Reminiscing

Reese was helping me go through my piles of pajamas today, as I decided which ones to part with, and which to keep. We came across some fancy ones I had let her and Drue play dress up in one day months ago. I had done their makeup, nails, put big curlers in their hair, the whole nine yards.

Then my wise old five year old sighed and said, "I miss the olden days...when I was four."

Merry Christmas!

 

Hitting the Slopes

Who needs a Fountain of Youth? Just take your kids sledding one afternoon and you will feel 20 years younger! (Of course, that feeling only lasts until the next morning, when your sore limbs and shoulders make you feel 20 years older).

I talked David into taking the kids sledding with me on Sunday afternoon. I always envision a Norman Rockwell moment of family togetherness. Why didn't ol' Mr. Rockwell ever include the before pictures of kids and parents hollering, trying to round up 3 sets of snow gear, then tackling your 19 month old to get him shoved into everything while at the same time laying down the law to the other two kids that they WILL go potty NOW before any gear is put on.

All of the preparation chaos was forgotten, however, as the crisp air breezed past our faces on the way down the hill. It. Was. Fun. And whom do you think was the first family member down the hill...to "test" it out and make sure the bumps weren't too dangerous? Yes, the same man I had to beg to come with us in the first place!

Two of my little snow bunnies.

 

Heading back up the hill for another go 'round. Reese lasted about 5 steps, then dropped the rope and ran off.

 

Tate's first real snow adventure. And he is one lucky little guy that his hand-me-down snow pants from Reese just happened to be from the year that Target was out of every other color, and I had to buy her black. Otherwise, his little legs would have been adorned in pastel pink or lilac.

 

The girls mostly went together, then took a few turns each by themselves. It was the ultimate example of Parenthood and how sometimes, you just have to hold your breath and let your kids go without being in control of what happens next. Scary, scary feeling. I just knew Drue would careen crazily into the tree that was 20 yards away from where we were sledding, or that one of them would hit the small bump in the hill the wrong way and fly off into oblivion. I was the only crazy freak mother running down behind them ready to throw myself in the path of the sled, should it decide to keep going 50 more yards into the street.

I took Tate down a couple of times and he had a blast. Then I sent him and David to go purchase another sled. Of course, they came back empty handed as every other family in the Midwest had the same idea. Tate decided the sled wasn't a necessary tool and would sit down on the actual hill, itself, then wonder why he wasn't moving.

I wasn't looking forward to ending their afternoon, but we got lucky on that note. Reese kept saying her feet were getting cold (she just had on rain boots) so I sent her back to the van to warm up with the boys. Drue and I went down one more time together, then as we were heading back up the hill, she said, "Um, I think I am getting tired...from all this walking." So we made a detour back to the van, also, where David had a thermos of hot chocolate, three small cups, some marshmallows, and some Christmas cookies.

Now that, my friends, was a Norman Rockwell moment...

Poor Santa (I mean Tate)

 

Well, our visit looked promising at first. In my head I imagined Drue and Reese being fine but Tate screaming. We got to the mall and there was no line! That was a huge plus because I figured I'd be able to get the kids somewhat adjusted to the big scary bearded man without having to rush through for the waiting people.

Reese hesitantly headed toward him with just a bit of prodding. Drue followed. And Tate couldn't scramble out of his stroller fast enough. He walked right up to Santa and started jabbering gleefully. That is, until Santa moved. I think Tate thought Santa was just a stuffed decoration.

It all went downhill from there. Santa reached out and scooped Tate up and plopped him on his knee. Tate's initial look of wonderment quickly turned to terror. I knew we had to act fast. I scooped Drue up and delivered her to his other knee. Her fingers immediately went into her mouth and the tears started flowing. I hastily positioned Reese on the arm of the chair next to Santa, then ducked out of the way so the gal could start snapping pictures.

One picture got snapped, then Tate slithered down from Santa's gloved grip and started running for me. Please let that one picture be ok I thought. I started to go look at it, then remembered Drue was frozen in place on Santa so I went and rescued her as well. The girls were looking in the general direction of the camera in the first picture, but all you could see of Tate was the back of his head as he was turned away from the camera screaming in Santa's face.

The picture gal cheerfully said, "Let's try again."

WHAT?!?

Voluntarily subject my youngest two children to another terrifying encounter with Kris Kringle?!?

Sure, why not. I at least wanted Tate's face to be in the picture.

This time they suggested that I put Reese on his lap, let Drue stand in front, plop Tate down and r-u-n. By this time a small line was starting to form much to my dismay. I always think the parents waiting will be appalled at me stepping back and watching my children cry. But much to my surprise, they were cheering me on.

"Pull that picture out to show him when he turns 16!", they shouted amusingly.

After I peeled my sweatshirt sleeve out of his little fist, I snatched his blanket from the stroller thinking that might help. As you can clearly see...it didn't. He stood right up and just hollered.

Santa kept saying, "You are making Santa sad," to Drue because she didn't want to sit on his lap. Call me crazy, but I don't believe she cared. Of course, Reese latched on to that train of thought and has been taunting Drue all afternoon, "Drue, you made Santa cry".

What a joyous season indeed....