillion people living in that city, and I only knew about 10 of them at the time. That just goes to show how pregnancy hormones really do make a person strange. Our dear friends Anthony & Jessica (who I always brag on) gave us this book at our Gender Reveal party, and now I love reading it to Ev.

A Walk in New York
The sweetest book about a dad exploring the city with his son, A Walk in New York warms my heart every time I read it to Everett. The length of the book is a little extensive for him right now, but I think that's a good thing, because he will continue to grow into it. He always pauses on the page that shows the subway system (it's a complex picture, with hundreds of people doing different things like dancing, kissing and eating, on three different platforms!) - he studies the page so intently. Then he finally locates what he was looking for all along - "wwoo-woo-woooo!" Of course. The dog on a leash :)

How Do Dinosaurs Count to Ten?
I had no idea this book was part of a huge series, but it is! How Do Dinosaurs Count to Ten? is so cute and labels the type of dinosaur doing things like counting his toy trucks, counting his paint colors, counting the socks under his bed, hehe. It's the simplest story, but Everett adores it. He loves pointing out the dinosaur's toy trucks and trains. Of course.

Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See?
Who doesn't love these books? Other than the redundancy, the pictures are gorgeous and it's amazing how much babies love them. Panda Bear, Panda Bear, What Do You See? is the perfect solution once you get reeeeeally tired of Brown Bear, Brown Bear and Polar Bear, Polar Bear. Of course, in our family, we are boycotting The Very Hungry Caterpillar for very obvious reasons, but if you like the others, you would probably like that one too.

I'm realizing that we need to invest in some more books before Christmas time! Because we are wearing these reads out. And that's a good thing! What are you reading with your kiddos right now? Any recommendations for me?

P.S. - We read more than children's books! I've been tearing through The Happiness Project and For the Love and I am feeling so motivated and inspired by these women. Stevie's reading Heart, Smarts, Guts, and Luck because he is forever a business school student.

Everett the Strong.

Yesterday my 14-month-old son Everett broke his leg.

Babies should never ever break bones. It's the worst. We are a mess about his pain. But we are grateful it wasn't worse. And we are optimistic about his recovery.

There is a lot to say, a lot of details that I could dole out about the whole experience, but I will stop before I get emotional. Even though he's okay, we are still pretty emotional about it over here.

But the good news is that today he is laughing, eating ice cream and trying to jail break out of his cast.

I will ask one request of you. If you read this blog, then I consider you a friend of my family. And as a friend, I will ask that you say a prayer for my boy. Pray out loud. We are declaring positive affirmations about Everett's health, his perfect recovery, and his strong body that is fearfully and wonderfully made in Christ's image. My son is absolutely amazing. I know that everyone thinks their kid is the most amazing, but I DO think he is the most amazing. He's so resilient, fierce with conviction, quick to laugh and even quicker to hug my neck and not let go for a while. He's a hugger. And he has inherited his name - he is so so strong. So if you think of my little family today, I ask that you speak that out loud, agreeing with our words and echoing our love for him into the Heavens.

Everett the strong. Everett the healthy. Everett the healed.

Thanks for the love and support, friends. xox

P.S. - If you're following along the Intentional October journey, let's check in on the progress here on the blog Monday. I'm going to spend the weekend playing with trucks and feeding my son half almond milk, half whole milk (his beverage of choice) and gold fish. His favorites :)

On the Living Room Floor.

I'll admit. I haven't been having tons of fun lately.

Moving just isn't. It isn't! Yes, I am thrilled to be in my new home and yes, I am thrilled to start piecing together the decor and yes, of course I am excited about the prospects of my vegetable garden. May it be fruitful and multiply! (If my vegetables are fruitful, well then, we're on to something). But am I having fun? Am I doing fun things? Not really. Not yet.

I'm just unpacking.

It's hard, lame work. It takes forever. But it must be done. In order to find the socks and the light bulbs and the bobby pins and those little collar things Stevie puts in the corners of his dress shirts. It must be done.

So I've been an unpacking fool and I am equal parts annoyed and bored with the task because its taking FOREVERRRR. I just want to be done.

But on Sunday we took a break from all the painting and furniture moving and box unpacking and just let loose a bit. We actually enjoyed each other, as a family. The three of us. We went to church. Ate lunch. Played on our new rug in our new living room. Went plant shopping. Bought gardening tools. It almost felt normal. But what was even better is that it felt FUN. And it had honestly been a few weeks since I felt like, wow, that was really, truly fun.

I just wanted to share a few of these photos because they make me feel happy and content. And lately I haven't been either of those things. I just want to keep it real. Sometimes life isn't overly hard or too easy, but it's unfun. However, even in seasons of strangeness and moving and feeling unsettled and as if you've misplacing your purpose (perhaps it's in that box over there), there is still a chance. An opportunity to find the joy in something really small. Like watching your baby son stare out the glass door in the first home you've ever bought. Like watching your big tall husband play with the itty bitty fluffy stuffed animal on the living room floor. Like feeling the arms of my boy wrap all the way around my neck while I smother him in kisses. These things are so precious. These are my sweet moments of true fun, real joy.

I don't have a lot of boxes unpacked. I don't have a fancy job. I don't have a zillion dollars and I don't have the answers to most questions. But I have these two souls, and this moment right now, and this cozy living room floor. And that is enough fun, joy and laughter to give breath to my lifetime.