I was folding laundry when I realized it was very quiet...too quiet. I walked upstairs fully expecting to meet disaster in the face. Maybe a kids-only fingernail polish party or something of that nature. But no. Just look at these perfectly behaved calm children all getting along beautifully. And even reading during their Christmas break. Ahhhh. Bliss.

One of my absolute favorite things about Christmas is the smell! Throughout most of December I have a pot of the most disgusting looking mush simmering away on my stovetop. Looks like crap...smells like heaven. And YOU, oh you lucky duck, get to hear about it.


Make up a little pot of this homemade potpourri and I promise you the next guest in your home will exclaim, "ohhh! It smells so good in here." Now, isn't that what we all want? Especially when we're trying to mask the odor of dirty diapers, overdue laundry, and dishes hiding in the oven. Not that I've ever done that or anything.


Here's what you need:


1 sliced apple

1 sliced orange (lemons would probably work too, although I haven't tried them)

2 or so cinnamon sticks

5-6 whole cloves

a pinch of whole allspice


Put it all in a small pot, cover with water, bring to a boil, turn to low, and let it do its magic. remember to add water as needed. Easy easy. One pot will stay fragrant for a week or more, depending on how long you simmer it. And the longer you use it, the worse it looks. yum.


Last year, I made up little bags with all the ingredients, tied a ribbon with the instructions, and gave them to friends and neighbors. Everyone seemed to enjoy it...well, the women anyway. I imagine there were a few husbands who thought cookies or fudge would've been just fine.

For the last two days we have had the BEST Christmas treat around here. My parents came to visit. As much as we love aunts, uncles, and cousins, it's also wonderful for the kids to get their one-on-one time with their Grandma and Papa. None of us kids are going to be able to go home for Christmas this year, so mom and dad are making the rounds to all of us. Sunny Las Vegas was their first stop. Sunny, but still cold...if you call weather in the 50s cold. We do. Yes, I know we're spoiled rotten, but we endure 4 months of scorchin' hot sun, so we can enjoy absolutely beautiful winters. So I don't feel bad bragging...neener neener.

The kids loved every second of the visit.

Grandma and Papa, but really Grandma, made these cutie gingerbread (graham cracker) houses for decorating. They lugged them all the way here. Then they're off to Salt Lake and San Jose to make some more grandkids happy.

the candy reveal:

the anticipation:

the masterpiece:

and lots and lots of bonding time:

Then of course, it wouldn't be complete without a trip down to the strip to see the winter gardens at the Bellagio and the water & light show.

It was maybe 45 degrees by this point...look, we own coats!

And to fill in all the cracks of down time, Papa babysat so my mom and I could shop. He was so kind to play about 50 million games of basketball with Ty, take walks with Claire, and tease them all to no end. What a Grandpa!

We all had a super time. Hopefully, we didn't wear out the company too much. They've still got more fun to do.

After reading on a friend's blog about leaving reindeer food on your lawn on Christmas Eve, I had this really great idea.

In fact, I'm thinking about marketing it, so if you don't mind I'm going to give you my sales pitch right now. Please leave me a comment, so I know if I've got a future or not.

Ok, here it goes. I'm a little nervous.

On Saturday we did a little Christmas shopping. First I went out and Reas stayed home with the kids. Then we switched.

As I was happily prancing around Kohl's all by myself, I noticed other moms who weren't as lucky as me - they had their kids with them. And then I made a BIG mistake. I laughed at them. Just in my head, of course. And the only reason I felt justified in this cruel behavior was because usually I'm THAT mom - the one shopping with the kids. I don't think that I was actually laughing because they were so miserable, but more because I was so happy to not be them at that moment. See? I'm not really all that bad. But still, I should not have laughed. Carma would soon teach me that.

My shopping trip went smoothly. I was gone about 2 1/2 hours. I came home a new woman. When I walked in the front door everything was in order. Kids were happy, Lily had slept for nearly the whole time I was gone, Reas was even able to rake leaves and clean up the yard. He and Ty were happily lounging in front of a football game. A pretty simple success for him, I'd say.

THEN HE LEFT.

Here's what I did in the 1 1/2 hours he was gone:

Finish making and cleaning up lunch

Start working on my mom's gift and soon realized it's NOT going to work

Claire's complaining of a tummy ache

Bundle up Claire, lay her on the couch, and continue to listen to her complain

Listen to the others fight while they're trying to play Uno.

Put away the crappy Christmas gift supplies

Still cleaning up lunch

Lily's crying...loud. Can't figure out why.

Hear the familiar sound of throw up coming from Claire...on the floor, on the couch, on the pillow, on the blanket, in her hair, down her shirt, on me.

Strip down Claire and leave her standing there while I at least get the stuff cleaned up off the floor, so it's not tracked around the house.

Get Claire upstairs to the bath.

Lily's still crying. She'll have to wait.

Back downstairs to scrub the couch.

Throw a load of puke clothes in the wash.

Scrub the cushions.

Pick up Lily because she's still crying. Smell poop. A lot of it. It's everywhere - on her clothes, on the couch, on me.

Clean her up and get a diaper on her.

Run upstairs because Claire's crying. She wants out of the bath.

Get her out. Get her dressed.

Run downstairs to finish dressing Lily.

Scrub the poop couch.

Rinse poop clothes.

Back upstairs to bring Claire down to the couch.

She's complaining of a tummy ache. More throw-up.

Put another load in the wash.

Oh! Reas is home.

Claire falls asleep.

Lily falls asleep.

...and I am done.

Next time, I won't laugh.

Santa asked the kids what they wanted.

Since the day Lily arrived, we've wondered where her little look came from. Those cheeks, those EARS, the shape of her face. It's all different than I remember our other babies looking. Then I came across this picture of Claire at almost exactly the same age as Lily - same jammies just a bit more spit-up stained, same Christmas decorations (it was only slightly staged). I was surprised at the similarities.

I'm not sure what features are causing the resemblance, but something is there. Maybe the noses.

Whatever it is, they're cute. And they're mine.

This morning as I stood at the kitchen counter at 6:30 making Reas a lunch to take to work, I had one of those flash forward episodes. Now before I am mistaken for the perfect wife, I don't always make his lunch. I don't even usually make his lunch. I used to be much better at it, but apparently with baby #4 I make a few more excuses for myself. Someday I might be that wife. I hope I will be. This morning was a rare occassion. So like I was saying, I was making his sandwich and decided I may as well make Maggie's too since everything was out. So I pulled out two more slices of bread. Four slices lay before me on the counter in that mostly dark, still quiet kitchen. Then my head started to swirl and I swear I saw little twinkle stars all around me. Suddenly I was wearing the same grey bathrobe my Mom always wore and her fuzzy white hightop slippers. I no longer had four slices of bread, but 14! I was happily slapping together sandwich after sandwich after sandwich, and greeting each groggy member of the family who stumbled through the kitchen with the cheeriest good morning you ever heard. Whoa! This is SO not me. Will it be someday? Is it possible? Then I was myself again and grateful that I only had to make two sandwiches. But, when Reas came walking into the kitchen and I turned to say good morning to him, it surprised me how much I sounded like my mom. It's funny when I see glimpses of myself becoming her. And if I become anything like her, it will be a great thing. Being able to happily pack school lunches for lots of kids and a husband is only one of her qualities I hope to inherit. And boy, she packed 'em good. For example, I'm sure we were the only kids to ever get cake in a cup. Anytime there was leftover cake, pie, or any kind of frosted deliciousness we would get it in our lunch the next day at school. She'd put it in a plastic cup with plastic wrap rubberbanded over the top. Yes, I know it sounds funny. Go ahead and laugh. All my friends did too. But I know they were really just jealous that their mom didn't take the time to keep their cake from getting smashed in their lunch bag...if they even had cake.

Here's another bread story. Don't what's causing this. Baking season perhaps? When I was like 7 0r 8, we'll say 7...before the age of accountability, my mom sent me out to the garage to get a loaf of bread out of the freezer. It was rock solid, so I thought I'd help her out by breaking all the slices apart. I began swinging the bag around and hitting it on the edge of the freezer. I was smart, I tell ya. Obviously, the bag busted open, throwing slices of bread all over the dirty garage floor. Must Hide Evidence. There were plenty more loaves in the freezer, so no one needed to know. I just needed to find somewhere to hide all the bread. Looking back, the obvious answer would have been to throw it in the outside trash, or better yet, tell my mom the truth. It was an accident. Maybe kind of a dumb one, but still. Instead, I scooped it all up and threw it over the wall into the neighbor's backyard. I'm a tricky one.

And one last tale from my bready past before sending you on your way. It's not a funny one. It's a Christmas one actually, because well, tis the season. EVERY single year at Christmastime my Mom would make loaves and loaves of homemade bread that we'd wrap up, top with a bow, load up into the van and take to all our friends. Everyone loves her bread. I remember passing out those loaves of fresh bread on cold nights and they'd all say, "Ooooooooooh, it's still warm!" I remember how nice it was holding a warm loaf in my lap while riding around the town in a chilly van. It was so fun to make friends so happy. So this year, we're going to do the same thing. I'm going to pull out Mom's recipe and spend a day in the kitchen with the kids. I wish all of you were near enough for us to deliver warm bread to your doorstep. Be sure though, I am thinking of all of you no matter the distance. I am grateful for friends and family who lift me up and inspire me to do better. Can't wait to spread the joy...and the butter. Merry Christmas, friends!