Oh, those internet nerds.  Always with the creativity.

So these aren’t on Instagram, but they are over a month “late” on the blog world when everyone has totally forgotten that the Easter Bunny hopped down the bunny trail.

We did our usual trek down South to my future sister-in-law’s farm.  Hard to believe that the little lambs we saw last year are now grown sheep!

Harrison was much more interested in the old metal slide tucked behind the chicken coops.  It’s blurry, but this might be my favorite shot of Harry & Doug.

A rare picture of the three of us.

Where we’re all looking at the camera.

sort of.

Being your momma is my greatest joy, my greatest accomplishment, my greatest love in life.

At night when I kneel by your bed & you thank God for playing outside & yellow slides & tow trucks & oatmeal, my heart beats that I am so, so thankful for you.

Love always,
Momma

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommas out there. May your day be filled with happiness & may there be pretty cake with buttercream roses on it.

He is risen.

He is risen indeed.

Harrison opens the bedroom door & cracks a smile, finding me in the dark because it’s been ten hours since I settled in when the daylight was enough.  I’ve been working eight hours, ten hours, & it’s looking like I will hit twelve before my presentation is complete with an 8pm deadline.

I wonder if Doug is disappointed that I have no Valentine for him.  I wonder if he knows that like every year, I had the best of intentions but they slipped right through my fingers.  That I adore the pink roses he brought me on Sunday & I regret that I have nothing to give him in return.   I wonder if he minds that I’ll wear yoga pants to dinner, where I’ll serve up a frozen lasagna with an apologetic smile.

At least there will be wine.

Because love doesn’t know dates & red heart candy, as delicious as it is.  Love knows & gives with the hard days & sweatpants & the pulled up half-smile that says, “I’m sorry, but this is the best I can do right now.”  Love relaxes into that unpredictable life rhythm & messy hair by candlelight becomes romance.

I love you, Douglas.  Thank you for loving me.

 I look to 2012 & what I wish to accomplish, all I see is a desire to grow.  Personally, by selling our house & buying a new home where we can expand our family.  Creating a super-fun new series for everyone to laugh & be themselves.  Developing a new skill, maybe taking structured sewing lessons.  I’d like to take where I am now in life, push against the walls until my arms are shaking & my voice feels tired, but everything around me expands.

When I try to pin one word to 2012, I am suprised that my initial reaction is not “grow,” but HOW I wish to grow.  How I wish to expand & breathe deeply & where to exhale my heart.

PRETTY.

A surprising word to shape a year around, no?

I look to delight in life in 2012.  To soak in new books & pretty words, to paint walls & furniture.  To iron pretty shirts & wear red lipstick & take care of myself both inside & out.  For the home to be clean, but full of laughter & sunshine & Matchbox cars strewn across the floor.  To live the abundant life & a beautiful life, to feel worth of feeling pretty all around me.

I think “pretty” can be bone-deep joy & thankfulness.

The pretty found in the muck & trenches of life.  Seeking God, but feeding souls by passing bread rather than Bible quotes.  To let faith become a life-altering beat in my heart to where prayer is not whispered on knees, but servitude with dirty hands that scrub away years of doubting myself.

I’d like to put my heart back on my sleeve.

I’d like to share all of those things on here.

Do you have a word for the year?  Something to strive toward? 

So they count it different ways.  Numbers on the scale, resolutions written in ink, goals scratched in journals, or one word.

I have been silent this week because I do not know how to begin 2012.  How do I begin with one word when I want to strive for so many words?  How do I narrow that down?  How do I resolve to get healthy before growing our family again without sounding cliche, all while waiting with anxious breath for one person to fall in love with our home?

The past year I fell in love with motherhood & battled demons & changed jobs & took on my first hard-core paid writing gig.  We balanced on a fence throughout most of the year, waiting for chips to fall & our lives to finally settle.  Some of them have, some of them haven’t, & I’ve found my voice oddly silent during these times.  Maybe that’s maturity & wisdom that being 28 in 2011 brought me & will continue teaching as I turn 29 in 2012.  Maybe it’s that little piece of me that keeps changing & growing & spinning bigger to where it’s not such a little piece anymore…it’s me.

All of me.

 The silly. The mother & wife. The spiritual. The career woman & homemaker. The blasphemous. The girl that struggles with life & contentedness & body image, who loves pretty pictures & yellow roses & yes, a good set of shapewear.

p.s. i have scribbled down words & resolutions & goals.  i’ll be sharing soon.

11:45pm on Christmas Eve, putting in the 417th screw & an empty whisky glass beside me.

As I said a wee bit ago, we do Santa in our home.

When I wrote that little manifesto, I held so much anticipation in my heart for the coming Christmas Eve.

That night, we sang by candlelight in church & ate spaghetti with family around the dining room table.  Later than normal, Doug & I tucked a very sleepy Harrison into bed with Christmas jammies & The Polar Express.  After changing into comfy clothes & pouring whisky & gingers, we sat down on the living room rug with Santa’s presents.  We began with the most challenging piece, Harrison’s play kitchen.  Over the next two hours, Doug & I laughed & talked about the past year.  How much Harrison has grown, how he will love his new toys, how this season has been so amazing with his ability to participate.  With Christmas carols playing in the background, I really got it.

Watching the presents come together, presents I bought for my little boy, carefully selecting what I thought he might like.  I realized that these twelve hours between bedtime & Christmas morning were a parent’s best part of the year.  The sacrifice & joy & complete infatuation with my child, all coming together on one day.  When we laid down a little past midnight, I felt more excitement as a parent than as a child on Christmas, simply imagining his reaction at the gifts by the tree.

& Harrison’s smile on Christmas Day did not disappoint.

p.s. there are 360 days until harry is three at christmas & i cannot freakin’ wait.

ANYWAY.

Christmas was lovely & quiet this year.  We made Christmas cookies on December 24th to leave out for the fat man & Harry may have snuck one two okay, three.

In his defense, they were delicious.  That night, we dressed to impress for the Christmas Eve candlelight service, which is always my favorite part of Christmas.  Being in our home church where we married & now with a small boy on my hip, I raised my candle during the final chorus of “Silent Night.”  It is always the little things that get me right in my heart at the holidays.

(more on Christmas Eve & playing Santa later)

I am so bummed that this shot is out of focus because this was Harrison all Christmas morning.  Pure joy.  I think for this particular shot, he had just lost his toddler marbles over the fact that Santa! Left! Dum-Dums! in his stocking.

Here was Harry’s haul.  Tip:  TJ Maxx sells Melissa & Doug for $5.00 per puzzle.

Dear Lord, the bed-head playing with toys.

“Thanks for the presents, Daddy!”
(it’s doug without a hat!  like catching a zebra in the wild!)

oh, Santa.  You’re too sweet to me.  (it was a bluebird charm)

My favorite present with a big shiny bow on his cheek.  Once presents were opened, we sat down to a big breakfast of bacon & biscuits & grits.  Harrison took a long nap while Doug & I watched the latest Harry Potter.  It was a sweet, relaxing day.

How was your Christmas?  I have been so MIA since Christmas, so I would love to hear what you got or what the favorite moment was or if you posted about the holidays, leave a link so we can all catch up.  

It is magic & make-believe & hope, all the things we wish to instill in our child.  Wide-eyes at twinkling lights & soft stockings hung on the mantle & cookies on a plate.  Santa is purity of heart, goodness prevailing.  The belief in Santa is the same as the innocence that Superman can fly, that mermaids swim in the ocean, & that Momma’s kiss takes away a boo-boo.

It is not deception, but child-like faith.

It is not a story of greed & selfishness, but rather a man symbolic of grace & mercy.

In our home, Santa does not give gifts for being “good.”

Santa is not a manipulation.  Santa is grace.

Pure grace in the form of gifts under the tree as an act of love & sacrifice.  Gifts that we may not deserve, may not earn, may struggle with accepting, but gifts are there as a promise every Christmas morning.  Steadfast & loyal, Santa brings a grace that surpasses understanding & with it, love to fill hearts & souls & bring us closer.

It sounds similar to another story of Christmas, no?

& when it comes time that our children question a man squeezing down a chimney & a red-nosed reindeer, we will tell them that Santa is grace & that as long as they believe in that, gifts will be bestowed.  Just like Someone Else.

So yes, Harrison.  There is a Santa Claus.

We just have one in our house.  I guess it was a little lonely.

Last week, my dad brought Harrison his own tiny tree.

I took Harrison to Target & gave him free (supervised, of course) reign in the ornament department.  He chose colored lights & green beads & little jingle bells & a pink car.  He also picked up the spray of blue ovals that I had no idea what to do with until I needed a “star.”

I think my kid is a better decorator than I could ever dream of.

My contribution was a little cardinal for North Carolina.  It’s our state bird & stuff.

Do you have more than one tree?  Anything themed?  Do the kiddos get to decorate their own?