I’m not sure if that’s really what Harper wanted for Christmas, but it’s what she got!

Not sure if you can tell on that photo or not, but there are two little white (sharp!) nubs there at the bottom that represent teeth #1 and #2. The first one appeared late on Christmas Day (around 9:30 pm, when I was just starting to think about sleep — ha! ha!), and the second one arrived the next morning. Thank goodness there was a 24-hour Walgreens open that happened to carry teething tablets, or I don’t think either Harper or I would have made it through the night. Let’s just say that Harper takes pain personally….and loudly, and continuously.

Other events during Torture Harper week included introducing her to her first vegetable (after all, she’s 5 months old now!)….

…and a check-up at the doctor’s office because she has bronchiolitis. Needless to say, it’s been a week!

I thought I’d share this year’s Christmas card for your enjoyment. Merry Christmas to one and all!

PS> Cole wanted to wish everybody a Merry Christmas, too! He’s just been sick the past few days and couldn’t be conned into posing for pictures. But if you were here, he’d sing a round of “Jinging Bells” to get you in the mood…

PPS> See how I’m trying to sit up in that last picture? Really, I was mostly folded in half, but I’m working on it. (Does my hair look a little red there, or is it just me?)

So this is Minnesota. The “other” Minnesota, that is. Off the beaten path, outside of the Cities, and surrounded by acres of farm land. This is the picture in my mind when I think of my childhood home (except I usually like to remember it in the summertime, when it’s warmer, sunny, and bright, and there’s a bunch of corn growing in the fields.)
I grew up in an itty bitty little town in the south-central part of the state. Smaller than a one-stoplight town (we only rated a flashing yellow) and built along a single-lane highway, featuring a proportional number of bars to churches, a few ever-changing cafes, a bowling alley, a grocery store, and the best bakery ever. (It also has a reputation for being the polka capital of the world, but I’ve never been able to verify the authenticity of that claim despite the fact that it’s proclaimed on the water tower…)



We lived (and my parents still live) about a mile from town. At the end of this road is where I waited many, many mornings for the bus to come pick me up. Or, more acurately, this is where the bus driver waited many times for his/her often very late first passenger of the morning, with backpack and snowsuit (that my mother thought I should wear for goodness sake) in tow. I cannot tell you how many times I boarded that bus with frozen hair because I didn’t have enough time to dry it before running out the door. But I digress…

Returning home for a few days during vacation was a treat for me. It was fun to observe Cole and Harper partaking in those memories that are such a great part of my childhood, like helping make Christmas cookies or reclining in the big wooden rocking chair on Grandma’s lap. It was the perfect excuse to feast on peanut butter bars from the bakery. It was an opportunity to photograph the landscape that was a part of my life for so long but that has now faded in memory since moving South. Unfortunately, it was not quite long enough to take in a few games at the bowling alley.


But more than anything, it was a blessing to be able to spend time together as a family. Baby-of-the-family Mark was home from school and Kristina flew in from NC the day before we did. So we were all together again, just in a new way, what with the very welcome additions of Mark (referring to my husband this time), Cole, and Harper.





And that, my friends, is also why we do such crazy things, like bundle up our two kids to catch a 5am flight, cram half of our worldy possessions into 4 big suitcases, use our credit card/debit cards to accrue frequent flier miles, and sleep on couches or floors or other fairly flat accomodations. For family: to watch the grandparents dote on their only grandchildren, to tease and laugh with younger siblings, to chat with relatives and celebrate their accomplishments, and, as always, to capture memories in photographs. The temperature may not be warm, but the company is bliss.

And besides, we can always catch up on our sleep later, right?

While I’m editing photos I thought I’d post this one of Cole waiting for the airplane…

….more to come soon!

Well, we woke up way too early, packed four overstuffed pieces of luggage and two bundled baby burritos into the car, drove through 5 inches of newly fallen snow, followed two slowpoke snowplows almost the entire way to the airport, returned our rental car, hauled said luggage and children to the terminal, encountered one entirely rude and obnoxious ticket person when checking in, took up residence at the security checkpoint as they looked through our camera bag, arrived out of breath at our gate just in time to board the plane (only to then wait 30 minutes for the plane to be de-iced before taking off), and finally relaxed as both children fell asleep upon take-off. Phew! Then we arrived at our connection, waited for the stroller to be removed from the plane (it was the last item off, of course), quickly caffeinated ourselves at Starbucks, walked down to the long lost and forgotten section of the airport to locate the E4A gate, (which really just stands for “this plane is very small and you must walk out to the tarmac to board it”), popped up into the air for a brief 15 minute flight, walked into another terminal, retrieved our bedraggled luggage, located the van in the parking area and loaded it up, swung through a drive-through on our way home, and finally turned into our driveway. And all of this before noon!

Then, we returned home, ate lunch, unpacked luggage, started a few loads of laundry, sorted through the mail, opened a few boxes containing Christmas gifts for others, checked, responded and deleted emails, put the two kids down for a nap, wrote this blog entry, and
c
o
l
l
a
p
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e
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But it was worth it. : )

Thank you, thank you, Aunt Doris and Uncle Tim, (and Erin and Phil) for your hospitality, and to Mom and Dad for our wonderful (and delicious) visit in the “frozen tundra.” Cole asked on the way home if he could “live at Gamma and Gampa’s house.” He was very disappointed when we told him we would miss him too much, but then later asked “live at Santa’s house?” Thanks also to Brandy for taking care of our house, Christmas tree, and mail while we were gone. And for the record, despite our snowy departure this morning, and the “bone-chilling 10 degrees” when we arrived in Minnesota, the weather really wasn’t that bad.

5 years ago or so Mark introduced me to a new holiday tradition when we took our first trip to a Christmas tree farm waaaay up yonder in the mountains. Last year we were delighted to discover a Fraser fir farm on the other side of Asheville, and took Cole for his first [very muddy] adventure there, with the promise to return again this year (and the knowledge that we’d probably be introducing a new little someone to their very first Christmas as well.) So this past Saturday we loaded up the van and somehow managed to arrive at the farm early enough — which is amazing, considering that getting anywhere early is a miracle for us right now with the 2 kiddos — to beat the rush and immediately catch a hayride from the parking area to the stand of trees. I imagine that some of you may think it silly to pay the same price for a tree we pick out, cut down, and carry down the mountain ourselves, but really, it’s FUN!

That being said, I think you can probably tell from the first photo that one of the occasional problems with living in the mountains is a shortage of flat land. Which means that the trees grow on the sides of the mountains. Which means that when we got off of the hayride, we had to crane our necks up, up, up, in order to survey our tree choices. Considering that Mark was loaded down with a 38+ pounder and saw, and I had a 16-pounder strapped to my front, I don’t think it was very long into our uphill adventure before Mark and I looked at each in silent agreement and thought, “hmmm, maybe we don’t really need a 6-7 footer this year. I think I could settle for this smaller version right here.” And settle we did, for a slightly shorter tree, which Cole “helped” Mark cut down and carry.

When we got back to the base of the mountain we thought we’d give Cole the chance to talk to Santa. Except Cole had decided at this point that he would really rather not see or talk to Santa, which I believe this really lovely photo illustrates quite well.
It was probably just as well, though, because this “imposter” seemed to deviate from the whole Santa script a bit. For instance, did you know Santa owned a beagle? A deaf beagle, apparently. Is there not some Santa code of ethics they should adhere to?

Anyway, after leaving the farm, I made Mark stop so that I could take photos of these cute little white clapboard churches on the drive home (just guess how much Mark enjoyed those stops! If this photo were larger you could probably see him laughing at me through the window.)

Despite Mark’s forgetting that the tree was still strapped to the roof of the van when he pulled into the garage (but whew!! it fit!) we managed to make it home in one piece. After putting the babes down for naps (peace and quiet!) we started the decorating process. I just love the way it all takes shape and changes the entire mood of the house! Plus, our living room is very condusive to Christmas, considering that its design features sage green walls with red decor accents. How convenient is that?! By the time that Cole woke up from his nap the whole living room had been transformed, and there was a log burning in the fireplace, a medley of Christmas carols in the CD player, and a decorated tree glowing in the corner of the room.


Which brings me to my favorite part — seeing the magic, cozy glow of Christmas on these two faces, remembering that same feeling of awe from when I was a child, and knowing that the love, peace, hope, joy, and anticipation of the season is all ahead of us.

This little moppet turned 4 months old on Sunday. Isn’t this the most comical photo of her?? She loves playing with her tongue and the wonky hat just cracks me up. The poor thing got 4 shots yesterday, too, so she wouldn’t let me coax a smile out of her, but I think this photo will do.

At 4 months of age she is certainly a chunky little monkey, just an inch shorter and a pound lighter than her brother was at this age. She’s got such deep, adorable, kissable rolls on her — you know, the kind where you can later find cereal remnants in the crevice under her neck? She just started with rice cereal at the end of last week (after all, it was the week of Thanksgiving and she hates to be excluded!) and seems to be doing well. Messy, but good in the fact that she laps it up like buttah.

Now that her reflux is almost gone we’ve moved her to her crib for naps and bedtime. So far, so good. In fact, for the past two nights she (and I) have slept wonderfully long. I almost hate to bring up the subject, though, for fear I’ll jinx it. She’s also working on rolling over, but is mostly interested in trying to sit up. Yes, apparently someone forgot to tell her that she’s a baby, because if you try to hold her, she’ll let you know that she prefers to stand up or sit so that she can view everyone around her. She’s our little social one, that’s for sure!

She also happens to be the most stylish one around here, too, thanks to the teeniest, tiniest, sweetest, most adorable bracelets that she received today from Rebecca. THANK YOU, Rebecca!!