Christmas Morning

I guess it technically was morning when we first heard our children making their way down the hall, but for all intents and purposes, it was the middle of the night--3:30 AM. Lyle did his very best Papa Bear impersonation and bellowed "What in the world are you doing?" None of them made it downstairs (as far as we know) and they all moped back to their bedrooms.

We heard them stirring again at the more reasonable time of 7:30. They all ran downstairs and then were back upstairs five minutes later to jump onto our bed and tell us what Santa brought. Rose said she got every single thing she wanted--a rarity in life. Cholita was thrilled with her trunk of dress up clothes, Lucy oohed and ahhed over her new camera, and Bruder gushed (as much as a fifteen-year-old boy is capable of gushing) over his new digital recording equipment.

Lyle made our traditional Christmas breakfast--scrambled eggs with cheese and bacon, hot grapefruit with brown sugar and a marichino cherry, and cinnamon rolls.

Cholita had already changed into one of her lovely gowns because she feels it's important to dress for breakfast.

Old Fatty came for a Christmas visit and we gave him a present--a rawhide bone. He took it and sprinted off down the driveway as fast as his old fat legs could carry him. Not even so much as a thank you. We still have no idea where he lives.

After breakfast we moved onto the presents. Rose has been itching for me to open her present ever since she placed it under the Christmas tree. Inside the box was a necklace that Lyle told me she bought at a garage sale during the summer and has kept hidden in various locations ever since. I'm so impressed with her patience.....and her sweetness.

Bruder always makes his presents. Two years ago it was a guitar for his sisters, last year it was a rubber band machine gun, and this year it was a go cart made from our neighbor's discarded trailer.

He added the seat, the front wheels, the shocks, and the steering mechanism.

He said he ran out of time to build brakes, which made me slightly nervous as he pushed his sisters down hills of varying steepness.

But they loved it. Absolutely loved it.

Rose came in flushed with the cold and excitement. "Bruder's present is awesome!"

They wore helmets on the big hills.

At least that's what they told me.

It was a great Christmas.

Silent Night, Holy Night... Mostly

I'm starting with this picture because it's sweet and it

captures the spirit of Christmas Eve.

It was the silent and holy part of our night.

Our other traditions are not quite so silent.

We began our evening with our knock-and-run Secret Santa project

and then moved onto the traditional Christmas Eve big sandwich.

Bruder now rivals his father in the making of a sandwich

almost too large to fit in a human mouth.

After dinner we donned our nativity costumes.

Bruder decreed that all the world should be taxed.

Cholita, our shepherd, looked sore afraid as our angel, Rose,

proclaimed good tidings of great joy.

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, which is Christ the Lord."

It was the most important, most holy part of our Christmas Eve celebration.

And then came the jammies. Everyone needs a sleep tutu.

At least Cholita thinks so.

And then onto another tradition--the Christmas Eve jammie pyramid.

Hey, you have your traditions, we have ours.

The first three looked pretty stable.

And then it was time to add the littlest.

It went well....briefly.

And then it all....

fell.....

apart.

But there were no serious injuries and everyone snuggled up to watch

"It's a Wonderful Life" and we agreed that it is a wonderful life.

It was a perfect silent night....even if it wasn't perfectly silent.

Passport Pictures--Then and Now

I could have also titled this post, Where did my baby go?

Cholita needs a U.S. passport, that was made abundantly clear to us at the Canadian border, but I'll admit that I've been reluctant to get it done, reluctant to file away the last tangible reminder of Cholita's life as Jin Qiu Ju.

The picture for her Chinese passport was taken before we met her, probably when she was moved from the foster home where she'd lived for a few weeks and put back in the orphanage. It breaks my heart. And those eyes. It's the shell-shocked look she sometimes got during our first few weeks together, when she felt overwhelmed and would simply shut down. Enough of the English. Enough of the Caucasian faces. Enough of the changes.

We were in the food court at the mall yesterday and she pointed to a man behind a counter. He was cooking at a wok, speaking Mandarin to his co-worker.

"I think he's Chinese," she said.

"I think you're right," I told her.

"I used to be Chinese," she said.

"You'll always be Chinese."

"Hmmm," she smiled and crinkled her nose. "Kind of."

So it's time for her U.S. passport. She'll always kind of be Chinese. Always kind of be Jin Qiu Ju. But that baby with the scared eyes is not the sassy little girl who sauntered up to the white screen at the Costco photo center. She's her own unique blend--a little China, a lot United States. A little Qiu Ju, a whole lot Cholita.

Manna from Heaven

On Sunday we arrived at church a full fifteen minutes before sacrament meeting and in our sparsely populated parking lot, I counted three silver Honda Odysseys. More specifically, three silver Honda Odysseys just in our row. I don't have an exact number, but I believe our minivan has six identical twins (septuplets?) attending our ward on a regular basis.

Since Bruder helps with the sacrament, he often brings bread. Turns out, this Sunday wasn't Bruder's turn, so he told me he took the bread back to our car. (You know where this is heading).

So, after our meetings were finished, and we were walking out to the parking lot, he said that since our car was locked, he had to leave the bread on the hood. My mind was busy with two troubling thoughts. Number one: My teenager could think of no other option and had to leave a loaf of bread on the hood of our car, and Number two: I didn't lock it.

Before I could formulate words, Bruder stopped in front of an empty parking space.

"Hey," he said, "Where did our car go? It was right here."

"No," I said, pointing. "Our car is over there."

"uh-oh."

So I hope someone in our ward is enjoying our Oroweat. I hope they appreciate the pleasant hint of molasses. I sincerely hope they aren't (gasp) white bread people. And if they are, maybe 100% whole wheat food falling from the sky and landing on their vehicle on a Sabbath morning will cause them to change their ways.

The Cobbler's Child

Two years!

Two years since this little hiney has graced a dental chair.

And two years since her lovely face has been in a panorex.

Her parents (especially the one with the DDS following his name)

should know this is not the recommended schedule.

It's shameful; it just is.

But at least Rose and I like our dentist.

We like him so much we even tell him he looks cool in his glasses.

And this one....

Well, we like her too.

We like her despite her cross bite.

We like her despite her missing permanent lower left second bicuspid.

And we like her despite her tendency to put shoes on the wrong feet.

At least she has shoes,

which is more than you can say for the cobbler's kid.

Yet Another Post on Fashion

I was walking by the couch a few minutes ago and saw this: Cholita sound asleep, her top half completely covered in her blankie, her bottom half reminiscent of the Wicked Witch of the East with her feet sticking out from under Dorothy's house.

The dress, the tights, the knee high socks, the shoes....it's all working for her.

Even when she sleeps, she makes me smile.