Silas hasn't gotten much air time lately. So here are some Silas stories for your Friday.

1. He's become quite a little talker. He nods "Yes" with his entire body, points out all the stars and trees in a half mile radius, and sings the "Na-Na Song" with great enthusiasm. He will also pretend to play the piano (sitting anywhere - piano not required) and sing, "E-I-E-I-O!" followed by "TA-DA!" He may still prove me wrong, but I think he's got a little of his dad's taste for performing.

2. He's been very serious about peanut butter lately (you have to love the way toddlers eat). That's hardly newsworthy - what's funny is the way he asks for it. He requests peanut butter by singing the song, "Peanut, peanut butter - and jelly." At Asher's party, I walked away from Silas for a minute during his snack time and came back to find him teary. "What's wrong buddy?" I asked. He pointed to his empty tray and cried, "Peanut, peanut butter - and jelly!" Cracked me up.

3. He's also become very vocal about his preference (at home) for his daddy. "Da-DDDY!" can be heard throughout the house whenever Brian is home. The other day Brian called from work and asked to speak to Asher. Asher, of course, was not at all interested in cooperating with anything that was somebody else's idea, but Silas came trotting across the room as fast as he could, saying, "DaDdy! 'Lo?"

4. As his language and awareness are growing, so is his desire to taunt his brother. Until now my main responsibility in their relationship has been to keep Asher from killing Silas before his second birthday. But my job is expanding, as a few times I've caught Silas snatching up a piece of one of Asher's little projects and declaring, "MINE!" If it doesn't work, he'll pick up something else and try it again. Antagonism, thy name is Brother.

5. As much as Silas loves his Daddy, and as content as he is at home to roam about, looking for what he can devour, when we are in public he gets stressed. If I leave his sight, he thinks he's been TRICKED and all of this playing nonsense was meant to distract him from the fact that I'm leaving him behind. Forever. Seriously, every time I leave his sight in public he cries. Between his tears, and Asher's introverted (read: "Get out of my face") tendencies, I'm almost ready to throw in the towel on social activities for a while. It's becoming more work than fun.

6. Anything he requests is declared in triplicate. "Juice" is "Juicejuicejuice!" And if prompt service is not available, he says, "Uh-oh!" So mid-afternoons are often filled with "Juicejuicejuice! Uh-oh! MINE!" (as he grabs something from his brother while I look for the correct little stopper for his sippee cup). Rinse and repeat.

Happy Friday, all.

birthdays

December 2006 - I remember spending Christmas Eve night rocking a four-day-old tiny Asher and singing, "O Come O Come Emmanuel" and thanking God for giving me a son. I missed the Christmas Eve service that year, obviously, but it was the most spiritual Christmas of my life. I'll never forget it.

December 2007 - It was at Asher's first birthday party that I began to understand I was raising a little introvert. He tried to climb INTO his crib to take a nap while 40 of our friends and relations ate chili in the living room. What I remember most about that December is baking cinnamon rolls in Granny's honor (she died December 1 of that year) while a little toddling Asher baby pulled all of the laundry out of the dryer, one by one.

December 2008 - He knew December was one big party. He knew it was his birthday, and then we had Christmas, and then we went to Nashville. But he thought birthdays were a holiday, and that everyone had the same as him, in December, just like him. So whenever anyone would say, "Merry Christmas!" He would reply, "Happy birthday!" We ate Mickey Mouse cake in the park and it was cold and sunny, and he loved it. But what I remember most about that month is hearing him greet all of his friends and relations with "Happy Birthday!"

December 2009 - I will remember Asher's description of what he wants for his birthday. Actually, it's the only thing he has ever asked for, ever - the only toy he has ever requested as a gift. I should say, it's the first toy he's ever requested. "I want a REAL REAL REAL BIG dump truck with yellow and black on it and it has a scooper in the front and wheels that go around and it scoops up things and digs up dirt like this see!" Followed by his illustration of a scooper in action. It befits his age. And that's what I'll remember about Asher's third birthday party. It was loud and busy, full and fun. It was what three-year-old parties should be.

Happy Birthday, everyone.

Brian and I once went to the best wedding reception - rather than reception food, they had all of the couple's favorite foods. Chocolate chip cookies and spinach dip (separately, of course) are the two that I remember. I thought it was such a fun idea, and have tried to do that with my kids' birthdays. Rather than offering party food, I try to make sure I'm offering my kids' favorite foods to their guests. Which is why tomorrow morning I will be serving pumpkin cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and a chocolate dump truck on top two sixteen of Asher's closest toddler friends.

Speaking of cupcakes, something funny happened yesterday. One of our friends brought cupcakes to celebrate her son's third birthday (I know. We also had another birthday party last week and have two other friends with birthdays later in the month. Something was in the air that spring ...), so the children all enjoyed a little chocolate with their gospel about 10:00 a.m. About 10:40, they all melted down, one by one, in the sanctuary. We each took our turn leading (or dragging) a sugar-crashing kid out of the service. It made me laugh a little. Not much, because I had my turn as well, but a little.

One more funny story - Asher's been stomping around the house saying, "Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum! I'm Santa Claus! Yo Ho HO!" Something has obviously been lost in translation.

Happy Monday.

on Advent

My college roommate once told me a story about walking into her kitchen one morning during a weekend visit to find her mother crying at the table. When she asked her what was wrong, she said she was crying because it was December, and she dread the work involved in preparing for Christmas. My roommate and I laughed at how silly her mother was. What's so hard about Christmas?

I take it back now.

A few weeks ago, we were talking in my study about Advent, the season of preparation. I said I have a hard time getting into the mentality of reflection and preparation, because December just feels like one big party to me. Who wants to sit in the middle of a party and reflect? Someone commented that maybe I was just already balancing the demands of Christmas well enough to not need the reprieve. I knew in the moment they were giving me too much credit - I am definitely not naturally balanced, friends. And last night, had any one of you been sitting in MY kitchen, you could have confirmed just how un-balanced about Christmas I am.

It started with the tree. Our Christmas tree has become a sort of scrapbook of our life together. Anytime we go on a vacation, or something significant changes in our lives (like a baby), we commemorate with an ornament. We have ornaments from our honeymoon, ornaments from our trip to Disney World when we were dating, teacher gifts from when I taught in Nashville, an ornament from our Kansas City friends, etc. I love it.

Friday night Brian brought the decorations down from the attic. But if you'll remember, we bought both a roof and an air conditioning system this year, and more than one repairman has rearranged our attic since last December. Meaning that Brian couldn't find one box of decorations, and it turned out to be the box containing all of our favorites. What he brought down instead were the ornaments Granny made the year she died. I think her intent was for us to have them after she was gone (Granny picked up painting as a hobby as she got older - we have enough Santas and trains and teddy bears to decorate a house three times this size). There were extra "Baby's First Christmas" bears and a black truck (like Brian's) carrying a Christmas tree. Not only were we missing (for the moment - Brian found them the next day) the best memories, but our tree was filling up with ornaments Granny made, knowing she wouldn't be there to give them out.

Ya'll, it was DEPRESSING.

My mood snowballed from there. Next week is so insanely busy I don't even want to tell you what all we'll be doing, because I'll get anxious about it all over again. Let's just put it this way - within the five weeks of the Christmas season, we will have a family wedding, a three-year-old birthday, Christmas, and an annual (last!) trip to Nashville. Also, Brian works in a church, and Lane's old saying of "Holy Crap It's Holy Week" applies directly to Advent as well. Plus, Asher is now in preschool, and I didn't realize the additional layer of activity and responsibility that would add to our lives at Christmas time until, well, now. Add it all together, plus the preparation involved for each, and you can see why last night found me very very nearly crying in my kitchen as I recounted to Brian just how much work December had become.

Brian intervened. He helped me figure out the best way to use my prep time, heavily suggested I find a gracious way to back out of a couple of things, and flat-out told me I was crazy if I did a few others. He also said something along the lines of, "What were you THINKING to overcommit yourself like this?" to which I replied, "December is busy either way. I figure if I'm already in it, I might as well be in it." And then he laughed at me, saying how much I needed to build some quiet into my schedule before I shriveled into mass of cupcakes and ornaments on the living room floor and died.

In short, I need a little more Advent in my Christmas.

He's right. It's not natural to me to stop in the middle of a party and reflect, but there are plenty of things about a life of faith that don't come naturally to any of us. And like so much of life, when I align myself with God's Way, my burden will be light. So long as I continue to do this my way, every December will find me crying in my kitchen.

It's the end of another day. Asher dropped his nap a few weeks ago, and it makes the late afternoon stretch feel so long. Brian was not home tonight, and Asher missed him. I've been distracted, and he's missed me. Silas is growing up, taking more interest in how toys work and in playing with me, and we're all feeling the stretch - our time together is shaping into something different, my time is obligated differently, their time together is being renegotiated.

Time has become the most valuable currency in our home.

"I miss Daddy," Asher said tonight at bedtime. Bedtime is Brian's domain, and a series of obligations has meant that he's been gone a lot the past week. And, again, as I was tucking him into bed, he said, "I don't want to be alone. I want you to stay."

I tuck him in and walk out, thinking of how distracted I was all day, how often I sighed and snapped at Asher, how often I overlooked Silas' curiosity or dismissed his budding language. I wish I'd gotten on the floor with them this afternoon, listened to Silas talk, answered Asher's questions. I wish I hadn't been so hurried, so frustrated. I wish I'd done it better today.

Because already I feel a shift in Asher's heft, and while I can still easily lift him, it is no longer impossible to imagine a day when I won't. And every day Silas sheds a little more of that "baby" look - his legs longer, his gait smoother, than they were last month. The time we have together is short, no matter how long the five o'clock hour feels.

Tomorrow I will play more and listen better. Tomorrow I will relax. Tomorrow I will do it better.

things i've learned in the past 4 days

1. Mikkee makes the world go round.

We somehow managed to pull off having 3 of the 4 of us in an evening wedding, as well as taking both of the kids to the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, and (night time) reception, without ever seriously questioning our sanity or wishing for the ability to melt into the carpet. This was only accomplished because of my dear friend Mikkee. Thank you again Mikkee for being our third set of hands and enduring the occasional wrath of my children.



2. Penicillin is not our friend.

Remember the story about Silas falling on the pavement twice in two days and busting his lip both times? Well, his lip got infected Wednesday afternoon, and earned him a round of Imoxicillin Thursday morning. By Thursday evening he was rashy and irritable. So, yes - both of my children are allergic to penicillin. But praise God for rashes that clue us in and help them avoid anaphylaxis in the future.

3. Don't even try to predict what small children are going to do.

Every single time Mikkee and I expected one child to melt down, he would be great, but his brother would fall apart. Case in point - in the following picture, Silas has had no nap and is smiling like it's his JOB. Asher, who had been perfectly pleasant all day long until fifteen minutes prior, is standing in the hallway screaming, "I DON'T WANT MY PICTURE TAKEN!" It was almost a family portrait. Alas. On the flip side, though, how many pictures does Silas have with both of his parents? Not many.



4. Happy is good.

My sister has been happier in the last year than she has ever been. The weekend was a reflection of that - no trauma, no drama, just ... fun. And beautiful, of course, because she also has amazing taste. It was fun and busy and silly and worshipful and exactly what you wish for the people you love.

As an example, here is a picture of Scooter and her Bryan singing, "You've got to fight for your right to paaarr-ty!"



But wasn't she pretty?



It was a good weekend.

Look at those sweet boys. I wish I was still that amazed by daily life.

You are all waiting with breathless anticipation to hear updates about my daily life, I'm sure. And I'd hate to disappoint you, so -

1. Asher's birthday party this year is going to be in the mall. Since we can't avoid the fact that his birthday is the week of Christmas, and since consumerism and flat-out SILLINESS (that I mostly love, in bite-sized pieces) surround a holy season either way, we might as well milk it and get some cheap entertainment (and free decorations) out of the whole thing. There's a train that rides around Santa's sleigh, and a carousel that stands year round. Add some cupcakes, and voila! Instant party.

2. Mothering a small child is so drastically different from mothering a baby that I can't believe it all falls under the same heading. I'm in completely new territory here. But that's another post for a different time.

3. It's true - my sister is actually, finally, really getting married (in a really for real wedding) this weekend. Let the insanity begin.

4. Little Silas fell face first on the cement on Saturday and seriously busted his lip (my hat's off to OxyClean, by the way, for completely removing blood from both of our shirts the first time around). As if that wasn't bad enough, he fell on the cement AGAIN yesterday and opened it up all over again, and now it just looks bad. B-A-D bad. I'm sure the second time it needed a stitch, but they won't close up older wounds because of the risk of infection, and my doctor's office doesn't do mouths (so I've been told), so I didn't take him to the ER just to be told they couldn't do anything for him. Still. Every time I look at his mouth it makes my lip sting a little. Poor little guy.

5. Now that I've worked out three times in the past two weeks, I can't. stop. eating. It's insane - I'm eating like I'm training for a marathon, when I've barely even broken a sweat. Pasta, bread, marshmallows - good grief. Send salad. Fast.

6. And because you were so patient with my banality, a few Thanksgiving pictures. From me to you.

My sister and her baby. How sweet are they? And can you believe he's already three months old?




Asher and Silas hanging out on the porch swing at Grandma and Grandpa's. Have I told you guys how much Silas LOVES being an only child two mornings a week at his Grandma's house? He is pretty sure that he should have her undivided attention at all times, and spent Thanksgiving morning calling "MEEE-MAAA!" every time she walked out of his sight. So sweet.

I'll probably use one of these pictures for a Christmas card, because goodness knows getting both of my children in a single picture is a feat.





We have a maple tree that turns late and bright, and it's become a tradition to take pictures of the kids playing in the colors every fall. This was my favorite from the set.


Happy Tuesday.