I Don't Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas

For pretty much every year of my adult life the adults in my family have struggled with what to do for one another when it comes to Christmas. The basic conversation revolves around whether or not to give gifts to one another and what exactly that should entail.

Perhaps I should sum up better than that: none of us needs anything. None of us (Kelly and Jimmers sometimes excluded) wants anything. And yet... all of us enjoy giving to one another. Christmas morning is kind of a bust with nothing to open (this is theory as it has never been proven. Honestly, I wouldn't mind just drinking coffee and eating julekake one year and seeing how it goes. I have a feeling it would still be Christmas. And man, if the coffee was unlimited... what a Christmas it would be! *gasp* OR next year everyone gets one gift: roller-skates! And then we take to the streets!).

So, this year we made up a new approach: no one is allowed to buy anything anything for any adults in extended family. Everyone is giving gifts to everyone, but all gifts must be something you already have in your house or made from supplies you have on hand.

The idea was one originally come up with as a way to encourage grandparents to pass along attic treasures that could be used/loved/displayed rather than sitting in boxes. But something wonderfully unexpected has happened: I've discovered a new level of generosity is involved in this type of giving.

Because there isn't anything of mine in our house that I don't want.

Yes, really. I get rid of anything I don't want. Pretty much the minute I don't want it. Which is why I have no winter clothes this year as last summer I got rid of them all. Genius.

So, that means I will have to be generous. And it's exciting! I can't reveal what I'm giving anyone as they all check my blog (or saaay they do...) and to be honest I'm not entirely sure what everyone will get, BUT I have to give generously as I have nothing to give from my home that I don't want. I won't be bringing a box of cast-off crapola to dump on someone else. I will be hand-selecting things that I see as treasures from my own home in hopes that someone else will see their value and treasure them as well. *wow* This is an unexpected result of something I thought would just be a fun zany new Christmas experience.

hmmm... I wonder how Trent is going to feel when I give him one of our cats...

"Bye-Bye Crib"

Carolena, July 2011

Carolena, December 2011

Nils and Carolena, June 2015

Nils and Carolena, June 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

"Bye-Bye, Crib! Bed! Bed! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you! Bed! Bed! Thank you, Daddy! Bed!"

Nils, December 2015

So far, it seems to me, if I fully enjoy and appreciate and pay attention during each phase of life, then with the passing into the next I do not feel sadness. We took down the crib yesterday for the last time and I feel nothing but joy and happiness for our little Nils. Our nursery furniture was a generous gift from Chris' brother's family. It was the crib that held our niece and nephew. I remember picking it up from them while they apologized for Isabel's bite marks along its edges. I loved the bite marks. I loved them the entire time our crib was in use. It was a tangible reminder of the children this crib has held - cousins bonded together.

The crib is in the garage now. Nils has been politely (and sometimes not so politely) asking for a bed for some time now. I finally realized he is ready. He's known for a while that he is ready. I just took a little convincing. I was worried that he would be up all hours of the night prowling around his room. I'm sure nights like that will come, but his first night (last night) went exceedingly well. He was indeed ready.

Carolena, being the fabulous big sister she has proven herself to be time and time again, got in on the excitement and insisted that Nils borrow some of her sheets and comforter until he gets his own. I think, perhaps, this was best for Nils - better even than having gotten his own things right off the bat. The two kids bounced off the walls in excitement over the new bed, Nils' eyes lit in pride as he exclaimed over and over, "Bed! Bed! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you!!" and as soon as Chris got home Nils (ran for a tortilla chip and then) yelled, "Thank you bed Daddy!"

How could I be sad over putting the crib into the garage? It was time.

Soon, we'll pick up the dresser from my parents' house. We'll get the rest of Nils' room into "big boy" shape. And when that happens, the nursery furniture will find a new home- a home ready to welcome a new baby, hopefully a new baby who will ease in the pain of new teeth by putting more bite marks along its edges.

A Twilight Zone Christmas

If Carolena is the second to wake up, we like to get snuggled up together in my favorite chair (yes, I'm an old man and have "my arm chair") and gaze at our Christmas tree. One morning Carolena pointed out a particular ornament that my brother-in-law painted for me a few years ago. It is one of the very best gifts I've ever received and depicts Chris in clericals, me in a Donna Reid-esk red dress, and a small pink bundle in my arms.

"I like that ornament of you and Daddy" Carolena said and then she pointed to the one Bryan made last year in which our family has two kids standing with Chris and me, "and I like the one with me and Nils in it too."

"Look again at the first one" I told her, "I'm holding something. What do you think I could be holding?"

Without getting up to look at the ornament she guessed, "Meeko?" (her stuffed animal raccoon)

"Nope. I'm holding a baby in a pink blanket"I replied, "Who might have been a baby in a pink blanket that I held at Christmas time?"

She thought a moment and then in a very firm voice replied in all childhood sincerity: "Aunt Kelly."

If You Give Casey a Nativity Scene

If you give a mouse a cookie, she'll want a glass of milk.

People always check out nativity scenes.

And then people always look back up from mine and glare at me in shock. "Why is baby Jesus already in your manger?! It isn't Christmas yet!" and sometimes they even go so far as to start shuffling magi farther "east."

It happens every year. Every. Single. Year.
Evidently this is something akin to being a Grinch before his heart expands a bit. *gasp* Baby Jesus in the manger from the get-go! The horror!
And I don't know what I usually say, but it isn't this:

If baby Jesus isn't in the manger and the wisemen wait until Epiphany to get there... THEN...

Then why are Mary and Joseph there? Shouldn't they be traveling?

And if I remove Mary and Joseph too, then we've just got a nativity with shepherds milling about.
BUT WAIT!

If I'm planning to put wisemen in the nativity then there shouldn't even be any shepherds. Because if I have magi tucked away to make their grand entrance for Epiphany then we're going with Matthew's version of the nativity so it's a no-go on shepherds. And, actually, if that's the case, and I have a Matthean nativity scene then it isn't a manger scene at all! Matthew says magi visit the "house" (2:11). Hmmm... so if I'm going with wisemen then we ditch the entire manger gig all together. BUT...

But if I'm sticking with a Lucan nativity then we'll go with a manger scene... and instead toss the magi and bright star. BUT THEN the shepherds don't arrive until AFTER Jesus' birth so now we just have an empty barn. Except that people didn't have barns like we think of barns, they kept animals in little caves in the hillside so I've got to find a big rock and carve that out instead. SOOOOO...

So if baby Jesus isn't in the manger, and the wisemen are waiting until Epiphany, THEN why are Mary and Joseph not also on the road? Why are there shepherds milling about the manger scene? Who is making an appearance, shepherds or magi?! Should this all be taking place in a house or a small hill-side cave? AND WHY DOES MY NATIVITY HAVE A ZEBRA AND A GIRAFFE IN IT?!?!?!?!?!



gasp for air. gasp for air.
breathe.
breathe.

*evidently* I can't go for the "accuracy" of the timing of baby Jesus and the magi.

So, yeah, when you come to my house on December 6th, baby Jesus and all the gang (shepherds, magi, zebra, and giraffe) are all there in the very American Gothic style barn... just exactly as it happened so very long ago.

And if you ask me why baby Jesus isn't hidden away to be placed in the manger on December 25, I'll probably just laugh, and tell you that while I really don't care at all what other people do with their nativity scenes, mine just have to stay complete, because... to put it simply... I really overthink things.

Christmas Vacation

Our cats, Snot and Snot, are drinking all of our tree water. I thought that our tree was just taking up an enormous amount of water, but they've now become incredibly bold about it and just sit drinking the water like it's their own personal Evian bottle.

Someone has also been "nosing through the trash" and it's impossible to throw anything away in this house without C walking by, screeching that it's insanely valuable, and pulling it back out. Oh yes, I forgot that we needed to keep that Happy Meal box until the end of time rather than send it out for recycling.

Clark put up Christmas lights this year. Fewer than some of our neighbors but more than others and certainly much more than we've done in the past.

Aunt Bethany lives here too. I wish I could use pointer fingers to show where she is but... I have to use thumbs I suppose. Knitting, wearing crazy hats, hearing funny squeaky sounds... but there is something in the damn attic again!

What if the thing in the attic has put on an old funky hat and is teary-eyed and watching old Christmas videos?! Oh geeze.

Clark's been working on our toilet because "shitters full" - not really - somethings weird though as it keeps making a random flushing noise. Thank God I have a husband who fixes things.

Last year Cousin Eddie gave me the gift that kept on giving the whole year (a book of the month club that she made) and I opened the last one yesterday. It's actually the gift that will continue to keep on giving next year as well since I still have plenty of books to read.

Just kidding, Kelly. You're not Cousin Eddie. If I'm Aunt Bethany then of course you're Uncle Louis. hahaha!!! Oh HOLY MACKEREL - you're Uncle Louis.

Onward and Upward... Errr... Downward?

When it comes to my children, people are always telling me to "keep 'em little" because you know, "they are the best at that age."

I find this to be more than mildly disturbing.

Not that I don't think my children are fabulous... but because of what these kind of statements inherently say about the future: "Older kids suck" or perhaps "Life: It's all down-hill from here."

I don't believe that to be the case. In fact, I believe, if parents do their jobs right (which mine evidently did) older children are a blast. They come to your house with their own families and drink all of your wine and lie around on your couch while you care for the screaming grandkids...

oh wait.

*ahem*

I digress...

All this was merely to say that we are now a non-highchair family!
Forward ever forward. Onward and upward. All that jazz. Although... it was a HIGHchair so maybe we are technically onward and downward? Hmmm...

A while ago Nils decided he was ready for the booster seat (we have a window seat in our kitchen so he graduated to sitting in a booster at the table) and the awesome wooden highchair Chris' parents found for us when I was pregnant with C moved to the garage. Well, Nils isn't looking back... so we aren't either. And thus, as of yesterday when someone in need of a high chair picked it up from our house, we are now officially out of the highchair phase of life.

Just like that.

And despite the many recommendations of older people in the grocery store that I should somehow find a way to freeze time and force my sweet Nils to stay in a highchair forever, I am in fact not sad about it at all. Not in the least. I'm joyful that he is proud to be out of the highchair and in the booster. I'm happy that he is moving forward and would never purposely do anything to hold him back. I love that little guy with all of my heart and want nothing but the best for him. Why then would I try to force him to stay a baby forever? I'm thankful that Nils is growing and thriving.

So, red highchair, goodbye. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodnight. Thanks for holding my babies. The littlest has announced that he is a highchair baby no longer and we know that another family is now thrilled to have you. 

And now we shall see what glorious things this next phase will bring... like not having to clean a highchair any longer (not that I did that very often anyway). And yeah, while we're at it I got rid of all of those little teeny tiny baby spoons too. Onward. Forward. Upward. Here we go!

Pause

Someone recently asked me if I like living in Katy.

And...

Well...

I hesitated before answering "yes."

BLARGH. I feel so guilty! I feel like my poor suburbia home was standing right there behind me about to say "hi!" and then overheard and turned away shedding a single tear (not that I would ever personify a city or anything). I feel like Olaf should have popped up next to me to jab a pointed stick arm in my face and screamed "you hesitated!"

Because... I hesitated. It was the briefest of pauses. But it was there. Yep, there it was. It was one of those just long-enough-to-notice pauses before my saying "yeah!" And I feel insanely guilty about it. I LOVE living in Katy. And yet, I hesitated.

I'm sure that the other person (Marriott, a classmate I hadn't seen in years) took it to be a statement on how I feel about my current hometown. It wasn't that at all. It was actually a pause to wonder how my "yes" would reflect upon me.

Ugh! Oh no! That might make me feel even worse. Oh, poor Katy suburbia, why must I continue to deny you?

But, the thing is, when we lived in DC (Alexandria to be exact - hellllooo Americana Quaintsville!) it was easy to proclaim our love for the area in which we lived. We fit there. It was diverse. It had seasons, real seasons for Pete's sake! We spent weekends at Smithsonian museums or trips exploring the east coast. People ask(ed) me how I like(d) living there and I shout(ed) "LOV(ED) IT!" before the question even leaves their lips.

And then we moved to Austin. And we lived in Austin proper. It was funky and eclectic. We went hiking and exploring and enjoyed life in another fabulously unique and diverse city. And once again, I fit in there and proclaiming my love for my city felt just fine. I was totally okay with saying I loved it there because of what that said about me.

I'm not someone who cares a whole lot about what other people think of me. But the thing with that is this: I do care that other people not misunderstand me. It bothers me when people assume things about me that aren't true. If they don't like the truth about me then that's fine... but when people think things about me that aren't true (even if they like it or agree) ugghh that gets under my skin.

So what does it tell the other person when I now announce that I love living in Houston burbs? I'm only living 80something miles from where we grew up. Do they then assume that I am a Texas cliche through and through? okay... I just typed out a list of what I think that looks like... and then deleted it so as to not offend the masses. If you haven't lived outside of Texas... we don't always look that great from outside our state. I'm an expert as I've lived in a whopping two other states one of which for a few months (that was snark in case you didn't catch it).

*sigh*

So, yeah, I paused.

Had we still lived in either of those other places I would have felt perfectly comfortable telling this old classmate that I loved living there. Because that fits in line with who I see myself to be. This girl doesn't know me at all. We haven't seen or talked to one another in about fifteen years. So, telling her that I love Katy was going to be one small slice of identity. Who is Casey now? Someone that lives and loves suburbia Tejas.

Is that me?

When we moved to Katy I met like one person my age who didn't wear sweatpants with a word across the buttocks and have big bleached out hair and bedazzled everything (and thankfully she quickly befriended me, hi Katie!). To be honest I was a little shell shocked by all of the... well... not Austin or DCness of the place.

And then we began to get settled in. We started meeting people at church and school. I got involved with the Y. I met people in our neighborhood. I became one of the regulars at our grocery store. We added another nugget to our household. And we found that Katy fits pretty damn well. We love everyone we've met here... including the previously prejudged-by-Casey-bedazzled. We've made friends (great friends!) and a life for ourselves. It's a life that is... well, it screams in fact... SUBURBIA!

We love Katy for its people. We love its small town feel and proximity to "tha big bayou city" (also said in a weird made up cajun country accent). Our church in Katy (which you clergy fams know has a big impact on life) is my favorite church of any church I've ever attended (which would be a total of six churches plus this one). We love love love the life we have here in Katy.

Evidently, as I learned about myself last week, Katy (the suburb) is like some strange ugly crush that I'm trying to keep secret. I didn't realize that about myself.

But here's the other thing it made me realize: anyone could love living in a diverse interesting exciting place. What does loving Katy say about me? Maybe it doesn't scream that I love guns. Maybe it doesn't say that I hate people of other race or religions. Perhaps it doesn't tell people that I prefer trash to recycling. Maybe it doesn't tell people any of those things... because I am none of those things. Perhaps it just says that I bloom where I'm planted. Hopefully, it tells people that I am willing to embrace where I am. Hopefully the next time I'm asked I won't pause before answering. I'll believe that saying "yes!" tells them that I see the good in any place and love meeting new people and sinking my roots deep into whatever soil we happen to be in.

And, hell, let's face it: evidently I'm suburbia. Did you see the list? {I love my church, my kids' preschool, my grocery store, and the ymca?} shit. I might as well sell the Prius for a minivan covered in stick figures right now. I guess I AM a stay-home-mom wearing reindeer pajama pants writing a blog for no one at 5 in the morning while I drink coffee and listen to whatever critter has now taken up residence in our attic. Hmph. The attic critter is probably wearing pjs, drinking coffee, and writing a more interesting blog than me. Well, just as long as its not smoking anything up there. Although... smoking a pipe with an attic critter miiiigghhttt make life in suburbia more interesting...

Wait... I'm a suburban "pastor's wife, mother, and housewife" - why didn't I realize that?!?!

Man, one stupid pause and my whole image of my interesting eclectic self is shot. Totally shot. Damn it Marriott! I blame her.