Merry Christmas!

Although it doesn't make me proud, I'm going to tell the true story of this Christmas morning, so that we will remember what having kids is really like (it's not all as cute as the photos I post!), and so that those of you who read this will know that my life isn't all lollipops and twinkle lights.  This Christmas morning started out with the lighting of the Christmas candle, the reading of the Christmas story, a poem and a prayer.  It was lovely, and I really imagined that Christmas morning would be topped off with a jolly opening of presents, a family meal around the table, and a movie from somebody's stocking.  Well, as soon as the stockings were opened there arose shouts of, "But I wanted that!" and "I don't like this candy, I want a different candy!"  And I am sad to say, those shouts were from my very own son.  As you can imagine, gift opening was put on hold, a very angry four-year-old was sent to his room, and everyone heaved a big sigh.  This idea of a "perfect" Christmas morning is, apparently, not attainable until our children learn a very important lesson about gratefulness, thankfulness, graciousness, and humility.

So we very literally pushed the pause button on gifts, I attended to the pancakes, and Derek went downstairs and had a chat with Luke.  Seamus was just wandering around in his new hat, eating a caramel, totally oblivious to the challenges that accompany the rather arduous task of maturing gracefully.  Eventually Luke decided he was ready to be gracious, maybe if he didn't like the caramels he could still say thank-you and then give them to someone who appreciated them (don't worry, he discovered he liked them; we are in a phase where anything "new" or "different" is automatically labeled "bad"), he even began to understand that the What of the gift is not as important as the Why...I hope.

And so Luke decided he wanted to hand out the presents to his family, Seamus decided that collecting the paper and putting it in a box was more fun than opening presents, and eventually (much later than planned, and after much hungry crying from Seamus) we ate pancakes.  Seamus ate five.

I cannot know that my son learned exactly what I hoped to teach him.  But all we can do is try to explain, and live like we believe it.  Giving is wonderful, receiving is delightful, and giving and receiving graciously is truly a skill worth the effort of learning (and teaching). 

One of the lessons I have been struggling with lately is that Luke is his own person, very separate from me.  For the longest time he was part of me, then for a while he was an adorable accessory, now he is most certainly his own person - developing thoughts and ideas with no input from me.  I would have thought this would be obvious, but after so many years of, "Say buh-bye! Say Gramma! Go potty?" it's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that this little person will decide if he needs to go potty on his own.  He will call out what he's thinking during the church service when the moderator asks what she thought was a rhetorical question.  He will wear nothing but gitch around the house all day and ask for a knife to cut his pancakes at breakfast.  He will be himself, and I can only hope now that we will love each other enough that he will continue to want to be like me...and I can set a good example.

Merry Christmas!  May your Christmas enlighten your family relationships, as ours is doing, and promises to continue to do.

Seamus bo Beamus

Seamus has reached several milestones in the last few weeks:

One day I gave him a banana to munch on (after he asked for a " 'nana") and when he was through he marched through the kitchen, opened the cabinet under the sink, and deposited his banana peel in the compost bucket!  Our little green guy.

Another day I was holding Seamus and walking around, trying to soothe him (we've been sick a lot lately) and when we passed the fridge Seamus pointed at the photos and said, "Sa!" which, of course, translates to Sarah, whose image was before us.  I chose to believe it was a coincidence until, a moment later, he pointed at and named, "Gammy", "Daddy", and "'Mark" (John-Mark - who we have only seen twice in Seamus's lifetime!).  This kid has a memory, and a darn fine one.  Since then he has named Grampa (on the ipad), Kelvin (the pastor at our church), cousins Cameryn, Roehn and Cole, Linus, and most recently "Bubber" (brother) has finally become "Kook" (aka Luke).

Most consequential of all, my baby Seamus climbed out of his crib for the first time yesterday morning.  I heard the boys chattering, so I walked downstairs to be met by two little boys coming out of their bedroom!  I was stunned!  I asked Luke (who has alluded to the fact that he's "got the power" to get Seamus out of his crib if he needs to), if he happened to have anything to do with Seamus's unexpected freedom and he replied, "No.  I was just sleepin' wiff my eyes closed and as far as I knew Seamus was in his crib and then suddenly - poof! I opened my eyes wide and there he was outside of his crib!"  I was hoping Seamus would forget his new skill, but that afternoon when I went to get him up from his nap he was, yet again, liberated.  There he sat in the clean laundry basket, smiling away, and to my, "What is this?!" he replied, "Out, Mommy!  Owwwwt."

Oh sigh.  My baby's out.

Luke's First Christmas Concert

Despite his refusal to participate in the Christmas concert, at the very last moment (while the other children were walking past him ringing their bells), Luke grabbed some bells and walked up on stage in his Pink Floyd t-shirt with the rest of his sweater-vested, frilly skirted preschool class.  He rang the bells (a little), and he did the motions to the songs (when everyone squatted and for him to continue standing would have drawn too much attention to his non-participation), and at the end he received a little gift from his teachers and let me take his photograph.  Mostly he watched the other children in a bemused sort of way that seemed to be saying, "I am participating in this culturally approved holiday rubbish as an experiment to discover why children smilingly insist on humiliating themselves in front of their parents," and occassionally giggled.  I may never know why he didn't want to participate (all he would say was that he wanted to sit with me and Derek), but I will never stop wondering what was going through his head as he stood there with his lips sewn shut, watching the other children recite poems and sing Christmas songs.  I can tell you what was going through my head:  Why do we make our children do this nonsense?  Isn't it all a tad ridiculous?  Does it have potential to damage my son, or is it all in good fun?  Who is having fun?  Is anyone having fun?  What is it they are enjoying about this? And why am I such a party-pooper? Let's eat the cookies, already.

Perhaps Luke was channeling my own thoughts...

Slow Saturday Mornings

Beans beans, the magical fruit

I have had a pretty rough couple of days.  Luke is into mischief and my tolerance level is very low...which is a recipe for disaster.  If you can believe it, this little bean escapade was actually intentional!  Yesterday and today I planned fun activities for us all to do together, that didn't include getting dressed, leaving the house, baking something, or anything having to do with christmas preparations.  It was just what we needed.  I need to remember that messes are sometimes fun, that playing is more important than checking things off the to-do list, and that most of the time Luke is driving me crazy, he's not trying to drive me crazy - he's just trying to have a good time...and I need to get in the spirit and stop being such an old fuddy duddy (thank-you Doris Day).  I'd show you what we did yesterday only we decided to give them as Christmas gifts, so it's going to be a surprise! 

Grandpa Says

Stay in the bed!  He has said it for as long as I can remember, "Good night.  I love you.  Stay in the bed."  And I have adopted it for my boys.

The other night I put the boys to bed; kissed, sung to, tucked in, and one last, "I love you, stay in the bed!"
I could still hear them chattering to one another, while I went about my evening business.  I went down once and knocked on the door and said, "Bedtime! Stay in the bed!"  And Luke said through the wall, "Yes, Mom", which at the time seemed sweet and encouraging.  Still I heard them talking and giggling, and since there was no screaming, I left it, until I looked at the clock and a whole hour had gone by and I could still hear them!  I went back down and noticed a light streaming out from under the door.  Unsure what I would find when I opened the door, I tentatively poked my head around and saw one little boy in jammies and one big boy totally naked sitting in the crib just smiling away.  Eyebrows raised I didn't need to speak and Luke responded, "We were playin' in Seamus's crib and I laughed so hard I wet the bed!"

We have now revised the old go-to phrase to, "Stay in your OWN bed".