Holly & Jolly (belated)

 Everything I think to say about Christmas feels like only part of the story. It was great. Really, really great. It was hard. Really, really hard. But it was great.

Let's dwell on the great bits for now (it is Christmas, after all)...

We decked the halls.

My favorite (new this year) Christmas decor of all time – made it myself!

Yes, that is the Abominable Snowman.
Nora has since dreamed up the "Pink Abobidable," who is funny instead
of vicious and leaves rabbit tracks in our backyard.

We

We made gingerbread houses in the happy company of great friends who I am hoping got better pictures of our kids together in action(?).

 

We drank hot chocolate. LOTS of hot chocolate. From my Grandma's old Santa mugs, which makes said hot chocolate one hundred times tastier.

This little girl LOVES hot chocolate. So much so, that even though she does not like the cold weather at all, she will endure frigid wind and wet toes if it means she gets hot chocolate at the end. She confirms such plans BEFORE even agreeing to put her coat on to head outside. Not "hot chocolate milk," no Nora.

We played in the snow.

Blurry, yes, but possibly one of my favorite pictures of my boy.

Though the hot chocolate will get Nora outside, it will not get her in the snow. It usually takes more time to get her dressed in snowsuit, boots and mittens than it does for her to hightail it back inside for her sweet reward.We read a story a day from Thanksgiving to Christmas Eve (possibly my very favorite tradition of all). 

We played with our family (who should move closer ASAP). A happy last-minute addition to our Christmas-at-home plans.

Though I don't often speak for the mister in ye ol' blog, I will say this: Burt boy #3 LOVED having his family around. So did his wife and kids.

We met the newest Burt: not-so-little miss Lucy (AKA the world's best baby...pretty sure I never heard her cry).

I think they told him to "Eat these cookies" at least three times. Also, note the hand-drawn elf by my sweet boy who is adamant he will grow up to be an artist.

We wrote letters to Santa.

And those must have been the best cookies and carrots ever, because with two extra kiddos in the house, our Christmas morning was epic.

I fear 2012 will be a let-down.We got new PJs (and a Rudolph nose).

Dressed up.

He was over the moon about the candy cane tie and got mad at me when I wouldn't let him wear  it to church once Christmas was over.

Catching Andy smiling in a picture is like finding Sasquatch. Though it may look otherwise, he was just as holly and jolly as the rest of us.

Got the long-coveted (and oft avoided) pillow pets.

And, as predicted, have only played with them once since then. If sitting on them to watch a movie can be called "playing".

Speaking of Made for TV items under our tree, Porter also got the Fushigi Ball, courtesy of Uncle Chris. More on that to come in its own post. Suffice it say, at the top of the package when we opened it was a large "This product is  not intended for use by children under the age of 12". Fortunately, rules were made to be broken.

And we played with our new toys, of course.

And there you have it: the Burt's Christmas unwrapped.

Always, a Smile

I have no words to explain the magic that is my girl. She is three today, and our birthday girl is a whirlwind of humor and determination and joy that leaves me giddy to know she's mine. How did this little pixie of a girl come from Andy and I?

She got the short end of the stick when it comes to grace and rhythm, and most recently dented the corner of our living room wall with her forehead, thanks to a dead sprint with an ill-timed backwards glance over her shoulder to see if her big brother would soon catch up. But she more than makes up for the clumsy with her wit and charm and overall excitement for life.

She doesn't stop talking, always knows exactly what she'd like to do next, and loves to tell knock-knock jokes. Her days generally begin with a breathless, "I was calling for you—what are we doing today?" and she spends the rest of her time happily doing whatever her big brother is doing, but with princesses instead of race cars in tow.

This one adores her big brother.

Fortunately, the feeling is mutual, and the two play together happily most of the time – at least until she doesn't get her way, at which point, her nonsensical criticism sends Porter running to tell me that Nora has called him a "meanie-ac" or a "baddy". She, of course, will defend herself by explaining that those are not, technically, "bad woyrds."

She does have quite the temper if you tell her no or refuse to do something exactly as she envisioned it or, heaven forbid, make her wear a "boy color," but it would be much harder to take if her retorts weren't so darn funny. My favorites: "Then I'm not gonna be yow fwiend anymo"and "You big meanie guy".

And if she senses she does not have your full attention, she will stand in the middle of the room and shout "Stop going evwy-ware!", "Stop doing evwy-thing!" or "Your going all over the pwace!" She will also climb into your lap, snuggle up under your chin and say "I need you" in a quiet, plaintive tone that stops time and all to-do's.

This little girl has one aim: endless fun. And she is so full of joy that she makes a rock seem like the best toy in the world. Although she loves her "pwincesses" with every bit of her heart, she will usually set them aside if she can get ahold of Andy's chapstick or an iPod or a parent willing to read her a book.

However, if you give this girl a story, she's going to ask you for two more. And if you concede to that, she'll then respond with "How 'bout five, because Poy-da (Porter) is five?"

She may not have rhythm, but she adores music, will jump around with reckless abandon to anything with a solid beat and has recently discovered "rockin' earmuffs," which leave her giggling and humming all at once to the music in her head.

She is creative and funny and happy, loves to play dress-up, paint her toenails and pretend to be the mommy, and has most recently started to respond, "But I am all-weady bee-yooo-tiful," when I tell her it is time to do her hair.

She loves to sing almost as much as she loves to talk. But would much rather make up her own words to well-known tunes than even begin to sing a "real" song unless she knows every single word.

This one does not like to do things unless she can do them well. Her idea of coloring is to tell her willing servant what shade of pink or purple to use on each part of the picture she selects, and though I am certain she mutters "star light, star bright, first star I see tonight" in her sleep, will ask you to tell her how to make a wish every time she sees a star, only repeating the next  three words after you have carefully coached her on the line preceding it.

She loves to make wishes and will ask for everything from new ruby slippers to a new mirror for our car (Andy ran into a garbage can after I told him he didn't have clearance for an illegal right-hand turn, resulting in a wobbly side mirror that now has a ring of electrical tape holding it tight). In fact, given her fancy-free nature, I am generally surprised at how practical her wishes are and find it funny that, above all else, she wanted a "new Sleeping Bee-uty awrm" from Santa this year after the poor "pink pwincess" fell victim to impatience and an ill-fitting dress. Note: She did not want a new Sleeping Beauty doll—just the arm—even though I have explained that a new arm may not fit the old Sleeping Beauty.

For all these reasons and so many more, my heart melts every time she says "Mommy, I want you," which means she would like a hug. And I most often find myself exasperated and awe-struck all at once, trying to stifle laughter or the urge to hug her tight as I send her to timeout.

So grateful this three-year-old is mine.