Our Christmas in Review

Christmas 2008 proved to be an excellent one.  We enjoyed hours of holiday cheer with family and friends.  The kids took full advantage of the wintry weather and lake effect and brushed up on their sledding skills.  Santa had no problem finding our home (he better double check his naughty and nice list next year...we, indeed, were NOT deserving of all we got).  It was a wonderful Christmas and much less hectic.  My apologies for not getting out Christmas cards this season.  Something had to give and I wasn't willing to let it be my sanity.   

Here are some snapshots of our celebrating.  Due to a self-inflicted sugar coma, my head aches and I have no creativity flowing at present.  As a result of these unfortunate (and stupid) circumstances, there will be no witty captions or amusing narratives.  Feel free to come up with your own storyline of the Gregson Christmas of OH-8.  Just make sure that your tale includes a baby's first, an overly tired college student, a son's uncanny ability to always make me (and himself) cry over a gift given,  Star Wars and more Star Wars, my personal jab against the use of handkerchiefs, blogging made easier, and a crazy uncle named Brent*.

*  Not a blood relative of mine

My deepest apologies to the Gregson family.  In the midst of all of our merriment I didn't manage to get one single picture of the pinata party, the Crowells from Seattle, the Arizona Gregsons in their entirety, Uncle Ryan or G'ma and G'pa Gregson.  I was having such a good time enjoying your company and eating Ann's famous hand dipped chocolates that I forgot to capture any digital memories.  Oops!  If any of you have pictures that you're willing to share, please pass them along.  Thanks!

Santa's Helper (or A Glutton for Punishment)

When your daughter-in-law is part of the Jr. High PTSA, you never know what you'll be asked to do. Santa Gregson was called to duty and surpassed all expectations. He was fearless (remember this was at a Jr. High where there is an abundance of unstable emotions, hormonal imbalances, and more than a smattering of ornery kids), jolly (he was an expert with the "ho, ho, ho" act and workin' the crowd), and a popular man in a red suit (everyone loves Santa and Jr. High students are no exception...he received dozens of hugs, high 5's, and shout outs). Thanks to Santa for making it a not-soon-to-be-forgotten day and to Britt for supplying the minty aroma.

Kennedy with Nick and Dallin (pronounced Dall-e-in by Britt)

Mayme and Kennedy

The lunch crowd

Peppermint Purgatory

If you've been losing sleep at night wondering what 1,104 candy canes look like, let me put your drowsy mind to rest...

...that's equivalent to 92 boxes...

...unwrapped by one easily entertained 7 year old...

...who is willing to finish the job so that the entire student body at Farmington Jr. High gets a mint buzz ...

...and the whole tangle of striped confectionery enabled that same 7 year old...

...to make a mighty fortress against upcoming candy crusades...

...or frantic sugar babies.

1971

This morning I woke with a harsh reality. I am now 37 and just 3 short hops, skips and a jump away from the big 4 - 0. As I tried to ignore the alarm this morning, Jeff rolled over and whispered in my ear, "Hey birthday girl. Now, is it 73 or 37 today?" (If I wasn't contemplating adding yet another sprig to our family tree, I would have quickly nailed him in his kibbles and bits. Oh, and the "contemplating" is me, not Jeff. He says we're too old.)

I tried to roll over and go back to sleep but to no avail. Kennedy came in and gave me the birthday gift she bought with her own money. She is loving her monetary independence. After our daily mom/daughter chitchat, I got up to make my bed. The boys rushed in, made me climb back into the partially straightened sheets, and gave me birthday cuddles and kisses. Taiden has assured me that you're not truly old until "you're like 50" so I still have a few more years. 13 to be exact.

The morning has been sedated with snow. I'm delighted because I love the white stuff and it means there is a greater chance of having a white Christmas in 9 fast-approaching days.

37. I realize that we truly are an established family now and I am one of THOSE housewives. That's not a bad thing but I am definitely a "Ma'am" and not a "Miss" anymore. When did this happen? Britt had a new friend come over to play last week and when this boy's mom came to pick him up, I felt like an old dud. This cute young thing-of-a-mom came to pick up her oldest child who was playing with my third child. I felt a great need for Botox and Lipo for a fleeting moment. Then I went in and snuggled my baby and felt rejuvenated. Still young enough for a baby. Incredible how calming it is to kiss a baby's little piggies.

The vanilla bottle will remain untouched today. I will face this day with a clear mind and spring in my step. Lunch with my friend, Patricia. Calls and emails from family and friends. Our annual trek to the Bombay House for my birthday dinner. Chicken Kurma can melt away all insecurities about aging.

37 isn't bad. I'm old enough to have made plenty of mistakes that have allowed me to be one of life's object lessons. I've proven to be a slow learner. But truthfully, I wouldn't want to be in my 20's again. Those were years of "smack down" trials and errors and I'm much more comfortable and confident where I am now. I think I'm finally getting this thing called life.

37 isn't old. I'm just well warmed up and have completed a couple of laps.

Hanging Memories

Kennedy - 2000

Growing up, my mom would buy each of us an ornament that represented something about us for that year. When we married and started our own families, these ornaments came with us and hang on our trees today. I have a rocking horse to remind me of the time I broke my arm on a runaway horse in 8th grade. A sheet of cookies reflects the time when we took dozens of baked goodies to the homeless shelter and served dinner there. A piano hanging on my tree reminds me of enduring through 12 years of lessons. Some memories are more pleasant than others. :)

We have carried on this tradition with our kids. Each year, I pick up an ornament that represents them. It is one of their favorite things about Christmas. When we decorate the trees they love to find their own ornaments and reminisce about their meanings. I have stayed true to their personalities and stages throughout the years. Thus, you will find multiple Star Wars characters, a skateboarder catching air, a pocket knife, and an incredibly heinous Incredible Hulk that looks quite distorted and non-Christmas-ish. My trees will never have matching baubles and bows and sparkle like a show piece. Instead, it will adorn C-3PO's, Darth Vaders, Santas doing a myriad of crazy stunts, a Green Pickle, a variety of vehicles (including a decked out Mystery Machine!), diapered babies, and a mishmash of memories. The Festival of Trees won't be calling. That's all right.

Our memories for 2008:

Kennedy was one of the leads in her school's production of "School House Rock". She had the solo part in 4 songs. A microphone symbolizes her love of singing and all things musical.

Taiden is our resident snowboarder. This swooping action is what he plans on doing this year.

Brittan is our track star. That running man has run 60 miles and dangles 12 colorful feet from his necklace. He is in the lead for the ENTIRE school!

Shaw. Enough said.

Since Christmas is my favorite holiday, I usually pick one up for me. This depicts our bountiful, bouncing blessing for this year.

Merry Christmas from our galaxy to yours!

Thought I was kidding?

My Kids Have an Adverb Dependency

Taiden has scouts every Tuesday from 4:00 - 5:00 p.m. By 5:30 p.m. every Tuesday, I am reminding him to take off his scout shirt and hang it up in his closet. For us non-sewing mums, we have to watch that those ironed on badges don't go through too many wash cycles. As I put away laundry or check the boys' room, I see the same thing every week. A scout shirt that is technically hung up (if hung up simply means not touching the ground).

Actually, it is my fault that this poor shirt is so disheveled. I forgot to use an adverb. Taiden did as he was told. He hung up his shirt. What I should have said was "Taiden, hang up your shirt neatly, please". I forget that my kids are paralysed without descriptive words.

"Get ready quickly."

"Please talk quietly."

"Put your shoes on swiftly."

"Close the drawer gently."

"Talk to each other nicely."

"Do your homework neatly."

"Clean your room thoroughly."

"Bring mommy some of her homemade vanilla extract immediately."

Hopefully, someday in the near future, (for my kids well being and my sanity) they will be weened off of this debilitating reliance on LY words and will prove to be able to perform tasks with simple commands.

"Get ready."

"Put your shoes on."

"Close the drawer."

"Talk to each other."

"Do your homework."

"Clean your room."

"Bring me a swig of my vanilla."

Until then, I'll keep my thesaurus in my back pocket.

Additional note: After showing this post to Taiden this morning, he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh mom!" Then he proceeded to say to his brother, "Brittan, don't ever make a mistake or try something new or say ANYTHING because mom will post it on her blog. She'll say that it's cute and stuff and tell the whole world about it!" My kids put up with so much.

Three Quarters of a Century

I first met Martin D. Ehman when I was 5 years old. He has proved to be one of my biggest cheerleaders and I am one of his greatest fans. Not many men would be willing to take on a new family with 3 young children after having already raised their own. But he was up for the challenge and we've been best friends ever since. In these 30+ years, he has never treated me like a stepdaughter. He has always loved, served, and embraced me as his own. To me, that is truly unique and extraordinary. The word "step" does not exist in our vocabulary. He is one of the most generous people I know. I am blessed to have 2 dads that love me. Lucky girl.

This past weekend, he celebrated his 75th birthday. My mom arranged for several surprise visits from family members. It started Friday night when the Mackintosh clan came down from Idaho for the birthday festivities. The next morning, Becky, who flew in from N. Carolina, showed up on the doorstep and gave dad's old "ticker" an endurance test. It was such a shock for him and he was ecstatic.

The celebrating ensued with a matinee performance of "The Christmas Carol" at Hale Centre Theater. It was fabulous and I highly recommend it to anyone who has the time during this busy month. We then went to Chuck-A-Rama which my kids think is Grandpa's favorite restaurant. Truth be told, my dad is a world traveler and has much better taste than that. But since the kids love Up-Chuck-A-Rama and my dad loves seeing them have the fun of filling their plates with whatever their little palates desire, he usually chooses to go there. Small sacrifices from a Grandpa's big heart.

The day and evening continued with our traditional dice game and a "moist chocolate cake" (inside family joke). Fun was had by all. Plenty of cousin time. Catching up on life's happenings. Snuggling and kissing little cheeks. 'Tis the season of loving one's family and counting our blessings.

Dad made it 75 years. Another 75 years is on the docket.

A snapshot with one of the play's lead characters. This guy could be the real Santa. His laugh is the heartiest and jolliest I've ever heard.

Dad and Becky

Shaw and the famous Aunt Carene



Everyone with their loot after the dice game. Grandma and Grandpa "cleaned house" during the game. However, as always, they generously spread the wealth with everyone and gave their prizes to the kids (and us adults who ended the game empty handed).


Additional comment: Shaw had a hard night last night - he thinks all the snugly love he gets during the day should continue through the night. I was talking to my dad this morning and told him how Jeff got the kids off to school so that I could catch up on some sleep. My dad isn't one to take such information and do nothing with it. He takes action. He showed up on my doorstep this afternoon with dinner for my family to enjoy tonight. He is amazing and thoughtful. Thanks Dad!

Shaw-zam

Am I a bad mom because I don't want the natural progression of a human being to invade upon my 7 month bliss? Am I selfish because I don't want him to grow any teeth that will ruin his gummy grin and ability to gnaw on my chin? Is it awful that I, in a gentle and casual way, want to knock his wobbly knees out from under him as he is trying to get up on all fours (the precursor to crawling, remember)? I don't want him to gain another ounce or grow another .000001 of an inch. I want everyday, for at least the next 5 years or so, to be filled with slobbers and tickles and rolls of baby fat. I want all his hungry "hmmmm's", his babbles, his shy head tucks into my shoulder. I want his new found talent of clapping to continue to evoke applauds from his greatest fans - us. I want our baby bubble to stay strong and not burst.

Not yet.

But the human progression must march forward. Reluctantly, and with a lump in my throat, I present to you a few tricks of my little caboose.

Say "adios" to the Bumbo. He can flip himself out of it.

The car seat is just a slip-n-slide now.

The world has so much to offer when you can see it from this angle.

(No baby was harmed in the making of this video.)

Just a quick explanation. Shaw has a dad who thinks babies and young children find enjoyment out of being used as playthings. Toys, of the human sort, that can be tossed or flipped or spun around as the video clearly depicts. Jeff used to do similar antics on his youngest brother, Ryan. Once he attached surgical tubing (used by his mom for resistance training during the 80's aerobic craze) to Ryan, hung him over the banister, and proceeded to participate in one of the earliest forms of bungee jumping. Clever? Yes. Completely grown out of this type of entertainment? Obviously not.

Kennedy Has OCD...

...that's Obsessive Cullen Disorder for those who don't understand "seventh grade-ese". I took her to see a matinee of Twilight on Saturday and she loved it. In fact, she's been dreaming in Twilight the last few nights (last night she was Bella and Mike was flirting with her). She has read the 1st book of the series and I'll let her read the second, but the 3rd and 4th will have to wait. I think she's a little young for things that make MY heart pound and get MY cheeks flushed. We ran to Target after seeing the show and somehow wound up with the Twilight soundtrack in our basket. How did that happen? I always seem to spend more money when she is with me. We are a dangerous duo to the budget when we're together. She actually paid for part of it. I love babysitting money.

Yes, she is holding the Twilight book in her hand at the theater.

As the sidebar suggestion says, the soundtrack is really good. Even Jeff , who hates Edward and all things Cullen, really likes it. Check out the links to listen:

1. Muse - Supermassive Black Hole
2. Paramore - Decode
3. The Black Ghosts - Full Moon
4. Linkin Park - Leave Out All the Rest
5. Mutemath - Spotlight (Twilight Mix)
6. Perry Farrell - Go All the Way Into the Twilight
7. Collective Soul - Tremble for My Beloved
8. Paramore - I Caught Myself
9. Blue Foundation - Eyes on Fire
10. Rob Pattison - Never Think
11. Iron and Wine - Flightless Bird, American Mouth
12. Carter Burwell - Bella's Lullaby
    

Abundance.

I AM THANKFUL FOR...

...the mess to clean after a party

because it means I have been surrounded by family and friends.

...the taxes I pay

because it means that I am employed.

...the clothes that fit a little too snug

because it means I have enough to eat.

...My shadow who watches me work

because it means I am in the sunshine.

...The spot I find at the far end of the parking lot

because it means I am capable of walking.

...All the complaining I hear about government

because it means we have freedom of speech.

...A lawn that needs mowing, windows that need cleaning, and gutters that need fixing

because it means I have a home.

...The lady behind me who sings off key

because it means that I can hear.

...My huge heating bill

because it means I am warm.

...The alarm that goes off in the early morning

because it means that I am alive.

...Weariness and aching muscles at the end of the day

because it means I have been productive.

...The piles of laundry and dishes

because it means that loved ones are nearby.

- author unknown

Hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Happy Leftovers!!! :)

P.S. I am also thankful for a dad who, like me, cannot ever do anything in a small way. Even when it comes to making the mashed potatoes. I have NEVER in my life seen a bowl of taters that huge. I think he mashed up a 20 lb. bag. It felt like 20 lb. passing it around the table. It should have come with its own forklift.

Bootleggin'...

...that's what Jeff calls it. But I call it being industrious. I come from pioneer stock. It's instilled in me to be a hard worker (definitely), thrifty (yeah right), and coming up with cheaper ways of doing things (stop laughing, Jeff) . OK, maybe I only truly inherited the hard work ethic and ability to look very unattractive in photographs from my ancestors. The thrifty and "make it for much cheaper" genes must have mutated by the time they reached me. But I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm trying on a new mantra. I'm stretching myself into a "make it yourself" mold. And I'm starting by making my own

VANILLA EXTRACT...

...using only the finest ingredients. And what are those ingredients you ask? Come close my friends and I'll tell you. This may or may not be legal in the Mormon community so come even closer because I must speak in hushed tones.

• First you use the best quality vanilla beans. Mine came from Mexico (pronounced "May-he-co" for added effect) These plump, fragrant, long beauties were smuggled (OK, they were actually shipped FedEx) across the border and delivered to an undisclosed person who happens to be in my ward and just happens to be Britt's former Sunbeam teacher. Should I be worried that they were measured out in kilos?




• Next comes the liquid. Can't use water or milk. Can't use Kool-Aid or Gatorade. Can't use the traditional Mormon fruit juice with Sprite. Nope. You gotta use, come even closer, vodka, gin, rum or brandy. There, I said it. Now you see where the bootleggin' tag comes in, huh? I'm choosing to use vodka because I'm told that it doesn't have a taste, just a kick. I wouldn't know. My supplier, who happens to live kitty-corner from me and has ancestral Russian ties, even does home delivery.



• Split beans, slip into vodka, shake occasionally and wait. The homemade vanilla extract can be used after 4 weeks, but the "priceless stuff" takes time...6 months to be exact. Like a fine wine, the extract will continue to improve with age and can last forever if properly stored. That gives me time to use up my cheap, not-so-tasty, Kroger brand imitation vanilla flavoring. I also learned how to make vanilla sugar. Great for baking.

Jeff says he will mark the Smirnoff bottle everyday with a marker to see if the liquid level changes. On exceptionally rough kids-are-driving-me-crazy-I-want-to-make-it-all-go-away days, a swig of 100 proof Russian triple distilled vodka may be all I need. Or maybe I bake up a batch of sugar cookies, heavily flavored with my personal stash.

If you see me and I smell extra vanilla-y, just don't ask any questions. Take my keys and drive me home, please.