Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Christmas Gifts

Hannah -you started this tradition with me the Christmas you were two years old. That year we hand made gifts for you to give out to all of our family. We spent so long pressing fimo clay into tiny little tin containers with glass lids. Each one got a red ribbon on it so that you could hang the little ornament on your tree, showing off the tiny little snowman inside. You are such an artist that you guide the creative side of the projects now as much as I do. You and I do these handmade gifts every year with Sadie. Last year we made hand rolled bees wax candles with such success that we brought the project back this year. I like them because they can be used to help celebrate the season in the household of whoever is lucky to receive one from you both. They burn beautifully.

This year while we were making them I had an off cut from a sheet of bees wax that was a bit bigger than the other ones. I rolled it up myself and said "Here, this one can be for us. We can burn it on Christmas eve. For Baby Jesus!" We continued to roll a few more and after each one we remembers someone else that we wanted to give a gift to. "This one is for Cam." "This one is for Grandma." " This one is for Joshie." Then I heard one little voice beside me say "This one's for Nana." The little voice on my other side chimed in "We'll burn it for her with God in heaven."

I can't believe I was worried about this Christmas going by without a proper sense of celebration.

What's Your "Self Number"?

Sadie- you continue to amaze me with how you can cut directly to the point with so few words. You have always placed phone calls to my Mum since she passed away in March. It was so sweet when you started doing that. I am so happy for every day that goes by without you and Hannah forgetting her. Recently though, you have added an imaginative layer to this sweet homage to Nana. You always flip open your toy cell phone and ask me for Nana's "Self Number'. The first few times it happened I tried to correct you. "Do you want her cell phone number?" But you always insisted that it was her "Self Number" that you required to place your call. I always give you the phone number we had when we were growing up. "237-3775". You place the call and then pass me the phone "It's your Mum." I always have a nice conversation with Nana about how we are all doing so well and we miss her and then pass the phone back to you. "She wants to say hi to you." You usually just say "Bye Nana". I guess you know it's me who needs to talk to someone.

This picture was taken on the day of your first "parent presentation" at LynnAnne's dance studio. I am hoping to keep feeding your creative side for as long as necessary - please don't grow out of your imagination. You are in the front row -the only one holding your skirt out in a curtsy.

Friday, December 12, 2008

Christmas 2008

Here comes Christmas. Am I ever glad I have two girls to show me how to celebrate this year. I have always loved Christmas time. My parents filled the month of December with so much magic that I can't help but get excited every December 1st when I hang the advent calendar for you both. It doesn't matter that the pockets no longer contain treats intended for me. I am actually MORE thrilled to hear your squeals when you run to the calendar each morning than I was when I was the one running to see what the fuzzy felt pocket each day in December. Last week I set up the nativity scene that sat on the mantel at my house when I grew up. It's sitting in front of me now on our fireplace mantel. I can't tell you how many times I re-arranged that scene each holiday season growing up. It was like my Christmas doll house. I am so glad to have it here at our house this year. As Christmas Eve approaches, I have a bit of anxiety about how to keep the magic alive but I think I am missing the point to magic, aren't I? The magic comes to me through you. I'm not sure why or how it will come, but I know that when dusk falls on that night, where ever we are, who ever else we are with, it will be great. I have 35 magic Christmases under my belt as proof. Now it's time for us to look forward to the abundance of magic in the air that follows us everywhere we go.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Children (this passage makes me weep - in the good way!

From The Prophet by Khalil Gibran

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Friday, July 11, 2008

Birthday-palooza 2008

It's 36 hours until we host our third annual Picnic in The Park (or my living room....or picnic at Dada's work, depending on the weather). I have indoor games (just in case) and outdoor games and cakes. I have ordered pizza and ice creams. I have lists and schedules and spreadsheets. I am ready to celebrate your births in the biggest way I can. We are expecting more than 60 people, 30 of which are under-aged. It's gonna be big and bold and memorable.

I love you both to bits. Happy birthday my sweet things.

Hamburger anyone?

"It doesn't matter whether you want a hamburger for dinner tomorrow night. All that matters is the people who are gone and the people who are still here." a quote from Hannah, age 6.

Nana died. Poor Nana." a quote from Sadie, age 2.5

Thank you both for continuing to remind me of what matters.