Holiday Hangover

I have never been a drinker but over these last few days, I think I have figured out what a hangover must feel like. Mornings come to quickly and my eyes refuse to crack open no matter how much effort I put into it. My body is groggy and moving more robotic than fluid. My daily routine has become much harder although nothing has changed. I find myself looking at the clock and seeing that it is noon already and my house looks the same as it did the night before. I collapse in arm chairs and let out a loud sigh of exhaustion every hour, on the hour. I spend my time trying to deprogram Tylie from thinking there is a party every night or that every knock on our door is another friend bringing us a special treat. I talk myself breathless trying to convince her that treats are not a main food group and that Santa really had gone home for the year, no matter how many cookies she leaves out- he is not coming back. I had tried to snap myself out of it by taking down the tree, throwing the wrapping paper away, and restraining myself from making more wassail. I guess my body just knows that this is the hardest time of the year for me. The excitement is gone. There is nothing there to push off the depression of the miserable cold. This is the time of the year that I have to hunker down and be patient. I have to remind myself that the sun will come out again and this ice, outside and in my heart, will melt away. I don't know why we pack the holidays so close together, just to leave the other months left wanting for something to be known for. In 3 months we pack in Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year's. Was this some kind of sick joke to make kids go into a sugar coma? Maybe it was the best thing the forefathers could come up with since they didn't have Benadryl yet. Who knows- All I know is that this time of year is rough. I just have to grit my teeth and bear it. Until then, I will sip on my hot chocolate and watch my gas bill rise. And while I am sitting there waiting for the ice to melt, I am going to think up a stupid holiday to put in January to give it a better name!

Family Ritual

I try really hard to create fun family activities so we can spend time together on the nights that Jake is home. I spend hours pouring over internet site looking at all the family night ideas. I look for recipes of fun little treats that we can make together. I am even willing to shrug off my "uncrafty" facade and break out the scissors and glue to make a fun board game so we can all gather around the table and giggle at one another. When I put in all this hard work, it is sometimes disappointing when my little ideas turn out to be a flop. It frustrates me so bad when Tylie won't pay attention, when Jake flops on the couch because he is tired and he makes Tylie roll the dice for him, or when Mason consistently attacks whatever we are doing and sends Tylie into a rage of frustration.
I learned a long time ago that sometimes no matter how much work I put into things, they are not always going to turn out like a picture taken right out of the Ensign. You know what I am talking about- the family that are dressed in their Sunday clothes for family night. The parents are perched on the couch holding a picture of the temple. The children are gathered around their feet, arms folded, smiling intently, soaking in every word that comes out of their parents mouths. The house is perfectly in order and the mom looks like she just got home from the salon and not a hair is out of place. I pray for these kind of moments but I also live in the real world. I learned to continue to strive for these moments but to take the moments that I am given and enjoy them. These moments have been quite prevalent in my home lately and they can all be attributed to one silly activity.
When Jake comes home at night, he always heads right up the stairs to change before we have dinner. I often follow him so he can tell me about his day and since we are both up there, we are sure to have two little ones right on our hills. It is very common to find the whole family gathered in our room every night. Jake usually turns on the stereo and cranks the music. This irritates me because I feel that I cannot talk to him while 70s rock ballads are screaming in my ear. The other night I walked over and turned it off so I could genuinely respond to the conversation we were having instead of looking like a bobble head on a dash board with a smile painted on her face bobbing her head as if she knows exactly what you are talking about. Mason immediately walked over to the stereo and tried to reach up. He turned and looked at me- the look that says "I want you to fix this mom- get over here!" I thought that he just wanted to push buttons, so I picked him up so he could punch at them for a minute. As we talked, he got more and more irritated. Then Jake turned the music back on. Mason immediately wiggled out of my arms and started dancing in circles. We thought this was funny which means Tylie needed to get in on the action and get some of the attention. The next thing we knew, we were all dancing around our room like fools. The music was cranked to epic proportions and we were pulling out moves I didn't know I had. All for the pleasure of two little beings that don't know the difference between elegance and clumsiness.
Every night since, Mason chases Jake up the stairs and resumes his position under the stereo until Jake turns it on and the dance contest begins. I love watching Mason's face light up when he hears the beat. I love watching Tylie jump on the bed with the excuse that it is dancing. I love watching Jake bop around the room with Mason in his arms. I love flinging myself around without a care in the world that someone will see me and laugh. I guess when Tylie and Mason grow up, they will not remember quite nights in the living room and sweet lemonade and cookies waiting on the table. They will have very different memories of their parents being quite crazy and obnoxious. But when we are dancing there is a feeling of love and unity. We are together. That is what they will remember and I couldn't ask for any more than that.

This is the cold

This is the cold.
This is the cold that makes your breath cut short when you walk outside.

This is the cold that freezes your pipes in the morning so that your husband cannot take a warm shower in the morning before he leaves to work.
This is the cold that makes you day dream of the warm January days in California.

This is the cold that makes your mind go fuzzy enough to think that it is a good idea to go into in the miserable mess and stare at twinkling lights intricately woven through tree branches.

This is the cold that makes your nose hairs stick together and makes your ears turn shades of red you never thought possible.

This is the cold that makes you want to scream when you realize you forgot the cups for hot choclate that you hoped would warm everyone up.

This is the cold that makes you love your car more and more every day- not for the four wheel drive, not for the snow tires, but for the heated seats that cook your buns and make you feel that warm sensation that you never thought you could enjoy.

This is the cold that brings you to your knees in gratitude that you have a warm home, with a warm furnace and a glowing fireplace and warm beds to tuck the kids in bed at night.

This is the cold. It causes my nightmares. Thank goodness for seasons. This too shall pass.