Hear the wind blow your nose

Ken

 Dah. I'd been doing so well at this blogging-more-regular thing. Then December hit, and I think it's official: Mom, Dad, Sam, Georgia and I have been sick for a month straight. You name it: Stomach bugs to ear infections and lung-popping coughs to cold viruses, I think we've had it all. Sweet lord. I say we pay someone to deep-clean our house while jet setting to some place warm for a week. Hawaii, anyone?

The good news is that the new year is less than 12 hours from now, Mom and I feel like rock stars, and things are bound to look up! So, in an effort to spread holiday cheer without spreading our germs, here's an excerpt from Mom's Christmas letter. Happy holidays, everyone!


December 17, 2012

... Adam, Ken, Sam, Georgia and I have been skipping along to these December days with anticipation unmatched in previous years. There’s something to be said for unwrapping the holidays alongside two toddlers and a baby.

Ken, Georgia, Sam

Three-year-old Ken last week fessed up to his flushing a matchbox car down the toilet. I’ll be darned. All this time, I’d been told that Sam had done it. So, while Adam and I continue to hope that an 89-cent toy from Target doesn't turn into a massive home repair project, Ken continues to display his new found understanding of cause and effect. All things flushed are deemed never to return. And blaming the kid brother for a lost matchbox car is best not to be done again. He’s quick to laugh, loves to sing along to the “grit-tar,” and his sense of responsibility permeates almost every action: from regretting his car flushing to ensuring the safety and well-being of his kid brother and sister. We adore him.

Georgia

The final days of June this year welcomed baby Georgia – affectionately known by her brothers as “Baby G.” Sitting tall at almost six months old, our best baby girl continues to dazzle all of us with her nasally giggle,
her long eyelashes and her uncanny ability to drool over anything that stands still. She seems happy with her independence: learning to hold her own bottle, sit in her own chair, and eat her own rice cereal. And yet every day, amid her scent of milk and innocence, Georgia reminds me that there is humble peace found in letting others do for you. It’s so easy to be in love with her.

Sam

Sam. This week, he cheerfully assisted with the hanging of the Christmas tree ornaments as well as the five stockings across our fireplace mantel. Each stocking sports the first initial of our first names, and Sam proudly sings each letter – A, M, K, S, G – in a perfect pentatonic scale. He loves to sing, looks at you strangely if you’re singing along, but out of tune, and could curl up with a good book and handful of animal crackers all day long. His two-year-old self is beginning to stretch; he’s losing the baby pudge around his wrists. His stormy blue eyes have turned a hazel brown, and every day we watch him as he whistles along: gabbing around Baby G and towing after Brother Ken. Our hearts: stolen.

Adam and I are doing well, too. I’m happily challenged at work by day and keeping up with the family by night. As time and discipline permit, I find my nose in a book, a pen to my blog and a minivan pointed in the direction of my sister’s house. Adam continues to manage the household by day, and complete his undergrad degree by night. He succeeds in balancing the behavior-shaping needs of our offspring with a variety of talent-driven hobbies. Never have we eaten so well, listened to such tuned ivories, viewed such quality photography, and sipped such solid home-brew. He treats me like gold, and every day I’m proud to be the wife and life-long witness to someone of such wicked-smart humor and humble courage.

Dad & Mom

Despite the glamour of the above paragraphs, I’m discovering that we’re still pretty ordinary. We eat too much, exercise too little, watch some TV every night, and snap at each other once in a while. Our kids throw temper tantrums, say no to us, and sometimes refuse to eat their dinner. Our house is drafty in the winter, creaky in the summer, and plugged with at least one matchbox car. But here’s the thing: We’re lovin’ life. It’s become an interesting balance of extraordinary loves within an ordinary life. And this Christmas season, our hope is that you, too, can embrace your extraordinary loves within your own ordinary life.

Merry Christmas!