Getting in to Giving

Warren's class is doing a Secret Santa gift exchange all week. Today he told me he gave the little girl he has "broken rocks--the shiny kind that have some crystal in them." Hmm. I was a little worried. But then he really got excited when I suggested he make a coloring book. He chose 24 pictures and printed them, punched them and tied them into a coloring book. He had me do the cover writing so she wouldn't recognize his writing; I had to explain that 2nd grade boy handwriting his pretty hard to disguies, even if you try to write "really ugly" as he suggested. Still, he couldn't hold back when he got into it and dres some jewels and a princess after coloring the lettering in. After he drew the princess--which Abigail had been BEGGING to let her draw--he asked her, "I drew a princess dress, and I'm not sure if it looks bad. Abigail, does it look good?" "Yeah--actually, no" replied Abigail. Since I had just given a lesson about gifts from the heart, I chided, "Abigail, is that a gift from the heart to say that?" To which, Warren responded enthusiastically, "No mom, it's good Abigail told me the truth. I really wanted to know if it looked good or bad."
Warren also made a purse with some small paper trinkets, and on the back cover of the coloring book, he taped a pocket, decorated it with fun foam and put in a coupon redeemable for "one paper airplane made by [him.]" He is so excited to give his gifts.

2010 Thanksgiving Parade

Madeleine didn't get into the festivities so much.

LOVE love LOVE this picture of Avery.

Strung out along the parade "route."

Yes, Warren carried the "house" to symbolize he was thankful for his house.

My Abigail

Tonight for family night we made cards/tags/ornaments; whatever you could do with self-adhesive foam and paper. Abigail kept saying, "Tonight is so fun, isn't it?" and "I like you mom." From the child who has taken to saying "Whatever" whenever she gets frustrated with me or the situation, this is music to my ears. It reminded me how much Abigail thrives on creativity.
A few weeks ago, she made this HO HO HO banner all by herself. She chose the paper, cut it, punched it, strung it, did the writing. She even took it outside for a photo shoot. She set it up just like she'd seen me do in my Etsy shop. Then when she was done with this one, she stamped 4 of her own HO HO HO banners, modeled after mine. She proudly gave them to her friends and our neighbor. I have got to go over and get a picture of it hanging in his house. It is pure Christmas lovin'.

Every year at school, there is a Thanksgiving feast, and this year Andy carved the turkey. This is a big event, and everybody watches you and your skill--or lack thereof. It was getting a little long, so I asked the kindergarten/preschool class if they could sing "Dry Bones" as Andy carved, since he had just told them about the bones. They agreed to do it and Abigail immediately sprang into action, coming up front and facing her class to lead them in song. She loves to lead and organize.

Also every Thanksgiving is our very small and very homegrown children's parade. This year was so busy I almost skipped it, but I knew it meant a lot to Abigail, so we did it. She made her own "float" to pull. All I did was tape the banner on the side. She also chose her outfit, an old dress of my sister's that we keep in the dress-up bin. Abigail just loves it.

Why We Have Family Meals

It's Sunday and we are all in the backyard, eating mac and cheese (thank you Joyce Packard for teaching me how to make the real stuff!), swinging, talking and climbing on the fort. (My kids also tell me there is a worm garden somewhere, but I haven't seen it yet.) I am lying on the trampoline, silently laughing at Warren's latest question:

"Why is a bowl of macaroni and cheese the opposite of a swimming pool?"

Really?! What is going on in there? He explained, a bowl of mac and cheese is hot at the bottom and cold at top, but a swimming pool has it's hottest water at the top and the coldest at the bottom. (To her credit, just moments before, Abigail informed us to "Always take from the top, and not the bottom." I thought she meant like in the grocery store--don't take the cabbage from the bottom of the pile. But she meant mac and cheese.)

On Monday we were eating breakfast together and Warren asked, "Is that company that McKane's brother owns going to put the Christmas video on YouTube this year?" (For the past 2 years Scrapbook.com has made a Christmas video featuring employees kids answering Christmas questions. Our kids still think they are supposed to give the "right" answers, not realizing how funny the "wrong" ones are. Like the first year, the cameraman sat W down and said, "We're going to ask you some questions," and W queried, "Are the math problems?" Last years video is the one at the top of the page) Anyway, back to story. Andy replied, "No, they're going a different direction this year." Warren looked a little sad and Abigail protested, "But I know better this year!"

Shorts

from Warren as I lay in bed next to him after reading "Geronimo" together:

"The only hard part about staying awake is my eyes; they just want to shut. My body is full of energy but my eyes can't stay open."

from a stranger as he held the door for Avery:

"She is a really beautiful child."

I used to worry about Avery because she looked so much like me.

A sweet moment with Abigail:

We went to Maricopa Stake's Evening of Excellence to hear some music I helped notate and ended up staying. We sat side by side for an hour. I had my arm around her. After a few minutes, she freed her arm from my side and stuck it behind my back. It didn't even reach all the way across. I can still feel the warmth of her small hand.

Madeleine is talking so much, but her singing is even better. She sings along with the kids' LPM CD's, and not just on the normal words--she does the sol-sol-do and mi-re-do parts. She loves to sing. She is fearless. I took her on the climber at the Children's Museum of Phoenix and she went all over, gaining confidence to go further each time, despite seeing the ground 15 -20 feet below, or being up against a wall of clear glass.

This reminds me of family night on Monday. I blindfolded each of the kids one at a time--in the dark, outside--and walked them at least 100 feet from our house. In Warren's case, across the street by a cactus-filled yard, then asked them to find their way home. I asked each if they wanted help and offered directions. As I watched them stumble in the dark, hands outstretched, W with a goofy grin and Abigail with tiny nervous steps, I was suddenly overwhelmed with humility for the trust these children place in me. Not one of them gave up or got angry with me; they trusted every direction I gave them, even when they didn't understand. I wondered if I was worthy of that pure trust.

Why am I blogging again? I can't let these moments be forgotten.