It's A Wrap

The greatest good behavior incentive ever invented has come and gone, and my stock response to "Mommy, I want that" inducing commercials ("You'll have to ask Santa for it!") no longer packs the same punch. I'm kind of bummed about that. But we did have a super Christmas!

Wednesday afternoon after Owen's 2nd preschool party we went to Cumberland for dinner and gift exchange with Bob's dad. It was wonderful to have Todd, Maria and Hannah there as well; we've all witnessed some awesome changes this year that celebrate family and we are so thankful for that.


His present is taller than him!


Nope, no idea why Owen has wrapping paper on his forehead.

We spent the night at Nanny's house, woke up rested and relaxed and enjoyed her typical yummy breakfast before exchanging more presents!


At Nanny's, we go by the rule that just about every food can be improved with whipped cream!


Woo-hoo ... another John Deere tractor!


And SpongeBob pj's!


"Mommy, open me! I'm your present!" So, so true!


Maria is pretty much always this happy. She is truly a joy to be around.


Hannah and Todd in a quiet moment (photo by Owen). Check out the love on Todd's face - pretty great, huh?

On Friday we journeyed to Gettysburg in order to celebrate my mom's birthday and spend the day with Kris, Jeff, Samantha, Mackenzie, and Riley, who arrived early in the morning after driving all night from Green Bay (do not envy them that trip at all, but so glad they do it!!).

To give Jeff some peace and quiet for his nap, we took the kids to an indoor play place for a few hours, where I snapped this cute pic of Riley (but nothing else really "post-able").


Many arcade games, tickets and one plastic snake later, we went back to the house, greeted Uncle Rich and Aunt Cathy; had dinner and gluten-free birthday cake; and, yep, opened more gifts!


Kenzie didn't think much of this wrapping job, but she adored the gift inside.


Our beautiful Rapunzel ... I mean Samantha!


Isn't Jeff lucky to have a sister-in-law like me to buy him a pink polo? Yeah, it's a little joke ... but it really is a nice shirt!


Uncle Rich demonstrating proper use of Dad's new golf ball belt. Kenzie wisely avoiding looking.


Owen got "Pigeon Wants a Puppy" and asked Cearra to read it right away. Owen will not be getting a puppy any time soon.

Finally it was back to our house for the night. Owen was very excited for Santa's visit.


Milk and cookies for Santa; carrots for the reindeer.

Christmas morning ... so much fun to watch Owen come around the corner into the family room and see all the packages Santa left. He just kind of stared and said, "Wow, that's a lot of presents".


His new zhu-zhu hamsters Sarge and Thorn helped him open his gifts.


Couldn't resist some zebra print duct tape for Cearra's stocking!

After more unwrapping (I do have the photos, but thought I'd spare you any more scenes of Owen ripping off paper!) we had breakfast, then drove to Aunt Jeanne and Uncle Bud's for our annual Kaufmann family party. Loved catching up with my cousins and their spouses. As always, Jeanne outdid herself with the food and hospitality (mmm, maybe that will inspire her to leave a comment)!

Whew - so, four Christmas celebrations in four days, and we were all happily exhausted. The 26th was the perfect day for us to keep warm in front of a fire, cheer on our playoff bound Ravens, chow down on chili and (more) Christmas cookies, and enjoy some of our goodies.


Bob with two of his gifts - Mary Baldwin Dad mug from Cee-Cee, and a Ravens snuggie thing from me!


He occassionally does play with something other than tractors.


My John Deere kids - the best gifts I ever received.

So that's it from here. I sincerely hope your Christmas was special. Bring on 2011!

Preschool Parties

Owen's Panther Pals preschool holiday party; during the "show" he stood with his hands in his pocket and sang "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the HOTDOG".



And from his Little People's Place preschool this afternoon, where he didn't sing much at all, but was happy to let Santa know he wanted a "Mr. Crabs combine" for Christmas.


Is it just me, or does the baby Jesus look like he's laying in a taco?

JOY

We are thick in the hustle and bustle of the season; enjoying having Cearra home; and putting the finishing touches on the Christmas decorations and presents.




Could have used my sister's talent when making our gingerbread train!



My little Rudolph ...


and soap bubble Santa.


Remy thinks she's one of our presents under the tree!


I have no greater joy than my family. This Christmas I wish you all the warmth of love; the laughter of children; and the glow of hope and faith.

Because You Are Building A Cathedral

My cousin Brenda, who has four teenagers and a husband who travels frequently (and oh, who currently lives in Spain!) read Optional Post II and emailed this to me. I found it inspiring and comforting, and wanted to share ...

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, 'Can't you see I'm on the phone?' Obviously not; no one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. The invisible Mom.

Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, 'What time is it? I'm a satellite guide to answer, 'What number is the Disney Channel? I'm a car to order, 'Right around 5:30, please.

I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, and she's gone!

One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip,and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, 'I brought you this.' It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.

In the days ahead I would read -no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:

No one can say who built the great cathedrals; we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, 'Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it. And the workman replied,'Because God sees.'

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, 'I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become.

At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.

When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, 'My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies. Then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table.' That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, 'you're gonna love it there.'

As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

*Invisible Mom, from 'The Invisible Woman' by Nicole Johnson

Coming Soon!

Wow, I'm late this year! I like to get these babies in the mail right after Thanksgiving. But there were so many fabulous designs (and cute pictures of Owen and Cearra!) that it took me a while to decide.

Here's a sneak peak at what some of you will find in your mailbox soon ... I'm saving the other winning card as a surprise.

Card designed on Shutterfly.

Optional Post II

Yesterday morning my sister posted a "public service announcement" on facebook warning those in the Green Bay area that she was in a b*tchy mood. Last night I should have been the one sending out flares.

Sometimes it's hard to put a finger on my darker moods, and the best I can come up with now is that the past few days I've been feeling like that guy in Greek mythology who rolls the boulder up the mountain, only to have it roll right back down again (yes, I could google his name but you know who I mean). And I've been doing it all by myself. Bob has been out of town for most of the past two months, and I think I've been afflicted by PSPD (post "single" parent disorder).

Anyway, yesterday ...

the snow kept me from getting to the gym and grocery store; and although it might be pathetic I'm going to go ahead and admit I was looking forward to hitting Safeway - I have several new recipes I'm going to try out next week and it's fun to assemble the ingrediants (oh yep ... that is pathetic).

Bob didn't get home from work+gym+commute until almost 8, so the special shrimp scampi meal I had planned to celebrate Cearra's arrival home for Christmas break ended up tasting as if it had been sitting on a buffet at some (cheap) all-you-can-eat seafood restaurant.

After dinner there was yet another load of laundry to do, dishes to wash, toys to clean up, etc. etc. And another winter cold was sneaking up on my sinuses.

My friend Alison shared that she tries to focus on serving God by cheerfully going about her daily chores and making her home safe, comfortable and happy for her family (or something like that; I did get the point when she told me and it was helpful, although I know I'm making it sound rather revolting in a Stepford wife kind of way).

I try to do that, and sometimes it does help. But I realized this morning that I think the issue at core is that I'm feeling like I do not really accomplish anything:

I wash and put away clothes; the next day the hamper is full again.
I wash and put away dishes; the next day I have to do it again.
I clean the house; the next week, same thing.
I make a meal; gone in 15 minutes.
I clean the bathroom floor; next day it's full of hair again (Bob and I are hairy people)

... I think you get the point. I'm the guy pushing the boulder up the hill. And lately the hamster on a wheel is having more fun than me.

My last "real" job was in Global Marketing for Willis Insurance Brokers. I had a terrific boss who trusted in me and expected me to do a great job - and I did. I had a team of co-workers who I lead in preparing Willis for the Elliott Spitzer lawsuit that rocked the insurance world (before Spitzer rocked the prostituion world). I reviewed contracts for all of Willis' offices across the country; I traveled to NYC for meetings. Not every day was thrilling and there were days I would have rather been at home goofing off, but I accommplished something everyday. I was recognized for my brains, my determination, my skills. I got raises and bonuses. I got things done.

I gladly said goodbye to the corporate world when Owen came along. I feel that there is no more important job than being home with him, and most days I am happy, happy, happy. But there's no denying this recent bout of um, boredom - frustration - lack of enthusaism for my job now.

So I begin thinking that I need a hobby/project which allows me to actually accomplish something everyday - something that won't be dirtied, eaten, thrown away the next day. Something that won't get undone.

I considered some new craft that would provide me both with a creative outlet and fabulous Christmas presents for next year, and I realized that in a way writing is my hobby. It makes me feel creative, and bright, and it lets me get the swirling thoughts in order. I spend a few happy minutes babbling, hit "Publish Post", and wait for the encouraging comments (ahem) to follow.

And along with this post and heading to Michael's, maybe I just need an adittude adjustment. After all, I am creating something long-lasting and permanent with every daily chore. I am trying to make a happy, safe, comfortable childhood for Owen, and a pleasant home life for Bob and Cearra. There is value in those goals, even though it can never be measured in contracts signed or checks written.

Yes, I'm already feeling better about things. Bob is taking us out to breakfast so I don't have to face the cooking/cleaning combo just yet, and afterward I'll get to go to the grocery store (where I will be buying cold medicine).

I'll just go unload the dishwasher before we leave. With a smile on my face. Well, maybe not, but I promise not to actually throw any of the dishes. And that's a step back into the right direction.

The End of an Era

Fifteen years ago at work, I overheard a friend saying that someone had left a cat at her house, and then left the state. Because she already had two dogs and a cat at home, she'd have to take the new arrival to the pound. With sadness in her voice my friend commented that she doubted anyone would adopt the cat because it was already 8months old, and ugly to boot.

"I'll take the cat!"

Yep, if you know me at all you know I couldn't hear that and not pipe up (despite the fact that I knew next to nothing about cats and hadn't yet cleared the idea with Bob).

So, my friend and I made a plan. She would drop the cat - Mercedes - at the vet the next day to get spayed; I would pick her up and take her home. So with Bob's consent, I arrived mid-day at the vet's ... and was presented with a scrawny, meowing, patchy-looking "teenager", who indeed, was not the picture of cuteness.

I took her back to my office, where she promptly fell asleep in a cardboard box I'd lined with an old, soft towel, and the two of us passed the rest of the day in happy companionship.

What a great cat my little "ugly", abandoned Sadie turned out to be. She provided us with many more days of love and companionship and paved the way for all of our furry kids that followed.

In the early days especially I treated her a bit like a dog, encouraging her to curl up next to me on the couch and carrying her around the house. She responded by always wanting to be near us, and carrying on long conversations with anyone who looked her way. The vet would later comment that she thought Sadie was a mix of tortie and Siamese, and indeed, Sadie's ability and desire to vocalize was far beyond any other cat I've ever met.

She had some other weird little quirks - she loved to sniff plastic and would practically maul you for a bite of cookie, bread, or Taco Bell (but she never liked tuna). She loved chasing a flashlight beam played about the walls and floor. And while never mean to Lexi, Ava, Remy or Beamer, she was the undisputed queen of the pride at our house.

In mid-July she got very sick, and since then had been on a regime of three medications administered twice a day. But the past month had been a good one for her - she had regained some of her appetite and a little weight, and had started to sleep curled by my side every night (displacing a slightly annoyed Remy).

Last Friday night Sadie exhausted her nine lives. Her body was tired, and we both knew it was time for her to join Lexi and Ava in heaven. I cradled her gently as my favorite vet (Dr. Cornett at Airpark Animal Hospital) shed tears with me, then helped Sadie ease off to sleep. I know Sadie was ready to go, and it was peaceful and dignified at the end.

But the house is awfully quiet now, and boy, do I miss her. Thank you for everything my beautiful Sadie girl.


A young Sadie (and Bob)


Always curious ...


Owen loved her too