My Frederick

There is a wonderful children's book called Frederick by Leo Lionni. (1967). At the story's beginning, a young family of field mice scurries around, making all the necessary preparations for the upcoming winter - collecting berries, gathering wheat, finding a cozy hideaway in the stones. Everyone works hard - except for Frederick. Disdainfully, the others question him, "Why don't you work?" He replies - "I am working." Frederick works at gathering the warmth of the sun's rays; the gorgeous colors of the meadow; and words. Finally, it is the dead of winter. The mice have depleted most of their food. They turn to Frederick in their misery, and ask him to share his supplies. Under Frederick's guidance, the mice revel in the warmth of the sun, of the colors that are painted in their memories, of the beautiful words Frederick has composed into a poem. Always humble, Frederick accepts their love and praise, knowing that his work has earned his keep among the mice.

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In August, just before school started, I came across a wonderful idea in Family Fun magazine: a summer memory jar. In the hot and humid days that ended our summer, it was hard to imagine that we'd soon be facing the bitter cold of January, the lonely days of February, and the relentless hold that March often has on winter - yet I knew the summer memory jar would make it more bearable. And so we began. Each of us wrote down (or drew pictures of) our most favorite summer memories, with enough detail to bring us back to those specific moments in time. We added more memories to the jar over several days until it was full, then tucked it away on a side table in the dining room, to be brought out again when the days were bitter cold...

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....Then, just a few days ago, after Aidan chose Frederick as his going to bed book, the lightbulb suddenly shined bright over his clever mind. "Oh Mom!" he exclaimed. "We are just like Frederick! We collected all those summer memories and now we can read them and remember when it was warm!!"

Yes, Aidan, we are just like Frederick - more accurately, you are just like Frederick. You are my collector of sunshine, of colors, of words - you are my poet. And you've certainly earned your keep.

Heads or...

Monticello?

Happy New Year! There is something delicious about starting a new year. January offers new opportunities, renewed optimism for the future, a commitment to change, a willingness to tackle projects with gusto,(hypothetically, at least) and, a fresh perspective.

And it's the perspective part that I loved today. I'm always humbled by the creativity of children, the unique outlook they have on life. I love how they think. This morning, I overheard Aidan and Leo in their room, clearly playing some kind of game. I kept hearing Aidan say to Leo, "Do you want to be Monticello?" Leo would answer yes or no. Aidan would ask again. Leo would respond again. What am I missing? I wondered. How are they "Being" Monticello? (It was a quiet game, for sure, but I just couldn't picture them standing like Doric columns...) Finally, I stuck my head in and asked what they were doing.

"We're playing Heads or Monticello. I flip the coin, and it either lands on Heads, or it lands on Monticello. We keep track of who is the winner," answered Aidan.

Well, of course. I don't know if it's our proximity to The University or our proximity to Monticello Tourguide Grandma, but either way, I was more than a little surprised - and delighted - by this fresh perspective.

A Handmade's Tale

The most meaningful gifts I've ever received are those that are handmade. A lifesize doll, pewter ornaments, a wooden music box, my quilt, hand-knit scarves, framed artwork, photographs, and poetry are just some of the cherished homemade gifts I've received - and loved - over the years. Thinking about ways to make Christmas more meaningful this year, I decided that our gift theme would be "Made from the heart."

In October, I gathered all the necessary supplies for making glorious gifts: wooden boxes, canvases, picture frames, paints, photos, mod-podge, and more. I spent several afternoons working with each boy to create beautiful gifts for each other. Leo and Aidan each made small trinket boxes for each other, carefully painting, then decorating the outside of each box. Aidan wrote sweet notes to Leo to put in his box, and I scribed a list of "wonderful things about Aidan" for Leo to put in the box he was making for Aidan. The older boys painted picture frames for Pax, then created pictures to go in the frames. I finished all of the frames and boxes with a protective coating. The end result was like lots of kid projects: the whole was greater than the sum of its parts.

Another afternoon, the boys created gorgeous and original notecards for extended family and friends with cardstock, liquid starch, acrylic paint, and a water bath. Each notecard was beautiful in its design, the colors either vibrant and bright or light pastels. After they had dried and I pressed them flat, I divided them into piles of four and added the envelopes to go with them. There was not a single one among them that was unattractive - each was unique and special.

In November, I took the boys to the Glass Palette to create fused glass art for my parents and for Jeff. Working together, they made two of the most gorgeous abstract art ornaments you've ever seen - not to mention, the experience itself was so much fun!

Jeff helped Aidan create a beautiful Christmas plate for me - Aidan had seen how upset I was after two (!!) of my beloved Christmas plates (decorations, not used for food) got broken. He set out to re-create the Christmas tree surrounded by holly, and the result is, dare I say? -- better than the Spode original. (though I still regret that the Spode was shattered). Leo made the sweetest mug for me, adorned with a colorful rainbow, a heart, his name carefully printed, and two of his famously cute people drawn on it.

Pax helped with the fused glass art (and the projects for me as well) in the way he knows best - staying out of the way - but even he got to make a gift for his older brothers. He chose his favorite picture of all three boys and carefully mounted it to a piece of cardstock. Then, he painstakingly handprinted two sides of the picture with his acrylic painted hands and asked me to write "Best Brothers Ever - Hands Down!" below the photograph. The framed masterpiece was fantastic.

Meanwhile, Jeff and I were also hard at work on our own homemade gifts. (Oddly, we chose not to do homemade gifts for each other this year, although we've frequently done them in the past. But we certainly enjoyed all the time we spent working on and collaborating with each other on the projects!) Jeff had found these Nature Collages in a catalog, and we instantly knew how much the boys would love them. Instead of purchasing them, Jeff crafted them himself, and they turned out beautifully. For my own part, I made each boy a cute and cozy fleece hat, complete with funky prints and pom poms.

The project I am most proud of, however, is the cookbook-storybook I created, with Jeff's help, titled Betty Eater's The Joy of the Table. Quite simply, it is a collection of recipes, each of which includes a rich story behind it. There's the "Four Generation Banana Bread," the "Rattlesnake Pasta," and the "How I Met Your Father Soup." In addition to writing, rewriting, editing, and finalizing each story, I also cooked or baked each recipe in the book and carefully photographed each dish. I have a whole new appreciation for food photographers - it was hard work getting the food to look good! The end result is something I hope will be cherished and enjoyed by the recipients of the book; I certainly enjoyed the time I spent making the gift. (How wonderful, too, to discover a gift under the tree quite coincidentally for "Betty Eater" - a handmade apron from my mother!)

The mod-podge has left residue on our kitchen counters; the acrylic paint stained a few shirt sleeves (and Pax's pajamas!); there were some minor injuries in the sewing and hammering; but the cost of the gifts we gave? Priceless.

"If as Herod, we fill our lives with things, and again with things; if we consider ourselves so unimportant that we must fill every moment of our lives with action, when will we have time to make the long slow journey across the desert as did the Magi? Or sit and watch the stars as did the shepherds? Or brood over the coming of the Child as did Mary? For each one of us there is a desert to travel, a star to discover and a being within ourselves to bring to life."

(Source Unknown)

Joy's Shadow

This year, Christmas would be different. Less stress, more merry, more meaningful-ness in everything that we do, less do-ing on my part, more memorable stuff, less stuff stuff...

It was so good. It was among my most favorite Christmases for sure. Yet every year, despite all the happiness, despite all the sheer gratitude I feel, there is always some sadness - always. Desperately, I seek to find the reason behind this shadow of sorrow that hovers around me in such a way that even amidst my joy, I feel the Shadow's weight.

The day after Christmas, I needed to clear my head out because my Shadow was becoming heavier than I was willing to let her be. I headed outside, by myself, for a walk around the block. Bundled tightly against the frigid chill and stepping carefully over the leftover slicks of ice and mounds of snow, I walked and walked while Shadow and Joy battled each other out in my head. "Why are you here?" Joy demanded. Shadow did not respond, yet her silence and unwavering presence commanded Joy's attention. I walked and walked.

The seed of my shadow was probably planted in my freshman year of high school when my grandmother died on Christmas Eve. For many years after that, we each tried desperately to replace the sadness of her death with the joy we hope to feel at Christmas. Eventually, of course, we did. As a family, we healed and recovered and Christmas was full of joy again- as well as the memory of my dear Grandma. And so as I walked, I searched for other such sources of sadness...

"But I am just so grateful. I have so much gratitude for rich blessings in my life. What is this weight of sadness?" Joy persisted. Finally, after I had walked and walked, the answer came to me quickly and with clarity; instinctively, I knew I'd found what I had sought. "Compassion," Shadow replied. "In order to have deep gratitude for something, you often must have deep compassion for it as well."

The logical, sense-making right hemisphere of my brain seemed satisfied. My heart felt comforted. For this year, as with every single year, there has been heartache and hardship and grief and loneliness and hunger and pain and longing and desperation. Thinking of these people and the burdens they have carried, I feel deep compassion for them, knowing how hard each day must be, and in particular, how much harder these festival days must be. I've walked in those shoes before. And I've imagined walking in many other pairs, too.

If I could choose a single character trait for my children to develop fully and completely, it would be that of compassion. May my children learn to view others and the world "with passion," and with the willingness "to suffer with [another person]" If this means that the joy of our living will be lined in a faint shadow of sorrow, I'll take umbrage knowing it is because of the depth of our gratitude.

Laughter like a bowlful of jelly

Among my most favorite Christmas decorations are the myriad nativity sets we have acquired over the years. They are wooden, cross stitched, etched in gourds, formed from resin and ceramic and cloth. They hang as ornaments on small trees, adorn our stockings and tree skirt, and congregate in every room on the main level. Naturally, the kids are drawn to them; watching the kids with the nativities provided great amusement; initially, Aidan couldn't remember the word "Nativity" and instead called them "Activity scenes" - aptly named, as it turns out --

Aidan loves to re-arrange each set of manger-gazers in such a way so that everyone is gathered around the Baby Jesus to admire him. He is creative in his design; I loved finding the animals nestled right between Mary and the wise men. Most often, they huddled in a tight circle around the baby, adoring him and protecting him all at once.

One nativity traveled to church with us on Sunday mornings, and Pax enjoyed seeing how many times he could throw the camel on the ground and still have us pick it up and give it back to him. Next it was the sheep, and then it was Joseph. When he started to chew on the Baby Jesus, however, we decided he'd had enough of the creche. Hastily, each of us grabbed a piece and put it out of Pax's sight to save for another day. Later, I was troubled that I couldn't find all the parts, but decided they would turn up sooner or later.

A week later, Aidan came home from school and said, "Look what I found in my pocket!" (Recently washed, he was wearing the brown cords he'd worn to church). Out came the Baby Jesus from the church nativity set. I loved that he'd toted that baby around in his pocket all day long!

And then there was Leo's take on the whole manger scene. One particular set, the Little People Nativity, was featured prominently in one room of his doll house. He has a strong affinity for the Angel Gabriel, since it is his middle namesake (having only recently accepted that his name is NOT Leo Paul, but rather Leo Gabriel). That angel doesn't do much watching over the stable; instead, the donkey sits perched atop the manger scene while the angel busily drives with the camel in the undersized red Matchbox car convertible. Meanwhile, Mary attends to the baby Jesus, who had the most unfortunate encounter recorded here. He used tiny voices for each of them, high pitched for Mary and higher still for Jesus:

Mary: Oh baby, why are you crying? Let me give you a kiss (kiss)
Jesus: Um, I am crying because I hurt my cheek. Someone dropped me and I hurt my cheek.
Mary: Well does it feel better now that I gave it a kiss?
(apparently a nod from baby Jesus)
Okay, good.

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Later, Leo decided Mary was a dirty thing. He took her in the bathtub with her and gave her a thorough scrubbing.
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My mom also has a good number of nativity sets at her house; like Aidan, Leo loved arranging the figurines around the Baby Jesus. However, he'd taken all the Baby Jesus's from all the different nativites and gathered them together to adore one Jesus (the cutest one, perhaps?) My mom commented on all the babies and Leo responded,

"Yes, but do you know why there is no sheep here?"

"Why's that?" she asked.

L: The sheep is in time out.

Grandma: Oh, the sheep is in time out? [was the sheep ba-a-a-a-d, I wonder?] Does the baby Jesus ever get put in time out?
L: No, never. But if the Baby Jesus is being naughty, his mama takes him and puts him down for his nap and when he wakes up his behavior is much better.

G: Oh, does that happen to you sometimes?
L: Um, yep!

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(Discussing the church pageant with Grandma)
Leo, what do you want to be in this year's Christmas Pageant?

L: Um, a pumpkin.
Grandma: Well, I'm not sure that there was a pumpkin at the birth of Jesus. Is there something else you want to be? A king? A shepherd?
L No. A pumpkin.

(Leo ended up being a "reluctant" king.)
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Our Advent calendar included daily questions, like this one:

If you could bring the baby Jesus a gift TODAY, what would you bring him?
Aidan: Gold.
Gold? What would he do with gold? I thought it was a pretty silly gift when the wise men brought it to him in the first place!
Aidan: But I like gold, and He would, too!!
Me: Oh, okay. Well I would bring him a pacifier. It would have helped him sleep a lot better, and it would have helped Mary out, too!
Leo, what would you bring the Baby Jesus?
Leo: Hm. I would bring him a leetle, tiny Santa.

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And finally - On Christmas day, as is our family tradition, I made a birthday cake for the Baby Jesus (vanilla with chocolate icing - his favorite), decorated with the plastic Baby Jesus from the aforementioned Little People nativity. Leo did not remember this cake from previous years, and didn't see the cake until it was time for dessert. He took one look at the Baby Jesus smushed into the middle of the cake and shrieked, "Why did you do that to the Baby Jesus? That is not nice! He does not like that!" He refused to touch his cake until I washed that baby clean and returned it to his safekeeping. With eyes brimming with tears and a trembling chin, he reported to me at bedtime, "I did NOT like that you put my Baby Jesus into the cake. That made me ANGRY."

Special Delivery... for YOU!

In our efforts to have a simpler kind of Christmas this year, we decided early on not to send out Christmas cards this year. It seemed like an easy enough piece to let go of, and yet it has not been as easy as I imagined....

For starters, a few friends have expressed disappointment that we're not sending out a card. Last year's manger scene was tough to beat....did we even want to attempt to top it?.... and the popularity of Facebook makes me feel like everyone's seen it all, already - so why should I send out a card? But part of what I loved about our card last year was the fun we had in taking the picture, and if I buy my own excuse about Facebook, I'm feeding the Technology Beast that threatens other time-honored and lovely traditions (like reading Actual Books.)

There are two cards in particular we look forward to receiving each year. The first one is That Christmas Letter - you know the one I mean. Every family gets one - the one from the extended relative whose letter is just.... ridiculous. Maybe it's over-the-top full of accomplishments; maybe it's paragraph after paragraph of oh-woe-is-me; maybe it's so riddled with spelling and grammatical errors you can barely resist pulling out your red pen as you read it. You get one like that too, right? We always have a good laugh when that letter arrives, albeit at the expense of dear family we truly love. But still - the comic relief is usually quite timely amidst the chaos that precedes Christmas. So __________ Family, we thank you for the laughter your card brings and the joy we feel in receiving it!

The other Christmas card we await with great anticipation is that from our college friends, D and J (the "Funtimes" family, I'll call them). I met D the day I moved in; her dorm room was across from mine. 13 years later, we're both moms to big broods of boys - she has a boy Leo's age and twins just a few months younger than Pax. The first Funtimes Christmas card was when they were still childless but newly married - it was a photo card with J. Funtimes dressed in drag as Britney Spears. His outfit was Britney a la "Baby One More Time" but his physique was more

"Britney's Nervous Breakdown." The next year featured a close-up photo of their positive

pregnancy test; the year after that, a photo re-enactment of the delivery of their firstborn son. (Regrettably, I realize I should have archived each year, for subsequent years get kind of foggy.) And so it was with great anticipation that we awaited the arrival of the 2010 Funtimes Christmas Card - and this year did not disappoint! In essence, this year's photo might just top out the "Got Milk?" campaign, as it features all of the male family members sporting the infamous milk moustache with the implication that the milk THEY all prefer doesn't come from a COW..... but rather from the hot mama in the superhero cape framing the shot.

Oh the fun they must have, scheming up the photo, taking the shot, then mailing it out to all of their beloved friends and family, knowing the laughter that would ensue! I was missing our family photo once more....

And so I settled on a compromise of sorts, at least for this year. We staged several photo shoots on two different days, and got a couple of decent pics:

I love this first shot for several reasons. Leo is ready for summer; Pax is ready for Santa; Jeff is sportin' stripes and snowmen; and Aidan is a vision in teal and red. I also love it because it precedes one of my favorite December traditions of ours: a picnic dinner in front of the Christmas tree.

These next two are "outtakes" from what was our second fun photo shoot. I love how Pax is hanging upside down in the first one, and in the second one, how Leo is peeking around with mischief in his eye.....

..And finally, my favorite family Christmas picture this year (so far.) Envision this photo arriving in your mailbox with the lovely quote calligraphied at the bottom, each card painstakingly hand-made with card stock, letter presses, and glue dots. (Hey, if I'm going to go virtual, I might as well go all out, right?)

"The best of all gifts around a Christmas tree: the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other." -Burton Hillis

Merry Christmas to you!

Love, Anne et al.

Shadows

This is about as quick and dirty as they come - I'm in the thick of final exam prep, holiday prep, shipping prep, wrapping, cooking, baking, and merry making prep. I'll return to my normal, loquacious self after the 14th at approximately 9:00p.m. when my final exam will be finished. Until then -

Tonight my mom invited us to view Monticello in the "after hours" tour for a chance to see Jefferson's home decorated for Christmas. It was cool and kind of spooky to be on grounds after dark - I often feel like you don't really know what a home is like until you see it in darkness...

We were touring the various rooms and Leo kept asking about all the rope barriers that prevent visitors from touching anything in the home. Leo asked, "So we are not allowed in that room?" "No, Leo, we're not allowed." Staring into the room, backlit by candlelights, he asked, "What about shadows? Are shadows allowed into the room?"

I loved, loved, loved this question on so many levels.... Leo delights in his shadow whenever he finds it, and it is still clear that he does not have it altogether figured out yet. On the surface, his question probes a basic concept he has yet to master fully - but delving deeper, it suggests so much more. Maybe I've had a little too much Freud this semester, but all I could think about was a shadow representing one's Id... the ability of my shadow, my Id to go where no one else is allowed to go, to lay down on Jefferson's bed, wear his boots, look out his telescope.

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This morning, we were shivering inside the car at the bus stop. I had the heat on, but we were still frozen. Aidan looked up at the car's thermometer and said, "I know it is 10 degrees, but what is it in Calcium?" (Celsius).