My family is getting a dog for Christmas.
She's a 6-year-old German Shepherd. Gorgeous, low-energy, gentle.
It's mainly my present to Superman. He wants a dog badly, so I decided my gift to him would be finding a dog that works for our family. Also, he never ever ever ever wants to me to spend money, so we've been searching KSL's free pets and finally found the perfect one.
The Hulk is upstairs pretending to be the Grinch right now. Decorated a small Christmas tree, made a sleigh, and convinced me to be a reindeer.
Miss Marvel took her first steps this week. She's 9.5 months. She's got 2 teeth on bottom and 2 more coming up top.
I am ready for her to be done teething. She's been at least up twice a night for the last two weeks. It's starting to take its toll on the both of us.
Spiderman asked me to come to his Christmas party at school today. Love that he wants me there.
I need to prepare my lesson for Sunday. Since we skipped Isaiah due to several substitutes, I'm thinking about just reading the Messianic verses from Isaiah and listening to songs from Handel's Messiah. Or is that too lazy?
I have all my Christmas shopping done, but none of the wrapping.
Do you buy any (or all) of your own Christmas presents? Do you wrap them and put them under the tree?
I just went upstairs to find ALL the ornaments off the lower half of the tree and the stockings gone. The Grinch has struck again!!!
Sometimes I feel like I'm so busy now that life is just happening to me, instead of me participating. Like I'm simply being acted upon, instead of acting. (Thank you, Elder Bednar.) I used to be more selfish with my time. I'm doing a lot more to actively raise my children and serve others, but I miss doing something simply because I want to do it. I need to make time for something for ME.
Consequently, I attended my first Zumba class this week.
I can't WAIT to go back.
I think I also need to make more time for blogging -- recording my own thoughts. Maybe I should actually write in my journal................
For Superman's work party tonight we're going to Goodwood then bowling. I'm actually pretty excited about bowling. I'm such a nerd.
I'm looking forward to the kids being out of school next week. Not only will it be a welcome break from our schedules, but I hope to do fun things with them. Not quite sure what, yet........any ideas?
The end.
12.17.2010
12.13.2010
Do you believe in magic?
When I was in first grade, I discovered Chris Van Allsberg. I loved his stories and illustrations. Half way through the school year I had read all his children's books and The Polar Express was my absolute favorite.
At 7 I still completely believed in Santa. December was a magical time of year in my home. We often did a 12 Days of Christmas for a family in need. We went caroling and drank egg nog. We watched White Christmas and the Disney sing-a-long for Christmas. We got a real tree every year. One year, we saw Santa at the gas station on the way home from the tree farm. (Large man, all in read, with a real white beard. He drove a red minivan and the plate read MRCLAUS.) We even had visits from the elves. If we had been good, the elves would leave candy on our pillows every few days.
It was magical.
After reading The Polar Express that year, I decided that I was going to test Santa. Rumors had started in my class that the jolly old elf was not what I had been taught to believe. So I decided that I would test my theory and ask Santa for a sleigh bell. I told no one of my plans. On Christmas Eve I wrote my letter and left it out, not really knowing what to expect in the morning.
After we had opened all the presents Christmas morning, I was disappointed to see that there was no special box for me. More than disappointed -- devastated. I guess my friends had been right. Then my dad said, "Wait. What's this on the tree?"
I looked, and there was some kind of new ornament. It was a small tin box with Norman Rockwell-type paintings on each side. Could this be it? I took it off the tree and opened it.
Inside was my sleigh bell.
It was still attached to the worn leather, like it had been snipped right off Dancer's reigns. There was a sprig of pine inside as well.
On the bottom, a message had been carved into the tin, maybe with a pocketknife.
"To Alyssa,
Merry Christmas!
Love, Mr. C"
I was AMAZED.
Santa was TOTALLY real.
Throughout the following years, my friends had tried to tell me the truth, but I wouldn't let them dissuade me. They told me it was my parents, but I couldn't believe that mom and dad would be able to find a sleigh bell at 9 pm on Christmas Eve. It MUST have been Santa. (It should be noted that I'm exceptionally trusting and naive by nature.)
I believed in Santa till I was 12 years old, when my younger brother showed me mom's stash of candy -- the same candy the elves brought us. I wasn't mad. Honestly, I knew the story couldn't be true, but I just couldn't figure out how my parents had got me that sleigh bell.
I asked my mom just the other day how she managed to pull it off.
It turns out that after reading The Polar Express that year, they decided to surprise us with sleigh bells on Christmas morning anyway. The fact that I secretly asked Santa for one was just icing on the cake and added to the magic.
So, yes. I believe in the magic of Christmas.
At 7 I still completely believed in Santa. December was a magical time of year in my home. We often did a 12 Days of Christmas for a family in need. We went caroling and drank egg nog. We watched White Christmas and the Disney sing-a-long for Christmas. We got a real tree every year. One year, we saw Santa at the gas station on the way home from the tree farm. (Large man, all in read, with a real white beard. He drove a red minivan and the plate read MRCLAUS.) We even had visits from the elves. If we had been good, the elves would leave candy on our pillows every few days.
It was magical.
After reading The Polar Express that year, I decided that I was going to test Santa. Rumors had started in my class that the jolly old elf was not what I had been taught to believe. So I decided that I would test my theory and ask Santa for a sleigh bell. I told no one of my plans. On Christmas Eve I wrote my letter and left it out, not really knowing what to expect in the morning.
After we had opened all the presents Christmas morning, I was disappointed to see that there was no special box for me. More than disappointed -- devastated. I guess my friends had been right. Then my dad said, "Wait. What's this on the tree?"
I looked, and there was some kind of new ornament. It was a small tin box with Norman Rockwell-type paintings on each side. Could this be it? I took it off the tree and opened it.
Inside was my sleigh bell.
It was still attached to the worn leather, like it had been snipped right off Dancer's reigns. There was a sprig of pine inside as well.
On the bottom, a message had been carved into the tin, maybe with a pocketknife.
"To Alyssa,
Merry Christmas!
Love, Mr. C"
I was AMAZED.
Santa was TOTALLY real.
~~~~~~~~
Throughout the following years, my friends had tried to tell me the truth, but I wouldn't let them dissuade me. They told me it was my parents, but I couldn't believe that mom and dad would be able to find a sleigh bell at 9 pm on Christmas Eve. It MUST have been Santa. (It should be noted that I'm exceptionally trusting and naive by nature.)
I believed in Santa till I was 12 years old, when my younger brother showed me mom's stash of candy -- the same candy the elves brought us. I wasn't mad. Honestly, I knew the story couldn't be true, but I just couldn't figure out how my parents had got me that sleigh bell.
I asked my mom just the other day how she managed to pull it off.
It turns out that after reading The Polar Express that year, they decided to surprise us with sleigh bells on Christmas morning anyway. The fact that I secretly asked Santa for one was just icing on the cake and added to the magic.
So, yes. I believe in the magic of Christmas.
12.11.2010
Family pictures
A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine and photographer took our family pictures. Nemiha's actually the one who shot our wedding. It was fun to see her again and finally get family pictures with our new addition.
Getting all 3 kids to smile at once is not an easy task.
Miss Marvel aka Cinderella
Blowing raspberries. Note the drool.
The Hulk. This kid can't take a bad picture.
My sweet, six-year-old Spiderman.
Love this girl.
And these silly boys.
Can't you just see the mischief in his eyes?
And this one cracks me up. He was all about hamming it up for the camera.
How great is this picture? I think I'm going to print off a large version for my MIL for Christmas. (Hi, Robin!)
This is Miss Marvel's expression most of the time.
Nice to get a good shot of the two of us.
Getting all 3 kids to smile at once is not an easy task.
Miss Marvel aka Cinderella
Blowing raspberries. Note the drool.
The Hulk. This kid can't take a bad picture.
My sweet, six-year-old Spiderman.
Love this girl.
And these silly boys.
Can't you just see the mischief in his eyes?
And this one cracks me up. He was all about hamming it up for the camera.
How great is this picture? I think I'm going to print off a large version for my MIL for Christmas. (Hi, Robin!)
This is Miss Marvel's expression most of the time.
Nice to get a good shot of the two of us.
Me and my kids.
Thanks again, Nemiha!!
p.s. are these pixelated for you? I don't know if it's because of my lame computer or low-res images.
Thanks again, Nemiha!!
p.s. are these pixelated for you? I don't know if it's because of my lame computer or low-res images.
12.05.2010
Spare change
Today in Relief Society we talked about gift giving. Our teacher mentioned that true gift giving requires a sacrifice from the giver. It reminded me of something that happened last week that I felt the need to record.
I took a cat nap on the floor a few days ago. I laid on my stomach with my head turned to the side. My neck was a little sore when I woke, but nothing serious. The next morning when I got out of bed, however, I no longer had full mobility in my neck. Every time I did a Justin Bieber-esque head flick to get my bangs out of my eyes, my neck would spasm. I had been overdue to see the chiropractor before this, but was just waiting till after payday. It wasn't that big of a deal until my unfortunate nap.
Of course, that morning, the Hulk wanted pancakes for breakfast. I told him I couldn't do it because I couldn't really lift my arm much to pour the batter. I explained that I needed the doctor to fix my neck, then I could make pancakes for him. He asked when that would be, and I told him that I was going to have to wait one more day till I had enough money. (The next day was payday.) He was okay with that and I got him a bowl of cereal.
A few hours later, as he was getting ready for school, he came to me with something in his hand.
I took a cat nap on the floor a few days ago. I laid on my stomach with my head turned to the side. My neck was a little sore when I woke, but nothing serious. The next morning when I got out of bed, however, I no longer had full mobility in my neck. Every time I did a Justin Bieber-esque head flick to get my bangs out of my eyes, my neck would spasm. I had been overdue to see the chiropractor before this, but was just waiting till after payday. It wasn't that big of a deal until my unfortunate nap.
Of course, that morning, the Hulk wanted pancakes for breakfast. I told him I couldn't do it because I couldn't really lift my arm much to pour the batter. I explained that I needed the doctor to fix my neck, then I could make pancakes for him. He asked when that would be, and I told him that I was going to have to wait one more day till I had enough money. (The next day was payday.) He was okay with that and I got him a bowl of cereal.
A few hours later, as he was getting ready for school, he came to me with something in his hand.
"Here, Mom," he said.
"What's this, sweetheart?" I asked as I reached to take whatever he was offering.
He opened his hand to reveal a quarter and some pennies he'd been holding on to.
"You can have some of my money to fix your neck."
I melted.
That boy of mine may drive me crazy peeing his pants, but he is one sweet kid.
He knows how to sacrifice and give a gift of love.
Forgive the indulgence, but it's something I wanted to remember.
"What's this, sweetheart?" I asked as I reached to take whatever he was offering.
He opened his hand to reveal a quarter and some pennies he'd been holding on to.
"You can have some of my money to fix your neck."
I melted.
That boy of mine may drive me crazy peeing his pants, but he is one sweet kid.
He knows how to sacrifice and give a gift of love.
Forgive the indulgence, but it's something I wanted to remember.
p.s. I didn't have to wait to go to the chiropractor and all is well with my neck now.
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