It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I LOVE DECEMBER 24th!! To me it's the best day of the whole year. From the first thing in the morning until I finally collapse into bed, I'm like a young child filled with excitement and anticipation. There are so many fun things to do:


1) Complete last-minute shopping. Check.


2) Be surprised by friends bearing gifts. Check.


3) Squeal with delight when Christmas guests arrive. Check.


4) Dress for success. Check.


5) Prepare the traditional cheese ball. Check.



6) Eat said cheese ball (as well as the rest of the delicious meal) by candlelight. Check.

7) Dress up in costumes and act out the Nativity. Check. (Okay, we didn't actually dress up this year. Someone doesn't like wearing costumes. Or clothes, apparently.)

8) Don we now our gay apparel. Or at least our new Christmas Eve pajamas. Check.

We usually drive around looking at the Christmas lights (in our pajamas), but the little ones were too tired. So we put them to bed and got things ready for Santa to come. And after the big people went to bed, I started wrapping gifts. (A little behind this year due to the play our family was in. More about that later.)

What a great day -- I love December 24th!!

Dixie

Our Christmas Tree

I was recently inspired by a woman whom I've never met, but whose blog I regularly read. Her home looked absolutely amazing with her many trees and beautiful decorations. How I would love to be able to produce that same effect in my home. But, alas, I'm afraid that's never going to happen.

We usually decorate the tree on the first Monday evening of December, but since the last day of November fell on a Monday, The Mr. and Daughter #3 felt we should make a break from tradition this year so we wouldn't have to wait any longer. I had been busy all day Monday, and when I arrived home at suppertime, there was Daughter #3 busy getting the tree set up, adjusting branches and "fluffing" twigs. How she maneuvered that heavy thing out of the storage room and up the stairs is beyond me, but apparently she didn't want to waste any time.

Every year I have suggested that we decorate our tree in a specific color or with a specific theme, but every year I get shut down. ("Why would we want to do that? We've got all these great decorations!") So every year our tree looks pretty much the same as the last - with the exception of the current year's new ornaments added to the mix.

When the kids were little I started the tradition of purchasing an ornament for each of them each year, so that by the time they left home, they would have a few ornaments of their own to hang on their tree until they could afford to get their own decorations. I still remember the first ones I ever got for Daughter #1 and Daughter #2 - little porcelain girls dressed in Christmas colors. Now that they have families of their own, those little ornaments are long gone from my household, but I still think of them with fondness every time we decorate the tree. Sniff. But I digress...

So, this year was no different from the rest. Daughter #3 still didn't want me put on the ribbon garland I purchased about 7 years ago (and have never once been able to use), because "that would take too long." We started placing the ornaments on the tree. Even though our decorations are an eclectic mix of old, new, homemade, and slightly ugly, we place them on our tree with a lot of love and warm memories. Here are a few we've collected over the years:


This was for Son #1A. It was given the year he took guitar lessons.



The December that Daughter #2 got married, the rest of us cut out tons of paper snowflakes to use as wedding decorations. Each child got a different style of snowflake that year to remind us of the many hours we spent in that pursuit.



Earlier this year Daughter #3 went to West Edmonton Mall and tryed riding a segway for the first time. She loved it so much that she came home thinking we needed to get one. So this was for her this year.



Son #1B spent a lot of time during Junior and Senior High School as a "Hope Kid" - an organization where teenagers spend one day a week with Senior Citizens to bring them hope. This was one of the crafts they worked on together.



Several years ago I saw these foil fans in a craft store and decided to make some of my own. At the time they were kinda cute, but of course are very outdated now. I was surprised to find out just this year, that The Mr. really likes them, and in fact, it's the only ornaments that he puts on the tree each year. Who knew?



When Daughter #3 was a "Sunbeam" at church. Her teacher had each of the children bring a picture of themselves to class, and then helped them make these little gifts to give to their parents. I not only have fond memories of my daughter at that stage of her life, but it brings back fond memories for her teacher, as well.



Here's one that Son #1A made at church when he was about nine. He can't stand it and never wants to bring it out of his ornament sack. But every year we sneak it out and hang it in the most prominent place on the tree just to embarrass him.



This is one of the first ornaments I could ever find that depicted the nativity. So, of course I love it. I always hoped it would help my children remember the reason for the season.



This little penguin was give to Daughter #3 when she was in grade four by a little boy she had a crush on. Every year when she brings it out we hear a little sigh. ("Aww, Morgan.")



Our tree is never going to win any awards. In fact I'm sometimes embarrassed by it when certain women come into our home. (You know, the ones whose homes are perfect.) But, all in all, I love to look at it when the lights are on. I love to look at each decoration and recall the different memories it elicits. But I especially love to know that it's because of my wonderful family that it looks the way it does.


I love you guys!

Dixie (or should I say "Mom")

Kristi

When Daughter #2 was in high school she acquired a new friend by the name of Kristi. Kristi was the type of person who was immediately likable -- she didn't require any "get-to-know-me" time. She enjoyed having fun. A lot of fun. In fact, there were some who said (okay, I said it) that she was a little silly. But that's what I liked about her. She and Daughter #2 did a lot of crazy things during their high school years. Kristi got married young and had twins within the year. I remember saying, "I can't believe Kristi's going to be a mother!"

We've only seen Kristi a few times over the years, so imagine how surprised and happy we were when she showed up at church and told us she and her husband Dave, and their three kids, were moving into our ward. We could hardly wait to have them over for dinner. I was curious to see what kind of mother Kristi would be. What would her husband be like? What would her kids be like? We were not disappointed: they were all so happy, helpful and, yes, a little silly.

After dinner Kristi entertained us with crazy stories about her and Daughter #2. We also played a few riotous table games. This was the perfect crowd for "PIT" -- except for that one person who kept cheating!!




I love these guys!

Dixie

Happy Birthday Daughter #2

How could this sweet little girl be 26 years old already? And how could her mother forget to wish her a happy birthday the first time she called her today? Hope this little birthday pictorial makes up for it.


Christmas morning - 5 years old.


She always wanted to be a mother.


First day of Kindergarten with Daughter #1.


Baptismal Day.


Grade Six.


About Grade Eight.


Grade Ten.


Visiting from college.


On her wedding day (obviously).


With her whole family.

And my personal favorite:


Weighing in at 97 pounds after her long stint in and out of the hospital. We thought a little dip into the tickle trunk would boost her spirits.

Happy birthday, sweetie! Love, ya!



Dixie

CFR

It was that time of year again -- the Canadian Finals Rodeo here in Edmonton. Many of the businesses in town get into the spirit of things by having their employees dress in western clothing, throwing a bale of hay and a saddle into the corner of their reception area, or hanging a banner to welcome the rodeo contestants to town. Even the newspaper has an entire section devoted to all things rodeo. Our family has never really gotten into the whole western culture, but we had some visitors who really have.

Kim and Mel, along with their two youngest children, Clint and Whitney, came to stay with us for a couple of days. The purpose of their visit: to go to the rodeo. They had some really good seats and were able to catch two nights of rodeo action. I got a kick out of this scenario when I woke up the next morning:




Clint and Whitney are really into the rodeo scene, competing almost every weekend. In fact, they're to the point where they've started to win some serious money and prizes. I'm sure that one of these days we'll be going to the CFR to watch them competing with the big guns. I may even have to let The Mr. get those boots and hat he's been talking about.

Dixie

Wouldn't It Be Nice?

Early this morning I took The Mr. to the hospital for a little pre-scheduled day surgery. For as long as I've known him, he's had a lump on his left shoulder. Every time he sees a doctor, they always want to send him in to have it tested. For cancer maybe? And every time the results come back, it's always the same thing: a fat deposit. So finally this latest doctor decided that it should be cut out. So that's what I took him in for today. Just in and out in a couple of hours to get the fat cut out! As I was talking on the phone to Daughter #2 about this, she said, "Wouldn't it be nice? To just have all your fat deposited in one little area, and then just go in to have it cut out."

I could live with that!




Feel better soon, honey!

Dixie

Cheap Therapy

I have a phobia. Okay, actually I have several, but I'm only going to talk about one of them. It's something that's been bothering me for a long time, and I think it's getting worse every year. Maybe when I see it in writing, I'll realize I'm just being silly and be able to get over. So, really, this is just the cheapskate in me coming out. I don't want to have to fork over big bucks to a therapist. So here goes...

I'm afraid of Halloween. There. I said it. Now, just to be clear, I'm not afraid of witches or zombies or vampires or any of the ghoulish things that might be lurking in the dark. Quite frankly, I don't believe in them. I think what I'm actually afraid of is the possibility of ruining everyone else' excitement by my lack of zest for the occasion.

As a child I quite looked forward to Halloween. I somehow was able to overlook the cold and the dark to enjoy donning one of the silly costumes my mom had in her "tickle trunk" and go trick-or-treating with my friends. But something has happened over the years, to the point that I start to feel nervous about mid October, with the feeling escalating each day, until at last I feel a sense of great relief on November 1. As I've thought about it this past little while, I think I've pinpointed the exact day my feelings for Halloween started to change.

A little over 21 years ago The Mr. and I were blessed with twin sons. When they were first born they slept all the time, so I figured life was still pretty easy. I suppose that is why I agreed to be the MC for the Halloween parade at our daughters' school in just a few short weeks. By the time those few weeks rolled around, these little babies had woken up, demanding all my attention, and I found it ridiculously challenging to get anything accomplished.

The dad who had been the MC the previous year did a really great job - fantastic costume, witty quips, great interaction with the audience. He was a tough act to follow. Not wanting to disappoint, I had put a lot of pressure on myself to be just as entertaining as he was. That was a bad idea. After all, he wasn't breastfeeding twins. 24 HOURS A DAY!!

October 31st rolled around, and things weren't going well. The boys were fussy, and not eating properly, I barely got the girls out the door with a semblance of a costume, I hadn't had a chance to get in the shower. In days. I still hadn't finished my witty poems that I was writing about several of the staff and students to fill the silence as they marched through the gym. It was time to leave for the school even though the babies hadn't finished eating (strike one), and my costume wasn't complete (strike two), and my poems weren't finished (strike three).

Arriving at the school a few minutes late, my babies were foisted upon some previously designated volunteers, and I rushed into the gym. All eyes were upon me as I took my place. I knew what they were thinking: "Too bad her costume's not nearly as good as Mr. Mantika's from last year." I stumbled through my poems (and then proceeded to make up more on the spot when I ran out), all the while reading their thoughts: "I wonder why they asked her to be the MC. She's not nearly as clever as Mr. Mantika."

Thankfully, the program was over. I quickly left to pick up my (screaming) babies who were needing to eat, and then made a quick get-a-way, disappointed with my poor performance. Having their needs met, I put the boys - and myself - down for a well-deserved nap. That was short lived, however, when I realized that in all my confusion the last few days I had forgotten to purchase any Halloween candy. I woke the boys to put them in the stroller (the car was in the repair shop) and race to the store before the girls got home from school. Now, don't ask me how this happened, but there was absolutely no candy left. None! I decided I would have to make Halloween cookies to pass out. It was a lot of work, but after several hours, I got them done and individually wrapped, and they looked really cute! Now, I know what you're thinking, but honestly, it didn't even cross my mind. After all this was 21 years ago.

Well, it was time for the trick-or-treating to start, the babies were tired of being neglected, and I was still trying to get supper on the table. The girls were anxious to leave the house, but I was determined they had to eat something healthy before all that sugar. Finally, looking so cute in their "witch" and "businessman" costumes, they started out on their own (yeah, yeah, I know. But again, this was 21 years ago, in a small town, where we knew all our neighbors). Soon they came home visibly upset. It turns out one of our neighbors had scolded Daughter #1 because she was wearing a witch costume, and she "shouldn't be worshipping the devil and all his forms of evil". So instead of giving them candy, the lady gave them little cards with bible verses printed on them. Needless to say they weren't in the mood to do anymore trick-or-treating. And then to make matters worse, one of the kids who came trick-or-treating to our house looked at the cookies, and said "Everyone's just going to throw those in the garbage, you know. We're not supposed to accept things that don't come from the store." I turned away quickly so she wouldn't see me crying. All in all, it was a horrible day.

So, there it is. I really do think that was the beginning of my resentment towards Halloween. I feel like I let everyone down that fateful day. And I kind of think that's why I've dreaded it ever since.

I haven't bought any Halloween candy yet this year, and October 31 is only two days away. Interestingly, I think writing this down really has been theraputic. I should probably go to the store right away.

Dixie

Hippie Love

On Friday night our family attended our church Halloween party. I have to admit, I'm not crazy about Halloween - the dark, the cold, and especially the gruesome - but I do enjoy the dressing up part. And since this party was being held indoors, it seemed like a good fit. The Mr. isn't as enthusiastic about dressing up as I am, so I was a little hesitant to initiate this conversation:

"Honey, would you like to go to the church Halloween party?"

"Sure."

"Would you be willing to dress up with me?"

"Okay."

"Really? Like you'll wear a wig and everything?"

"Sure."

Wow, that was a lot easier than I anticipated. I figured once I showed him the costume I'd come up with, he'd change his mind. But he didn't. Even when I told him he'd have to come to the church by himself with his costume on (because the kids and I would already be there for a play rehearsal) he was still okay with it! And he wore it the entire evening without altering anything. How could I not love this guy.?
And, contrary to popular belief by our fellow church members, we didn't really dress like this when we were teenagers. Please. We're not that old.

Dixie

Closet Cowgirl??

I recently took a trip to visit Daughter #1 and her family. Leaving The Mr. and my three youngest at home, I hit the dusty trail. Okay, it wasn't exactly dusty; it was, in fact, raining - and then snowing - the whole way. But the depressing weather is not what concerned me. I have bigger issues to deal with.

When I travel alone I love to crank up the radio and sing along. The more familiar I am with the song, the louder I sing - and the faster I drive. You know what I'm talking about. I normally have my car radio set to a local station that plays soft rock/pop, and that's what I was singing along to as I started on my five-hour journey. After about an hour I realized this station was getting fuzzy, and starting to grate on my nerves. As I fiddled with the dial to find another station, imagine my surprise - not to mention disappointment - when I realized the only station I could pick up in this remote area was a country station!

Now, I have nothing against country music (or western folk, for that matter), it's just that I've never been part of that crowd and, to be honest, never had a desire to be. I grew up in a small town where the high school students sorted themselves into the usual groups: stoners, cowboys, honor students, jocks, etc. Since I had no desire to fit in with the first two groups, and no talent to fit in with the last two, it seemed natural that I got involved in the only thing that was left - student leadership. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is that I've pretty much stuck to that mold, never experiencing much out of my comfort zone - including country music. Back to my story...

As I continued my travels, I listened to one country song after another, all the while thinking I was just "putting up" with this kind of music until I could receive a different radio signal. Well, at one point I happened to notice that my thumbs were tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel. (I ignored that, assuming I had some kind of twitch.) A few moments later I realized my shoulders were swaying. What was that about? After all, I don't like county music. As I checked the speedometer, I realized I was going WAY to fast. Huh?? That only happens when I really like the song I'm listening to. What was that song? Something about three rounds with Jose Cuervo. (And, no, I don't condone this particular kind of behavior, but it really did have a fun beat.) Well, as the next couple of hours passed I tried to suppress my prejudice. I decided I kind of liked country music. Kind of. I listened to one song after another getting more and more into it, until at one point I caught myself singing at the top of my lungs, "...straw hats and old dirty hankies..." What? How did I even know those words? I was really getting worried.

Luckily, the signal for this station was starting to break up, and I found another one. Oh, good, it was something I'm comfortable with. As if to prove something to myself, I energetically sang along to "The Boys in the Bright White Sports Car", followed by "Mambo Number Five" and "Hey There, Delilah". I was really getting into it. And then, as a sort of special tribute to my high school roots, I belted out every single word to "I Will Survive!" Phew! I was back to normal. I knew it was just a temporary setback.

I'm not saying that I'll never listen to country music again. I probably will. But if The Mr. thinks I'm gonna let him get that cowboy hat and pair of boots he's been wanting for the last 20 years, he can think again!

Dixie