Jack Frost

Just as we decided to head out to the Christmas Tree farm for my in-laws tree this morning, the wind began to pick up. It seemed that in a matter of minutes, the last few colored leaves were ripped off their branches and hurled down the mountain side as our car hummed passed crisp autumn breezes and bore into the harsh winter wind.

For weeks I have been trying to explain "Cold weather" to the Bear. One particular morning, after several minutes of vigorous pantomiming accompanied by blank staring and head shaking, I picked him up and hoisted him nearer to the freezer. I opened the door and stuck his hand in. "This" I said, "is what Allentown is like." The Bear said, "coooold." Today, a rosy dawn brought in quite the chill and my baby Cubans finally met cold weather.

This morning I lost all my Thanksgiving weight (and then some!) when I dressed the boys for winter. Dressing a toddler for an outdoor winter activity is like trying to get ballet tights on a pissed off octopus. Legs and arms flailing, backs arching, heads thrashing, babbles of protest, taking the occasional toddler knee to the eye or jaw. 8 layers, 2 knit stocking caps, 6 pairs of socks and many many tears later, we were finished. I was sweating and the boys looked like white croquettas.

Every time I see little boys with big blue eyes all dressed up for winter, I can't help but think of Ralphie and Randy from A Christmas Story, bundled up like suburban Eskimos and traversing long winter days filled with Red Rider guns and Scott Farcus types.

Cubby is definitely a cold weather baby. We bundled him up and swathed him in coats, a knit hat and a little scarf. His nose turned bright pink and his blue eyes sparkled up at us from under all his winter wear. He cooed, smiled, and leaned contentedly against J's cheek as we trudged to the top of the hill in search of THE tree. A half a dozen variety of evergreens and firs lined the mountainside, from Charlie Brown trees to the Clark Griswald variety, trees as far as the eye could see. Cubby gazed over them all and felt happy from the tip of his chilly nose, down his jolly baby belly to his warm baby toes.

Then there was the Bear.

He behaved very well and powered through the afternoon. But there was a distinct look of "what the %$#@?" on his face when the car door opened and that first fog horn blast of cold air hit his face. Bewildered and slightly miserable, my poor little Bear walked himself up the mountainside, played with the evergreens and never complained once, even though it took a good forty minutes to find the right tree. He even learned how to give an Eskimo kiss and say, "fa la la," which actually sounded more like "frogger log" but hey, I'm still a proud mama. On the way down his animal sounds and usual chatter started sounding a bit off. We noticed that his jaw seemed to be locked in place from the cold. I began to worry when his eyelids stopped moving, but we made it to the car soon enough and he quickly recovered.

Later this evening we will be decorating Grandma and Poppy's Christmas Tree. The boys will be decked out in their matching red long johns and we will definitely be sipping well earned hot cocoa. This week is floating by in a cloud of happiness and joy. The kids love visiting their grandparents. I don't blame them. Presents and ice cream, cuddles and kisses, trains and wonder of wonders, a staircase! Little smiles play across their faces as they sleep each night. I like to wonder what sort of sugarplum dreams Allentown has brought them this week.

After all the climbing and mountain wandering this morning, I'd bet my right arm that this evening Cubby will be dreaming of candy canes and snow castles, while the Bear dreams of sun tan lotion and palm trees.

Homecoming

There is something so beautiful and special about an autumn homecoming. This week we have come home to J's parents and after a long and weary trip, home never felt so good! The boys behaved like angels on our flights over but 9 hours of traveling took its toll, evidenced this morning by a wake up time of 8:30AM--monumental!

The Bear's first word this morning came out in a tumble of sleepy sweetness. "Poppy." He couldn't wait to see his grandfather again. We raced downstairs and he played all morning, refusing to even eat breakfast. Grandma finally won him over with a bowl of spaghetti at around noon and true to his Italian blood, he could not refuse the offering. Cubby slept half the day away and during his waking hours he also enjoyed eating and playing the day away. The cold crisp air surrounded the house while we played inside, snuggley and warm. Grandma and Poppy bought the Bear a brand new toothbrush with Elmo on it. Joy of joys!! The Bear held it nearly all day long and I am slightly surprised he didn't brush his gums off. He put the toothbrush down for dinner and enjoyed several helping of steak, rice and broccoli. Grandma served him not one, but two bowls of ice cream and after a nice long bath he collapsed into bed.

I snuggled next to him and read his favorite book aloud. He looked up at me and asked for his goodnight song, which we sing every night. It consists of saying goodnight to each member of our family including a few good friends and his godmother. I had planned on singing a condensed version this evening since I am tired and still need to pitch in with Thanksgiving preparations, so I only sang goodnight to Mommy, Daddy, Cubby, Grandma, Poppy and the stars. Well, I left out two people that the Bear just could not go to sleep without wishing a goodnight.

"Mama. BELLO! BELLA!"

"Oh, you're right! Ok, we'll sing goodnight to them too."

So we said goodnight to his other grandparents, many miles away from him this evening but certainly not forgotten in his heart. As I closed the door he said once more for good measure, "Bello...Bella" in a very sleepy and happy voice.

Tradition minus Topol

Growing up in South Florida means several things for the Christmas season:

We never drive to a beautiful tree farm in the country to cut down our own fresh pine.

We never ever have snow, not even close.

We do not go sledding or skiing, unless its on water and therefore have precious little need for knitwear of any kind.

We experience only 6-7 days each year that truly merit the making of hot chocolate.

If you try to go Caroling, you could be shot at by thugs or drained of all blood by the Chupacabra.

Thankfully, none of these things affects our true appreciation and love of Christmas and since most of us have grown up here, we are none the wiser and rather enjoy our tropical holiday weather (unless you are my mother). My family piled into the car every year the day after Thanksgiving to go fetch our Christmas tree. We bought our tree at one of several tree tents around town. These "tree tents" are basically massive red and white striped circus tents stuffed to the hilt with evergreens, each held in place by the wrought iron spikes sticking into their trunks. Dad liked them tall, Mom liked them plump, my sister and I liked to race around the rows of impaled Christmas trees trying to find the fattest plumpest tree before the other. We'd pick out our tree, drive home and begin the long process of putting up the tree, decorating the house and finally, ordering in horrific amounts of MSG-soaked Chinese food and watching Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase.

I used to love watching and helping my Dad put up the tree. Christmas tunes would blast from the stereo as we fa la la'd around the house placing red bows on lamp shades and plastic pointsettias around every picture frame on the walls. Then my Mother would drag in plastic storage bins filled with Christmas decorations we had collected throughout the years. We have one ornament to celebrate and remember every year, home, child, vacation, Elementary craft fair project, deceased pet and anniversary conceivable. Opening the ornament box is like looking through a scrapbook of our lives. Eventually the last hallmark memory is hung from a bough and we sit back to admire the tree. If it manages to not topple over, we proceed to the living room for the chinese food and Chevy.

Now its time for new family traditions and I want to establish ours early, after all Christmas comes only once a year! This afternoon we packed the boys into the car, with red shirts and matching knit caps firmly in place, and off we went in search of a small evergreen to call our own. We decided to purchase a small tree this year in consideration of the fact that our children like to pull large objects down on top of themselves. In an attempt to avoid all things organ crushing or ER-related this Christmas, our little tree stands at a very proud 5 feet and is slimmer than a Parisian model. The tree tent had piles of tree trimmings near the check out stand for free, I grabbed a generous amount and made a few wreaths when we arrived home, gathering scraggly bits of pine and tucking them into various corners. J set up the tree and I proceeded to deck the house in holly and sap. (Babies and sap are a particularly terrible combination, bath time included several shrieks of protest and wails of misery this evening). I dusted off our box of meager decorations and we looked over the three new ones we've added this year celebrating one vacation, one new child and one frisky little owl. We had a lovely time stringing them up.

The little bungalow is now decked out for Christmas. The front room smells of pine, pumpkin spice and baby powder. The boys loved playing with their newly reintroduced Play School Manger Set. Baby Jesus is whiter than Cubby and the Wise Men are suspiciously paler than I imagine Middle Eastern Princes would be but nonetheless the boys chirped out a chorus of "moos" and "baahs" before dinner this evening. They played a rather rambunctious session of "Three sheep and a donkey attack Mary and Joseph while a lone angel beats a cow over the head with Baby Jesus". When we finally sat down to eat our butternut squash soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (J hates Chinese) I watched the Bear eagerly wield his spoon from bowl to mouth and noticed Cubby admiring the lights from our little tree, I felt truly grateful for my little family.

Once the Advent season begins we will eat our meals each night by the light of the wreath. The first week will be quite dark with little illumination from the one lit candle, but each week our dinner table will grow brighter and brighter as we near the coming of our King!

Into the Afternoons

The days are slipping by all too fast this November. With so many house projects, crafts, and weekly commitments going on, its hard to find time for writing. Our garden continues to progress through its various construction phases and I am constantly amazed at how each triumph or setback weighs upon my day. A few days ago I stepped out onto the soft mound of the North bed and gave the Sweet Pea bushes a pep talk. Clad in my blue pajamas and green Wellingtons, I urged them to take hold of the soil and fight the good fight. I believe that they will rally within the next week and I will celebrate with a special cup of Fortnum & Mason's Vanilla Tea.

As for the boys, the Bear is learning twenty or so new words a day. Bathroom, dinosaur, window, mailbox, lettuce, rectangle, the list goes on and on. He said the word "slimy" today and I marveled at the monumental benchmark of his departure from endless nouns into the bright new world of adjectives. It's a bit like the Secret Garden really---little Mary carried around that old rusted garden key all day with a secret smile and a happy musing over the beautiful world that lay just beyond the garden wall and then when the ivy curtain swung away the wooden door finally creaked open and what precious treasure tumbled forth! The Bear is just beginning to use his key and I know the bounty of words beyond the garden wall are about to open up.

We read books now! We don't just look at pictures and point out familiar objects. He can understand the stories and share in the emotions each character is feeling. I feel this shock of electricity throughout my whole being when I remember all the books I want to show him. I'll be introducing him to so many worlds I sought comfort and adventure in as a child. I can't wait to take him to all those places!

Cubby is a tornado of personality and motion. At times baby-proofing for him feels akin to an attempt at preserving fine china in the midst of an elephant march for he is charged with energy throughout the entire day and surges forward at full strength, plowing down everything in his path. He is such a beautiful boy. I already pity those future broken-hearted girls, hopelessly lost in the oceanic depths of his sparkly blue eyes. He has a strong character and a sweet charm about him. I love his new found passion for crawling at lightning speed and the way he rubs his thumb over his new teeth. The cheeky glow about him when he peeks over at us with a sly smile is priceless. He is a joy.

Both boys are enjoying the somewhat cooler weather, if 83 degrees qualifies as "cooler." Our afternoons are filled with the tempting possibilities of tea and naps. We've experimented with sidewalk chalk and pumpkin seeds and discovered that both are still not age appropriate. But we do enjoy Beatles Brunch on Thursdays and the daily strolls in the doubles jogger with J. The Bear and Cubby especially enjoy visiting my Abuelos and spending time in their backyards. I remember arriving at their homes when I was a child and racing t0 the backyard where upon I would lose myself in a mango tree for a few hours at the helm of my imagination. The boys seems to be similarly inclined...

Just yesterday I arrived at my Abuela's house to retrieve the Bear from his afternoon play date. I walked into the backyard close to the twilight hour. The top of the sky, frothed in pinks and glossy purple hues, had just enough orange sunlight left to send beams of gold through the dark layered screens of the mamey tree. And there, beneath the tree, sat my little Bear, wreathed in sunlight and looking quite angelic. My grandparents sat close by, watching him dig happily in the dirt with a small red shovel. His curls were damp and his right cheek was streaked with dirt, he looked thoroughly happy and undeniably tired. It seemed like a moment recalled from a deep memory. I did not want to break the beautiful silence that surrounded that later afternoon hour, if I spoke a word those beams of sunlight would retreat back through the leaves and into the heavens and the memory would be lost. Thankfully I watched, unnoticed, for a few minutes. The beams departed on their own accord and the magic dissipated when the Bear saw me and dissolved into tears of exhaustion and relief. I cradled him in my arms, kissed him and carried him to the car, all the while remembering that although he is a big brother, he is a baby yet.

Newly planted

The garden is here.

Just outside my window, where I always knew it would be. The first time we walked the wooden floors of our home, I approached the large window in the master bedroom and thought, "my desk would go here and my garden would be just outside." And so it is.

I love that I can come to my desk now, ready to write or correspond or relax, and that contentment, color and imagination are just a glance away. I love that each morning I am greeted by the fragrant white blossoms of oleanders beneath the sill. The growing clumps of plumago and durante, tittering away their secrets to the wind, bring a smile to my face and an idea to my mind. They bring more joy and depth and meaning to my everyday life simply by being what they were created to be. What healing simplicity...

The garden has another feature---a beautiful brick walkway. My husband labored for days over it. Carefully plotting and fitting each old Chicago brick into a lovely path with two satisfying curves. He did not have the time or energy for this project, but he did it anyway. He did it for me. I feel blessed to the bone and cherished each time I look at it.

Our garden project should be completed by Christmas. We still have to lay some mulch, place a few borders, finish the final pathways, nail the pickets to the fence and set the gates on their hinges. Then we will be left with the week to week joy of working with our hands and watching the beauty of nature progress. I'll be sure to include a few pictures from time to time.

Now that the garden is well underway I can return to a few tasks that I shelved for a week or two. My quilt is once again in my hands and the basket of gourds and squashes can now meet their soupy fates. Laundry, I salute you. Clean floors, welcome! Freshly baked bread, ah, how we missed you. Mended friendship, I cherish you closer to my heart than ever before.

And finally, I am blessed. Not by any material possession, power or earthly relationship, but by a spreading wealth of love that daily fills me. It is a rich, deep soil. My roots seek to stretch out in His words and anchor my soul in that soil. How painful to think of the tremendous hole my life would bear without Jesus. The place He fills is unfathomably deep, the rift He heals so achingly wide. I am thankful. I rejoice. Wonder of wonders, He loves me, cherishes me and sustains me. In my younger years, I always looked for ways that God could please me. I searched for earmarks of blessing, what did I have or gain that meant God was on my side? I wish I had known then that I had only to look to God for the contentment I longed after. The blessings of the soul are truly greater than any earthly blessing we could find. Our greatest blessing has already been freely given, the sacrifice of Jesus and the payment of his blood for our sins. The greatest debt of all, lifted. May the wandering pilgrims at last lay down their enormous burdens and rejoice.

New showers of mercy are falling afresh upon the newly planted, and we are at peace.