Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas to all!

The Christmas Piggy

Recently, Our Little Mouse had a starring role as a Christmas pig in our congregation's Nativity program. She also wore the costume to a Sunday morning visit at an area assisted living center. She is definitely the cutest Christmas pig we have ever seen!

Distracted during the congregation's Nativity program, Our Little Mouse stares at a baby doll in a wooden crib. She was likely just wishing she had a doll like the one in the crib, but I like to think that she was pondering the birth of our Savior at this moment. 

And here is the Christmas pig, surrounded by visitors to the Savior's creche, pointing at Daddy to put the camera down and come get her off the stage!

And so, it begins

Overheard in our kitchen one week ago: "Homework is boring! Why do we have to do homework?"

Mind you, this utterance came from our 5-and-a-half year-old, who loves school. She said it in a mix of joking and seriousness. She was coloring in her homework assignment, and maybe she picked up the whines from older kids on the bus. I resisted so hard being that parent, the ones who chime in with thoughtful responses like, "Get used to it!" or "You ain't seen nothing yet." Instead, I just let the comment drift on the air.

In the future, I will gladly direct my daughter to this photo of her when her homework whines become less joking-around. Laughing it up in the library:

Frenetic

I am not sure about all of the factors making it so, but this impending Christmas season has felt like a whirlwind. In my ideal world, and even in a more realistic view which we have personally experienced in years past, the Christmas season is spent with family and friends in a well-paced, lingering-long climate of unhurried conversation, delicious meals, moments of quiet contemplation, and anticipation. Work of course takes a significant chunk of my daily routine, and that's totally fine. In fact, aside from an uncharacteristically meetings-filled calendar over the last six weeks, work has been terrific and hasn't contributed to my current state. 

The real reality of this approaching Christmas season looks like a patch-worked, loud, hustling blur. Scrambling to finish the kitchen renovation. Calls and e-mails to a slew of people for time-sensitive church meetings--many of which go unanswered. Delicious food pushed aside as I scramble for heaps of chocolate at work, egg nog at home, and junk food to offset the anxiety of yet another day and night full of items on a checklist. One of the biggest factors making it so frantic is the online course I am privileged to be teaching. I didn't have this opportunity last Christmas, so I am learning how to balance family, work, church, and teaching *and* moments of uninterrupted fun--moments when our little family really lives in the Christmas season.

I said "no" to a colleague's non-work related request yesterday, and truthfully, it was relieving. There was no way I could have given his academic request the time it needed. Last year, I probably would have lept at the chance. Maybe the rush and crush and busy-ness of this special season ebbs and flows year over year?


A part of me feels like December should be one long, well-paced celebration of Christ's birth and loved ones, with worship at church and gatherings with family and friends to reconnect, unwind, and unplug. I have long envisioned watching a Christmas special each night with my kids, reading stacks of books, and--yes, even this--going caroling. Becky will love to read that! She's been hoping for a caroling cavalcade at Christmas for awhile.

Yet somehow, each morning has been a mad dash of getting kids off to school and Joy School, and me to work. Each evening has been filled with kitchen stuff, checklist stuff, church stuff, teaching stuff, and absolutely pointless-waste-of-time stuff like following baseball deals. In short, each day and night since Thanksgiving feels like any day or night before Thanksgiving. The specialness and joy of the Christmas season is lost in the pace of days that feel much like any other. Sometimes, the only noticeable differences between, say, last Friday and any day in September are the temperature outside and our clothing.

And all of this plays out against a backdrop of stifling consumerism that I won't touch with a ten-foot-pole right now.

I can definitely step back and re-prioritize some things. I can stop checking ESPN and instead spend the time watching Christ-centered videos on LDS.org or BYU-TV--things that will bring in some measure of what I am really looking for, even if it's only for a half-hour or so. But our kids are routinely going to bed at 8 or later, and we try to join them around 10:30. There simply isn't enough time in a day, any day, for a balance, and I am left feeling like it will be December 26th before I know it.

I want to step back, break free, and let my kids' wonder, a slower pace, and quieter, deeper moments fill the passing days of the calendar.

As I am writing, I am grateful to have this blog.

In that last paragraph, I've commented on items that I have sought out and allowed to fill up what precious time I have. Instead, I would like to spend time doing some different things to capture the spirit of Christmas--whether in the fun and giddy excitement with kids, or in the slower-paced, contemplative activities with Becky or alone.

This blog post was mostly inspired by the frenetic pace of life right now. But playing another influential role was President Dieter F. Uchtdorf's 2010 talk "Of Things That Matter Most." The word amazing is bandied about far too much in our uber-celebrity-obsessed culture, but this talk is amazing. Here is but one gem:

"It is good advice to slow down a little, steady the course, and focus on the essentials when experiencing adverse conditions."

Another terrific talk he gave, that same year, has helped me at least think about how to make better priorities over the next two weeks:

"We know what the Christmas season ought to be. We know it should be a time of reflection on the birth of the Savior, a time of celebration and of generosity. But sometimes our focus is so much on the things that annoy and overwhelm us that we can almost hear ourselves say in unison with the Grinch: 'Why, for fifty-three years I've put up with it now! I must stop this Christmas from coming!But how?' While it's true that we can find materialism and anxiety in Christmas, it is also true that if we have eyes to see, we can experience the powerful message of the birth of the Son of God and feel the hope and peace He brings to the world. We, like the Grinch, can see Christmas through new eyes."

I can't think of anything else to add. More whines after President Uchtdorf's instruction, unbecoming. I can almost feel the frenetic pace slowing down, right now, as I sit in our living room, with our kids all asleep in one room, our little Christmas tree shining before me, President Uchtdorf speaking on my laptop, and Becky out with one of her closest friends.

It's a gift. I am going to go focus on it more now.

Kitchen remodel = Done!

Our kitchen renovation is completed, friendly readers! It was just over two months from the time we started ripping up the floor. It was over six months since the time I came home from work in April to find that Becky had ripped the old, nasty linoleum off the kitchen floor and decided, "Since we've come this far already, let's ditch the idea of replacing the floor and overhaul the whole kitchen!" We are thrilled that this project, the biggest non-having kids and non-buying a house project we have ever undertaken, is over.

You might think of me as a Christmastime Grinch of sorts, because the photos that follow aren't 100% just about the done stage of the renovation. In fact, most of the photos show a kitchen remodel that was still in the construction phase. These photos are the most recent ones that I have access to. So, bear with me.

Showing off the new floor, also known as our kids' newest speedway. That beautiful island in the middle has turned into a sweet obstacle course for our kids, especially Mr. Moo. He can navigate his sisters' pink-and-purple 4-wheeler around the island with military precision! The photo above was taken before the doors were re-framed and before the appliances were delivered. It obviously looks even better now. Come and see for yourself!

Ah, there is our new microwave, properly re-positioned to fully open. That only took me and our contractor Roy four hours to manipulate. But hey, it was much, much better than our originally dire thought that we would need to shift the entire bank of wall-mounted cabinets--all to accommodate a 3/4ths of an inch need for space to allow the microwave door to open all the way.

And here is our entertainer extraordinaire, the Mouse! Any as-yet-unfilled hole in our kitchen remodel became a wonderful place for hide-and-seek. In the photo above, she has parked herself in our undermount sink's basin.

Hamming it up for the camera! We needed more of her laughs during this process.

On the first Saturday in December, Becky and our girls celebrated the opening of our fully functional new kitchen. We built a gingerbread house in the afternoon, right on the new counter top, while Mr. Moo napped. The kitchen has been a winner in two regards:

1. It is modern, with all new appliances. It features our very first dishwasher. Having such a device after years of going without must be tantamount to all of the millions of people who got their first taste of freedom after decades of suffocating conformity and oppression behind the Iron Curtain. Okay, well...not even close. I was just being dramatic. But the dishwasher has been a great new addition to the family.

2. The new kitchen has become our new family hang-out. We didn't anticipate this, but it's true. And we love it. We eat meals in there. We read books in there. We hang out with friends in there. Becky and I talk once the kids are upstairs in bed in the new kitchen now. That's also meant that our dining room has become less cluttered. It feels like that room has somehow expanded, too. Awesome!

A few views from different angles of the kitchen. The ladder above was set up for our good friend Hugh, who worked over a couple nights and mornings to totally re-paint the whole space. So, you know, these "done" photos are still showing works in progress, but these photos are the closest ones I have handy, showing our kitchen in its nearly-complete stage.

We are excited to start having friends over for dinner again. It has been a really long time since we've had dinner guests. And it's a terrific feeling to have the biggest non-having-a-child life whirlwind behind us.

Brrrr!

Saturday afternoon, November 24th. We came home from morning errands and a visit to our town library. Our house was comfortable on the inside. In years past, before we had kids, Becky and I did not turn our heater/furnace on until at least December 1st. Nowadays, as the number of kids has increased--along with our ages--we are a lot more leniant/bigger wusses when it comes to heating our home and ourselves.

Still, despite the furnace and the not-overly-chilly weather outside, I walked into our front living room to this adorably comical sight:

From the looks of it, you would think we were holding auditions in our living room for a remake of the classic movie

Chicken Parm Club

Over the last two years, I have become a self-proclaimed connoisseur of chicken parm sandwiches. So much so that I have started an informal monthly Chicken Parm Club (CPC) at my office, with a bunch of other guys. We scope out delis and Italian restaurants within a 15-minute drive of our office in our never-ending quest for the best chicken parmigiana sandwich. It's a fun office tradition and a great way to bond with co-workers outside of work.

Recently, I initiated another new member: my 17-month-old son. No, he isn't part of the official-but-unofficial office CPC. But just give it about two decades. In the meantime, I was on cloud 9 watching Mr. Moo dig in to my piping hot, saucy, cheese-melting chicken parm sandwich on a rockin' Saturday night at home. He totally loved every bite and kept going back for more. The quality of the photos isn't top-notch, but in terms of quality control, Moose played his part well.

Check out that smile! That is the look of a little boy in culinary heaven, huh?

Kitchen Remodel: New Appliances

We are getting there! Every day over the last week and a half, progress--noticeable, real progress--has been made in our kitchen remodel. It is relieving and encouraging to see, because for a time around Veterans Day, I honestly thought that the calendar would turn to January 2013 without our renovation completed. I practically wept like President Eyring, pointing my finger on the podium to the beat of many lamentations filled with "This isn't done!" "The contractor isn't coming over tomorrow?" "How much more will this cost?" and, my personal favorite, "So, you're telling me we still won't have a working oven for the weekend?"

However, early last week, some wonderful arrivals debuted in our house. I was glad to stay home long enough before leaving for work to see their delivery: a new fridge, a new oven, and a dish- washer. It's the first dishwasher Becks and I have had in our 7.5 years of marriage. It's the first dish-washer I have had since my first garden apartment in Boston, a decade ago.

Becky has always wanted to have 8 children. On the morning that the new appliances arrived, we traded some jokes about the new appliances, as their birth--together with our 3 real kids--gets us to 6 "children." So, we are almost there in the kids quotient. Ha! I congratulated Becky on delivering 3 all at once. And these new ones will cost less over time than the real ones! And people, we are just joking around; no offense intended. This remodel has been a significant source of stress on many fronts over the last half-year, and we have desperately needed comic relief here and there to fill in the long, skull-numbing, stress-inducing, funds-depleting gaps between signs of progress. 

Now roll that beautiful appliance footage!

Here is the Love of My Life, so glad she's my wife General Contractor Superstar. Fawning over her new fridge like any proud new mama. Also, it's clear that unlike me, Becky has not taken to eating copious amounts of junk food as a coping mechanism during this renovation. Well done, beautiful!

Our youngest two had a carnival in our new kitchen, exploring all of the new devices with their buttons and shiny features. Yes, we went with stainless steel, so shoot us. We obviously know all about fingerprints and dings, but ultimately felt best with the stainless steel appliances. There is no way that this new kitchen will not end up looking well lived-in, with 3 young kids. And, for a nostalgia-fueled dad like me, the prints and dings serve as a reminder of those many young kids moments that will come and go all too quickly.



Our Little Mouse totally approves of the new, shiny stuff. She made herself at home, opening doors and poking around the place, no doubt checking out oodles of fun, new secret hiding places for her trove of books, dolls, and gadgets.

As of this morning, with more progress made since these photos were taken, we'd estimate that we are 90% done with the kitchen renovation. We blew past by estimated completion date (the Friday before Thanksgiving) and Becky's (the day before Thanksgiving), and are now aiming to get the whole thing completely done by Saturday, December 1st.

Home stretch, home stretch, home stretch...

Good Old Lovesick #28

Mr. Moo broke out a new one-piece suit last week. He loved it, and we loved parading him around in it. I think it's cool, and just hope that he doesn't outgrow it anytime soon. I may even be tempted to buy bigger-sized models as he grows.

Here comes good old #28 (plus, you get to see more recent photos of our kitchen):

Our Mighty Moose is now 18 months old and is currently enduring Month #3 of his Lovesick-for-Daddy fever. Longtime readers may recall that his oldest sister had a raging case of this very same Lovesickness about 3.5 to 4 years ago. I sometimes miss those days and moments when Goose could not even be seated across the dinner table from me without howling and reaching for my arms.

Now I get to re-live some of the magic, the longing, and the frustration, with another lovesick child. Seriously, for all of the moments of frustration, the loss of personal time, and my jokes about it, I am a lucky man.

To be loved so fiercely and positively by another person is incredible--that for all of my faults and selfish moments and less-than-stellar attitude, I am worthy of such devotion and love is a gift from above. It's one of the best things about being a parent. It's also a blast to have another eager little sidekick by my side.

Kitchen Remodel Update

Our last kitchen appliance went in on Thursday evening this week! It's our new microwave, and here is Good Old Timo helping our contractor Roy install it. All of our new appliances--fridge, stove, microwave, and a dishwasher (which we have never had in our 7 years of marriage)--were delivered on Thursday. It was a truly exciting milestone.

Yes, we are making good progress. Yes I am overdue for a further-reaching kitchen remodel update to post on our blog.

Attempt #1 above, seconds after I walked in the door from work.

Well, not so fast..Attempt #2. The microwave matches the stove, and everything looks good. The appliances would be all hooked up on Friday morning, ready to use.

Becky made me post this one above!

Looks nice, doesn't it? It took about 10 minutes to maneuver and re-position the microwave. Seconds after this photo was taken, Roy and I were in a moment of jubilation as we would finally have a fully functional kitchen for the weekend. Becky snapped these shots.

Roy wrapped his hand around the microwave handle, excitedly proclaimed, "Tim, you can make popcorn in here tomorrow!" and pulled on the microwave door.


It didn't open.

You read that right.

The microwave door did not open.

It didn't budge even a fraction of an inch.


See that beautiful little cabinet to the left of the microwave? It is over too far to the right, by less than one inch. There is a little fill-piece to the top right side of the cabinet (next to the white horizontal bar) on the right of the microwave. That fill-piece is actually on the wrong side; it should be to the right of the cabinet to the left of the microwave. Everything would have then lined up correctly, and the microwave would have both fit and opened.

Instead, with the cabinet off by less than an inch and the fill-piece on the wrong side, our microwave fits snuggly in its position but too snug--the door cannot open at all.

To quote the Police's masterful Synchronicity II song: "It's a humiliating kick in the crotch."

So, we are stuck without a microwave, even now on Sunday morning. We have looked for smaller microwaves in an effort to not have to re-shuffle the cabinets. We have seriously considered moving that fill-piece to the correct side of the microwave, which would necessitate the said re-shuffling of the cabinets. That would necessitate at least a half-day of work on work that we have already done, which is so frustrating to us. We have looked for microwaves that have a top-down handle as opposed to a opens-from-the-right handle. We are still thinking it over.

But hey, everything else works fine and looks good!

Sleeping kids' post, take 2

I kid you not...on Sunday evening, the same day that I ranted and bared to the world our woes about one child's nighttime antics...she started sleeping just fine straight through the night! So, that post will not be deleted, as I had threatened.

However, there is often good news and bad news. The bad news is that, just two nights later, Mr. Moo started his own antics. This round, as opposed to his sister's schtick at bedtime, he cranks it up in the middle of the night. Now, in his defense, he is currently living through at least 2 bottom molars and 1 canine tooth busting through his gums. That might be all or part of the reason for his antics. 

But we don't think that teething is all or part of it. The medicine we've given him to help his teething issues do not seem to have much effect. Then again, as far as teething goes, he's not terribly cranky. No, Moose's antics are the same that medicine cannot and should not address. Once he's awake, he's just happy to be AWAKE! For an hour, 90 minutes, or two hours.

Arrghh!

There is a reason why we did not pack our summer oscillating fan in our attic once New England nights turned chilly enough to crank on the furnace. We have let him cry it out as much as possible each night. The dude just has to learn. In the meantime, this episode mentally ranks somewhere between "torture" and "it's just a phase" for him and for us.

A Tale of 1 and the other 2

See these two? They are our oldest child and our youngest child.

They have been sharing one bedroom for months, and are currently our best sleepers among our trio of kids. They typically go to bed easily, with a song and a prayer and few books and minimal post- nighty night attention. And if, tonight or any night this week, their bedtime behavior drastically changes, well...this blog post never happened. I will seriously delete it.

The Goose (on left) and The Moose (on right) only really give us some bedtime theatrics when their sibling really acts up. Their sibling is this one:

On Halloween afternoon, with self-administered facepaint.

On Halloween afternoon, squeezing into her 17-month-old brother's Halloween costume.

She has been the nightly nighttime source of angst, teeth-gritting, and obstinance. Most nights, she will ask for: a) one more drink of water; b) another book; c) someone to sleep beside her; d) one of us to check on her after our chores are done; e) reassurance that we are not leaving the house; f) pancakes for breakfast in the morning if she stays in bed; and g) any other actions or props that will both delay her falling asleep and increase our frustration.

There is Catholic guilt, and there is Mormon guilt. As a former of one and a current of the other, I am suffering from a bout of double-guilt, like a double ear infection I guess. I feel guilty at being so flippin' frustrated at Mouse's bedtime shtick.

On Thursday evening, after twice calmly laying next to her and speaking softly with her, I left her side an hour after bedtime. Having previously been warned that if she cried *again* and woke up her siblings *again* that night that I would whisk her out to our minivan to sleep in alone for the night, Mouse could not help herself. She sobbed and asked for Becky and tried to crawl out of bed to wake up Goose to get our attention. I darted up the stairs like my pants were on fire, entered their bedroom, and without saying a word carried Mouse all the way out to our cold car. She had crossed a line of frustration, and I was crossing a line of sanity. I was lucid enough to not try to get her all the way in our car, however. Mouse flailed and resisted getting in the car. So, I wisely chose not to force her in. I don't need a 911 call, thank you. We went back inside and Becky took over. She tried the calm approach that I had tried an hour earlier, and it worked, finally--90 minutes after Mouse's bedtime officially began.

In these moments, my guilt takes over. I should feel grateful to have a child, right? I should try to find how I can improve my own attitude and progress in these trials, right? I should think of the eternal perspective, right?

My answers:

I do feel grateful, on a daily basis and at various times for various reasons. But I think it's okay to feel negatively as well. I can see how I can improve my own attitude, after the moment has passed. But the next time her shtick flares up, it's hard to return to that place of quiet learning and remember how I promised myself and God I would act the next time my patience is maxed. The eternal perspective gets shuttled somewhere to the far reaches of time and space in my mental tally of "It's 9 o'clock, you're on the verge of *again* waking up your sick brother and your sister who has school in the morning, and we have dishes to wash in the downstairs bath tub and clothes to fold and crap, it would be awesome if Becky and I had even 20 minutes to unwind and talk like adults before Mr. Sandman comes calling for us."   

Blogging about it, though perhaps crossing the TMI line, certainly helps. It's our family's journal. And on a certain night, about 25 years in the future, we can break the hard-copy version of this blog out and chat with this very same daughter as she encounters one of her own children putting on the bedtime song-and-dance. And just as this is a phase for us and we'll survive (I am supremely confident of that), it will be a phase for her in her own family of the future.

And I don't feel the slightest bit guilty in relishing a mental vision of me chuckling into the phone and offering a half-a$$ed less-than-heartfelt "Good luck with that!" when Mouse calls us at a time in the future to ask what to do with her own child who is pushing the bedtime boundaries of time, sanity, and love at home!

Party in the Leaves

The Saturday before Hurricane Sandy hit, I got outside to rake up our leaf-covered backyard. I've always enjoyed raking leaves. It's somehow relaxing to me and gives me an often-needed but seldom-realized few moments of quiet reflection and contemplation. That Saturday morning, I was out there around 7:30 a.m. while our kids slept in a bit.

After breakfast, we all came outside to pitch in on yardwork. There was a lot to do, and more would come after Sandy's winds hit two days later. But in the midst of raking up the yard and corraling kids, Becky and I stopped to watch our three little ones having fun in all of the work. What, to me, looked like one massive pile of leaves became, to them, a fort and a landing pad after jumping and a series of tunnels. When all was said and done, the leaf pile became the setting for an impromptu tea party:

Everyone had an assigned seat. Goose the oldest and Mouse the middle dutifully took charge of busing our table, with drinks and plates and Saltine crackers and water. After nearly 3 hours of raking leaves, my darling daughters gave me some time to unwind. I very much appreciated it! We had enough crackers for all 5 of us. Too bad I didn't step behind the camera and get Becky in a shot. It seems like she makes the fewest appearances in photos on our family blog.

We had a fun outdoor party as the clouds rolled in and the wind picked up ahead of the approaching storm. Once again, I was struck at how imaginative and quick the minds of little kids can be. Here I was totally seeing the leaves in one particular light--as a calming activity albeit a big time-suck--whereas our kids saw fun and creativity lying in wait in that pile.

We talked and joked about whatever was on their minds, and we didn't hurry through the tea party to get onto the next activity or plan. Their laughter and hand-clapping filled the space in our backyard. Their busyness as our waiters was cute. The dialogue between Goose and Mouse was hysterical to key in on--they really were sounding like a grown-up, asking about when such-and-such food would be ready, how many of this did we want, are our customers happy.

It's also informative to see one's day in a different light: not a rush from one thing to the next (in this case, raking and bagging leaves), but as a chance to enjoy the moments and make the best of whatever's at hand. It can be a truly difficult perspective to maintain. I also don't think it's an accident that it is often through the work and minds of children that an adult's outlook can shift, even if just for a little while.

Reason #395 of Why New England Rocks

Foliage, people. The foliage. I don't know if I could ever live in a place that doesn't have fall foliage. It's a part of life around here, something to anticipate each year. The autumns of the past when the leaf-changing was lackluster, early, or practically non-existant have short-changed us. But not this fall. One early morning, I went out for a run and brought along our camera, in the hope of catching some foliage shots as the sun came up.