Christmas Day!

Not caught up, not by a long shot, but still, we're getting there.

It was a lovely Christmas this year.  Two services on Friday evening - a packed family-focused service at 5pm, and a more solemn communion service at 9pm.  Asa and Mommy went home for the latter, but we did manage to go out and have a lovely dinner with Helen between the first service and Asa's bedtime.  I just wish I'd caught a picture of Asa and Helen snuggling and chatting after dinner, although images probably couldn't capture the little love affair going on.

I did capture his outfit for church, though:

After the second service, I headed home so that M. and I could engage, for the first time, in that parental ritual of putting together a kid's Christmas present late on Christmas Eve night.  In our case, it was a rocking moose - an Ikea special.  It's very cute, and small enough for our little Bean, which is good because it came without instructions.  As I left church, I called home so that M. could know when I'd be home.  The conversation went like this:

Me: On my way!
Her: I have good news and bad news.
Me: Oh?
Her: No instructions.  None.
Me: ***beeeeep***
Her: But I think I have it figured out.
Me: You rock my world.

To her credit, she only groaned a little at the really bad pun.

We did get it put together with only one minor glitch.  And on Christmas morning...

But this was not Asa's only means of rocking.

Pa-rum-pa-pum-pum!!

Unwrapping was a special joy, of course.  More than anything else, Asa was thrilled with the sheer amount of tissue paper around him.

Late in the afternoon, we went to see cousins, who treated us to a fabulous dinner.  Asa and Riley got to renew their friendship, and shared bites of carrot and turkey between their trays.

It was a sweet, relaxed day, with phone calls and skype sessions with friends and family, and just enough under the tree to feel really blessed.

Just for Mommy

Four years ago today:

And it only gets better.

Happy Anniversary to my best friend.

More Catching Up!

Another weekend, another wonderful visit!

We managed to kidnap a couple of uncles for an overnight, made easier by their need to check out a possible wedding site down near us the following day.  (I think that we'd probably have been able to convince them anyway.)

Reading!  Snuggling!  Kisses!  What a great evening for a little boy!  All his favorite things, and two of his favorite people.  It only gets better when you learn to fake-yawn.

Our little monkey saw Uncle James yawn in the morning, and immediately imitated him... to great laughter!  And the fun of making adults to silly things in order to entice a baby!

Catching up on posts

Somewhere between preparing for Christmas, keeping Asa out of the wrapping paper, and planning for several church services, I've fallen behind on blogging.  But there's a blizzard going on outside my window, and M. is reading the very appropriate "Frosty the Snowman" to Asa, soooooo...

About two weeks ago - three? - we had a wonderful, last-minute visit from Auntie Sarah, her parents, and Uncle Kohta.  Asa delighted in the love and attention from his extended family.

We'd all be thrilled if this brunch could become a Christmas/birthday tradition (Did we say happy birthday, Grammy Linda?  We certainly meant to!).  Asa got tossed and cuddled, learned to walk up a wall (with help) and to get his feet into grown-up shoes.  He also got an early lesson in unwrapping, and impressed us all with his fishing ability - he'll be giving his cousins a run for their money sooner than later!

Blizzard Boy

We only spent about 15 minutes outside, but it was enough to make Asa glad he's a New Englander, I think.

We taught him how to make an Asa-Angel... and by taught, of course, I mean that we lay him back in the snow and moved his arms and legs appropriately.

He didn't want to come inside, even though his mittens were soaked and kept coming off.  Perhaps next time, he'll be so excited to go outside that we won't have to go through this to get there:

Or maybe not.

Merry Christmas!

As we hunker down for a very white day-after-Christmas (every time I check the weather, our projected snowfall goes up), we want to wish you all a very lovely Christmas season.

May you be as happy as a little boy with a drum, in a recently destroyed living room.

Big Shoes to Fill

Asa, in Mommy's clogs, monologues on the difficulty of walking in shoes that are several dozen sizes too big.

How many real words do you hear?





No babies were harmed in the making of these videos.

Generation to Generation

Aprons first worn by Granna and her grandmother, then by Granna and Mummy.

Sixteen Months!

Asa, you're sixteen months old!

You can walk and run, and you're beginning to talk with real words.  You still say "Cookie", although you're much more specific about it now - it's either cookies or Cookie Monster, whom you still love.  You say "Duck", and can tell us what a cat says ("mow"), what a dog says ("bo wo"), what a cow says and sometimes even what a sheep says.

You can even recognize pictures of those animals, or of Cookie Monster, and point them out to us.  You got very upset with me when I tried to tell you that it was Elmo, not Cookie, you saw in your book, and pointed out Cookie Monster with great pride.

You recognize people in pictures, now, too.  Did you know how many pictures of you we had in this house?  You still can't say your own name, but you recognize yourself, and us.

You make up games all the time, like this one of keep-away.  "Oh My Head" was also your invention, a day or so earlier.


You want to do more and more yourself.  I showed you how to dip veggies, and you took to it like a fish to water.

It made you want to use your own utensils more, too.  Sometimes it's more fun to watch the food slide off, but when you're hungry, you eat just like a big boy.


You try to drink milk out of a big-boy cup, with mixed results; you swallow a lot, but tend to submerge your nose in the process and come up sputtering and streaming.

You're making a lot of decisions on your own, for better or for worse, and you're learning which ones are yours to make, and which ones aren't.  It's an interesting age for boundaries and limits!  You understand so much of what we say, and you remember it, and get upset sometimes when plans have to change.  You know Mommy's ringtone on Mummy's cell phone, and that it means that Mommy will soon be home.

When you don't like what we're doing - like diaper changes - you shout for Nonni.

You love to read and bring us piles of books.  Favorites include "Brown Bear" and "Mommy, Mama and Me", both of which I think you know by heart.  You'll sit for long stretches of time, reading books over and over, and you've begun to look at them by yourself.  When it's not too cold out, I take off your mittens in the car and let you read to yourself.

taken at the longest stoplight in town, not while driving, of course!

You're silly.  You love to play, to be tossed in the air, to be upside down.

You have discovered your dolls and stuffed animals, and are sweet with them, giving hugs and kisses and taking them for walks.

You're still our angel.  You still love music, and dance along whenever you can.  You snuggle with us and play with my hair.  Your smile lights up our hearts, and we're so happy to watch you grow into a sweet little boy.

A Mummy's Winter Rant

Winter in New England means several things.  Winter in general means several things, but the extra-added layer of bitter cold has put us in a space that isn't just dark and heading into Christmas (on which more in a moment), but also mostly indoors.  Not that we don't ever go outside anymore - we even played on the playground this morning (and I would so have pictures for you all except that my cell phone had died without my having noticed) - but it does mean that it takes a lot longer to get there.

Note: this was taken when we got home from our morning outing.  If it had been taken when I'd first gotten him into the coat-mittens-boots-hat ensemble, it would have been a video of a screaming, crying, flailing child and I'd have been hauled in by DSS.  The irony, of course, being that I'm actually doing my child a favor by covering him up and keeping him warm on this 25°day.  25° now, mid-morning, when the sun is out, mind you.  Not at 9am when we left the house and it was flurrying.  Either way, it takes a lot to get us to leave the house anymore.

And so, on some level, I understand the parents that we see in all those indoor activities - playgroups and reading groups and indoor children's activity centers.  I understand not wanting to deal with screaming and tears and the very real possibility of getting decked in the face and having your glasses go flying across the room.

What I don't understand is the mother I saw today who had her little girl - about Asa's age - out in Crocs.  Seriously?  Crocs and dainty ankle socks?  Sneakers - that's cool, I almost had Asa in his sneakers today.  But Crocs?  I also don't understand the lack of hats and mittens.  Asa hates both with a passion unrivaled by anything I've ever seen.  But he wears both whenever I do, and after the first few minutes he copes perfectly well.

At some point, I'm pretty sure it comes down to this: we adults, we're the parents.  Our not-even-two-year-olds?  Yeah, they're not in charge.  Asa, for one, is not old enough to understand how uncomfortable he would be if outside in this weather without his warm clothes; I have serious doubts that any of his contemporaries are much more advanced in that realm.  Which is why we adults are around - to be the responsible ones.

Or not, apparently.  In winter weather - or at Christmas, from what I can tell - the kids are in charge.  I won't even go into the gifts that some of Asa's fellow not-yet-twos are going to be receiving from Santa this year.  I'm pretty sure that they won't actually notice, and will love the huge gifts more for the equally huge boxes and amounts of wrapping paper... and, if they're really lucky, packing peanuts!

I know I sound Grinchy, but I find it heartbreaking that so many parents - people I see on a regular basis, even - have abdicated adult responsibility.  That so many people have caved to their kids who don't like to wear hats or mittens; have caved to the cultural myth that the child who doesn't have the newest, coolest gadget/toy/experience is never going to go to Harvard.

And now I think I'll go spend a little time with my son, maybe to read Brown Bear (since he seems to have it in his hand).  Not to drill him on his colors, as a couple mothers I've talked to recently admit to doing with their 16-month-olds - that's a post for another day.  Just to snuggle him close and do something we both enjoy... inside.  And then maybe we can watch the snow fall.

Reading to Himself

An independent study of Baby Sign Language.

It ended when Asa tore out the page showing the sign for "Baby".  As sign that he has moved into Toddlerhood?  Or that he'd prefer to remain an only child?  Only Asa knows.

Haircut!

Well, just the bangs, because they were getting in his eyes.  Especially with his warm winter hat, which has been particularly necessary recently.

It's a subtle change, for sure, but he looks more and more like a boy, and less and less like a baby.  Now, off to trim those little long hairs that I missed the first time.

And What Happened To It...

The sticker nativity set from church, as assembled (and disassembled, and reassembled) by Asa.

Decapitated cow, Mary under the manger, upside-down sheep, camel on Joseph's head.  At one point the shepherd lay, armess and without his crook, upon Mary.  You can still see some of his crook there, in fact.  But M. decided that that might not be appropriate to this family blog, and took the liberty of altering the piece.  Questioning the artist's expression... sometimes, the Mom outweighs the artist in her, I guess.

Church Bazaar

Every year, our church has a Bazaar, the likes of which I have never before seen.  Nearly every space in the building is used, and it's not a small building.  Silent Auction, White Elephant, Kids' White Elephant, Books, Greenery, Ornaments...

A display of Nativity Sets, including sticker-sets for the little ones:

Photos with Santa!  (Who is, apparently, terrifying to a 15-month-old.  This was the closest he'd get.)

We also got to spend a little bonus time with Auntie Jess, after getting together for Hanukkah the previous evening.  Her hair is as good for stroking as Mummy's apparently, and a lot more convenient.

We also got our tree!  I had had my eye on one particular tree all week, and so we arrived early to nab it.  Apparently, other church members also arrived early to nab that same tree, but we were just a little quicker.  Who knew buying a Christmas tree could be so competitive?  Asa was very interested in the tree-prep process (as seen through our kitchen window and storm window):

The tree is now up and decorated - a process which took place after a little boy's bedtime.  He woke up in the morning to a lit and sparkling tree, and whispered, "Wooooow."

Our first Christmas miracle.

Reading with Grampa

Moo, Baa, La La La, in case you were wondering.

Where there is a theme, there are photos to be taken.

One of the first baby gifts we got - thanks Uncle Jacob! - has gone from just a bath towel to a fun costume.  And as I blogged this, with Asa on my lap, he just kept saying, "Cookie! Oogie!  Googie!"  Whatever the first consonant, or lack thereof, there is a love affair going on at our house.