I'm late, I know, but Merry Christmas to you all!
It's been an insane past week and a half with my family, and the next week and a half with my in-laws will be equally insane. We really have to convince both our families to move closer to us! It has been wonderful to see everyone though. Lots to say as soon as I have more than a couple free minutes in a row!
Best wishes for 2009!
Sunday, 28 December 2008
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Passing the buck
My husband and I both have a bit of an, er, "weakness" as far as books go. Passing by a bookstore without going inside is quite the trial.
But now we can totally pass the buck when it comes to this.
There's a shopping plaza near our home with a very large bookstore. Our son already knows what's inside. We can't even walk by it without him exclaiming books! books! and trying to pull us towards the door. This kid loves books.
And we love that he loves books.
But even more than that, we love that we can now blame our vices on our kid.
Rock on, child.
But now we can totally pass the buck when it comes to this.
There's a shopping plaza near our home with a very large bookstore. Our son already knows what's inside. We can't even walk by it without him exclaiming books! books! and trying to pull us towards the door. This kid loves books.
And we love that he loves books.
But even more than that, we love that we can now blame our vices on our kid.
Rock on, child.
Monday, 15 December 2008
Sentimental much?
And here is where you get to see me way overthinking things.
I have this plush bear. I got him for my birthday from a friend when I was, I don't know, about 13, give or take a couple years. I wouldn't even say "friend", really - more like we had a mutual friend. And even this mutual friend was only my friend by virtue of our parents being co-workers. So to put it another way, I got this bear from my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend.
He's kind of a cute bear, one of those posed antique-looking bears with a knit sweater and a solemn face. He looked quite nice sitting on a shelf in my room, where he eventually became part of the decor. Somehow, when I moved across the country a couple years ago, this bear made his way into my over-stuffed car and came with me, even though I must have left another fifty or so plush animals in my parents' basement. And somehow, when I set up my son's nursery before he was born, this bear made his way onto the bookshelf, even though the rest of the plush animals that had migrated across the country with me ended up stuffed in a toy box.
And somehow, even though he's never shown much interest in stuffed animals, even though he's never really "taken" to any other toys (cars fervently excepted), even though he staunchly ignored the plush bought specifically for him...my son has developed an attachment to this bear.
And it's bothering me.
I mean, this bear has no meaning! I got it from "my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend". It was only sitting out because it looks quite nice sitting on a shelf. I have all this other plush that has meaning - the bear I got when I was in the hospital for surgery when I was 12, the beautiful cuddly bear his Oma gave him, the big soft floppy frog I bought when I went through my frog stage, Seabert the seal who was the first in my very very very large plush seal collection, the soft giraffe that was given to my son when he was born, and on and on and on. Of all his options, he somehow ended up latching on to this posed bear that was supposed to simply look nice sitting on a shelf, that isn't soft or cuddly, that has no sentimental meaning to it...and it's bothering me!
My logical brain knows I'm being silly. Who cares if this bear has no sentimental "meaning" behind it - my son likes it, just leave it be!
And yet I keep thinking of my own childhood bear. This was one well loved bear. My parents bought him for me before I was even born, and he sat on the back of the couch awaiting my arrival. I slept with that bear every night until I got married (and even then it was only because my husband insisted he was not going to share a bed with a stuffed bear, especially not if I was going to cuddle with it instead of him). That bear kept me safe during my years of hating the dark. That bear's paws dried all my hormonal teenage tears. That bear stoutly kept every secret I told him over the years. That bear has a story and meaning and he didn't come from my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend!
(And yet, when my son found said childhood bear and started playing with it, it took an embarrassing amount of willpower to keep myself from snatching it out of his hands with yells of "it's mine, gimme!!" Buuut we'll just ignore that little regression to childhood, since I did bite my tongue and grit my teeth and let him continue to play with it in the end. Regardless, he didn't become attached to it anyway, so it's all quite irrelevant.)
I had planned to buy my son a bear of his own for his second birthday, a soft cuddly bear that he could drag everywhere and call his and have a sweet little story attached to it for when he asked where it came from some years down the road. And now I'm finding myself tempted to run out and buy it for him now for Christmas instead. Perhaps my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend's gift-bear could be replaced by a special, meaningful, bought-especially-with-him-in-mind bear. Then when he kissed it, I could think "aww, look at him kissing his bear," instead of thinking "that bear is just supposed to be a pretty decoration, stop kissing it!"
I know, I know - issues much? Apparently I am far too sentimental for my own good. And now that I've got it out, perhaps I'll be able to let it go and make peace with that fact that my son has become attached to a meaningless gift from my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend. Perhaps.
I have this plush bear. I got him for my birthday from a friend when I was, I don't know, about 13, give or take a couple years. I wouldn't even say "friend", really - more like we had a mutual friend. And even this mutual friend was only my friend by virtue of our parents being co-workers. So to put it another way, I got this bear from my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend.
He's kind of a cute bear, one of those posed antique-looking bears with a knit sweater and a solemn face. He looked quite nice sitting on a shelf in my room, where he eventually became part of the decor. Somehow, when I moved across the country a couple years ago, this bear made his way into my over-stuffed car and came with me, even though I must have left another fifty or so plush animals in my parents' basement. And somehow, when I set up my son's nursery before he was born, this bear made his way onto the bookshelf, even though the rest of the plush animals that had migrated across the country with me ended up stuffed in a toy box.
And somehow, even though he's never shown much interest in stuffed animals, even though he's never really "taken" to any other toys (cars fervently excepted), even though he staunchly ignored the plush bought specifically for him...my son has developed an attachment to this bear.
And it's bothering me.
I mean, this bear has no meaning! I got it from "my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend". It was only sitting out because it looks quite nice sitting on a shelf. I have all this other plush that has meaning - the bear I got when I was in the hospital for surgery when I was 12, the beautiful cuddly bear his Oma gave him, the big soft floppy frog I bought when I went through my frog stage, Seabert the seal who was the first in my very very very large plush seal collection, the soft giraffe that was given to my son when he was born, and on and on and on. Of all his options, he somehow ended up latching on to this posed bear that was supposed to simply look nice sitting on a shelf, that isn't soft or cuddly, that has no sentimental meaning to it...and it's bothering me!
My logical brain knows I'm being silly. Who cares if this bear has no sentimental "meaning" behind it - my son likes it, just leave it be!
And yet I keep thinking of my own childhood bear. This was one well loved bear. My parents bought him for me before I was even born, and he sat on the back of the couch awaiting my arrival. I slept with that bear every night until I got married (and even then it was only because my husband insisted he was not going to share a bed with a stuffed bear, especially not if I was going to cuddle with it instead of him). That bear kept me safe during my years of hating the dark. That bear's paws dried all my hormonal teenage tears. That bear stoutly kept every secret I told him over the years. That bear has a story and meaning and he didn't come from my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend!
(And yet, when my son found said childhood bear and started playing with it, it took an embarrassing amount of willpower to keep myself from snatching it out of his hands with yells of "it's mine, gimme!!" Buuut we'll just ignore that little regression to childhood, since I did bite my tongue and grit my teeth and let him continue to play with it in the end. Regardless, he didn't become attached to it anyway, so it's all quite irrelevant.)
I had planned to buy my son a bear of his own for his second birthday, a soft cuddly bear that he could drag everywhere and call his and have a sweet little story attached to it for when he asked where it came from some years down the road. And now I'm finding myself tempted to run out and buy it for him now for Christmas instead. Perhaps my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend's gift-bear could be replaced by a special, meaningful, bought-especially-with-him-in-mind bear. Then when he kissed it, I could think "aww, look at him kissing his bear," instead of thinking "that bear is just supposed to be a pretty decoration, stop kissing it!"
I know, I know - issues much? Apparently I am far too sentimental for my own good. And now that I've got it out, perhaps I'll be able to let it go and make peace with that fact that my son has become attached to a meaningless gift from my mom's co-worker's daughter's friend. Perhaps.
Sunday, 14 December 2008
Christ the Light
On November 30th, the first Sunday in Advent, we lit the first candle on our Advent wreath - the hope candle. We look in eager anticipation to the coming of the Messiah.
Last Sunday we lit the second candle - the peace candle. We thank God for the coming Christ who will bring forgiveness for our sins.
Today we light the third Advent candle, the pink joy candle, to show that the light has now overcome the darkness. Praise be to God!
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
Candles and chick flicks
Ahh, sweet bliss...my husband went out for the evening.
Heartless much? I know. But he's unemployed. I work from home. The past five months and three days of constant hubby are starting to drive me a bit stir crazy.
So, yes...sweet bliss.
I rented a girly movie, bought some chocolate for me and green licorice ropes for the boy, lit some candles and had a lovely relaxing husband-free evening.
We've had a couple other evenings like this. The green licorice ropes are a tradition (the first "treat" the boy ever had - he giggles like mad when he sees them on these very rare mother/son nights). The girly movies are also a must, my chance to watch something that the husband isn't interested in. And chocolate - well, chocolate needs no explanation.
I've been taking these infrequent opportunities to watch Janette Oke's "Love Comes Softly" series. Tonight we watched the sixth one, "Love's Unfolding Dream". I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I've never read the books, just watched the movies. I'm rarely impressed with Christian fiction, but these do make wonderful movies so perhaps the books are good as well.
(Speaking of Christian fiction, I just finished an amazing book. It was Angela Hunt's "Magdalene", a historical fiction book. I don't even know what to say about this book other than read it. It is rare you will get a Christian fiction recommendation from me, but this was at, or nearly at, the level of Francine River's "Mark of the Lion" series. And that is high praise indeed, given the caliber of those books.)
It was a great night all around. The movie was excellent, the boy loved all the horses in it, green licorice ropes are always good fun, and candles are a rare treat for me. (As an added bonus, I took the opportunity to pluck my eyebrows without my husband barging in on me to tell me the latest hockey score or news article or WoW quest or random factoid. Woohoo!) There was lots of tickling, laughing, wrestling, chasing and mad giggling fits. We drank chamomile tea and had the sweetest, easiest bedtime we've had in a long time. My adorable sweet funny boy. I love nights like these.
It was a good night.
Heartless much? I know. But he's unemployed. I work from home. The past five months and three days of constant hubby are starting to drive me a bit stir crazy.
So, yes...sweet bliss.
I rented a girly movie, bought some chocolate for me and green licorice ropes for the boy, lit some candles and had a lovely relaxing husband-free evening.
We've had a couple other evenings like this. The green licorice ropes are a tradition (the first "treat" the boy ever had - he giggles like mad when he sees them on these very rare mother/son nights). The girly movies are also a must, my chance to watch something that the husband isn't interested in. And chocolate - well, chocolate needs no explanation.
I've been taking these infrequent opportunities to watch Janette Oke's "Love Comes Softly" series. Tonight we watched the sixth one, "Love's Unfolding Dream". I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I've never read the books, just watched the movies. I'm rarely impressed with Christian fiction, but these do make wonderful movies so perhaps the books are good as well.
(Speaking of Christian fiction, I just finished an amazing book. It was Angela Hunt's "Magdalene", a historical fiction book. I don't even know what to say about this book other than read it. It is rare you will get a Christian fiction recommendation from me, but this was at, or nearly at, the level of Francine River's "Mark of the Lion" series. And that is high praise indeed, given the caliber of those books.)
It was a great night all around. The movie was excellent, the boy loved all the horses in it, green licorice ropes are always good fun, and candles are a rare treat for me. (As an added bonus, I took the opportunity to pluck my eyebrows without my husband barging in on me to tell me the latest hockey score or news article or WoW quest or random factoid. Woohoo!) There was lots of tickling, laughing, wrestling, chasing and mad giggling fits. We drank chamomile tea and had the sweetest, easiest bedtime we've had in a long time. My adorable sweet funny boy. I love nights like these.
It was a good night.
Monday, 1 December 2008
I did it!
Phew! I did it - one post for every day of November. I can't say much of it was terribly thoughtful or insightful, but it definitely got me in the habit of blogging more so I'll say it was a success! But it seems that I need more than just one day to write anything particularly indepth, so I don't think the daily posts will continue - but hopefully some with more substance will appear instead.
Happy blogging!
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