Santa Has Magic

It was Christmas Eve and my one-year-old was the grumpiest I had ever seen him. He didn't want to eat or drink anything (except candy or cookies, but then he went right back to grumpy). He didn't want any toys. He didn't want to be held. He didn't want to be put down.

I anticipated the formal family Christmas Eve dinner and visit from Santa Claus with trepidation. How could any of us enjoy it with this loud-squawking child in the room? Shortly before dinner, he began rubbing his eyes. Even though it was way too late for a nap, I put him down for one anyway.

I enjoyed a lovely meal while he slept: prime rib, ham, Dixie Salad (our name for a fruit salad made mostly of pomegranates and apples), rolls, salmon salad, carrots, yams, creamed peas, fried rutabaga (the only thing on the table I don't like), mashed potatoes, gravy, and stuffing. My favorite things were the rolls, prime rib, mashed potatoes, and peas.

I had hoped the nap would cheer my baby, but he was still out of sorts when I gathered him from the portable crib. At this point I had given up on getting a picture of him sitting on Santa's lap. He was already at the age when my other children were afraid of Santa. Add that to the monster mood he was in, and you get a big NO WAY.

I was prepared to take him downstairs if it got out of hand. I didn't want him to ruin it for everyone else, especially the part where Santa testifies of the true reason for Christmas: the love of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Santa bounced into the room with bells on, and a bag almost as big as he was. My son watched from across the room as the big man plopped into the soft chair. The first gift Santa pulled from the bag had my son's name on it.

If my jaw could have hit the floor, it would have, because my baby ran across the room and climbed onto Santa's lap in pure excitement. In absolute trust of this stranger, he looked at the gift, then at the giver, and gave a nod that seemed to say "thank you."

How he even knew he was supposed to sit on Santa's lap and receive a gift is beyond me. He was still a newborn the last time he saw Santa, and he didn't see anyone else do it before him.

He ran to me from Santa's lap and was his normal, happy self the rest of the evening.

I could not have believed it if I had not seen it myself.

I believe in Santa. On Christmas Eve, 2010, I saw his magic with my own eyes!

O Christmas Trees

I hope I'm not loony, but last week when I looked at the Christmas tree after my girls got done decorating it, I could hear little voices in my head saying, "Hey guys! Climb down lower. Let's bail!"

I smiled when I realized there is even a train for them to make their get-away.

And while we are on the subject of Christmas trees, here is our tree from a few years ago:

This was the first tree I ever put lights on by myself, and because I didn't know what I was doing, I ended up putting every light we had on the thing (840, to be exact). Even though I am now better at spreading them out, I have to admit that I loved the way that tree GLOWED!

And to my dear friend who requested pictures of the candles on the tree, because we do not have candles on the tree this year (some trees just aren't good candle trees), I went into pre-digital photo days and found a couple to scan. The left picture is from before we got the lovely snowflakes and bells my mother-in-law crocheted for us. The right picture was the only one I could find where the candles were lit. I really wish I could just invite you over to see them, Tami!

The Sacred Garden

The first time I walked into the Sacred Garden, I felt like I had climbed into a little fairy hollow filled with exotic flowers and tasty natural delicacies. Miniature green forests grew on tables stacked on top of tables. Small white lights curtained the lower sitting area. I climbed the stone steps to the upper level while water flowed on either side of me, and under my walkway (paved with flagstone). Soft music played as I admired the tiny seedlings and large happy tomatoes. A small pond surrounded by growth was swimming with young fish. It was so much more than I could have imagined a greenhouse to be.

I recently went back again and took some pictures, but they did not do it justice. Photography is not a talent of mine (probably never will be). I even had my husband take a picture of one of the tomatoes that was as big as a cantaloupe (I'm not exaggerating!), but the picture just didn't look the same as it did in real life, even with my puny hand in the frame, reaching for the biggest tomato I have ever seen in my life.

I wanted to write about this so whenever I feel lonely for my little sister, I can picture her in her lovely garden. And I wanted to share one of my favorite poems, "Fueled" by Marcie Hans:

Fueled
by a million
man-made
wings of fire-
the rocket tore a tunnel
through the sky-
and everybody cheered.
Fueled
only by a thought from God-
the seedling
urged its way
through thicknesses of black-
and as it pierced
the heavy ceiling of the soil-
and lauched itself
up into outer space -
no
one
even
clapped.

Suomi (the Finnish Word for Finland)

Today as I drove to town to do some of my procrastinated Christmas shopping (I don't know what happened this year because I'm usually done by now), I heard on the radio that today is Finland's Independence Day. I hardly ever listen to the radio, so it was a meaningful coincidence that I would hear about this today: the day when the Christmas season usually begins at our house: one month before the last day of Christmas in Finland, January 6th.

There is much of Finland in my family's holiday traditions, decorations, and music. We go to the sauna on Christmas Eve, we put candles on our tree, and we listen to some of the most beautiful carols I have ever heard, in a language I will probably never learn (though I truly wish I could).

Tonight I will help my children decorate the Christmas tree while we listen to Finnish Christmas songs for children. We will practice the words to the song "Tonttujen Jouluyö" in preparation for the song/dance we will do with Mummi (Grandma) at Christmas, each one of us wearing the perfectly fitted elf hat she sewed for us. If you would like to hear the song and see the actions CLICK HERE to see the You Tube video I found.

So today, I send my love to that beautiful land far away...Happy 93rd birthday, Suomi! Thank you for all you have given to my family, at Christmastime and always.

When in Finland

A decade ago, I found myself on an airplane for the first time in my life. Funny, that the first time would take me somewhere so far away from home. We flew from Las Vegas to Detroit, then to Amsterdam, then to Helsinki, then to Rovaniemi. It took a day and a night to get there and about three weeks to get over the jet lag.

Luckily, we still had two weeks left after that.

Rovaniemi was beautiful. I had never seen a place with so much water and so many trees. There were five times as many mosquitoes that summer as the summer before it. Lucky us! My husband must have been the most tasty because he returned home with more polka dots than anyone.

We spent most of our time with family. When it was time to go, with flowing tears, we embraced loved ones we knew we may never see again. I grew to love them in such a short time.

I went with an aunt to an activity for Relief Society (my church's organization for women). It was a sauna social at a summer cottage next to a lake in the Arctic Circle. When she first invited me, I declined. Running around naked with a bunch of women I hardly know is something I just could not picture myself doing. Even in junior high and high school I took my showers after gym class with my towel on. Somehow she convinced me I should give it a try.

To this day, I'm glad I did. It took a lot of self control to not hide myself with my upper limbs, but as I saw how easy it was for everyone else, it became easier for me. Not easy, but easier. Most of all, I loved the feeling of the wood burning sauna, the fresh forest air on my heated body as I tiptoed down the dock, and the invigoration I felt after I jumped into the chilly dark water. I don't know how the Finns bear to get into that water in the winter, because in midsummer, it numbed my skin in seconds. The cycle continued as the penetrating heat warmed my cold skin again, in preparation for another dip in the Arctic waters. Like a kid at a waterslide, I kept going back for more.

I have never slept so well as I did that night. I can't help wondering if I will ever experience sauna like that again.

I'm glad I did it when I had the chance.

My First Chick Flick List

My husband does not do chick flicks. I never really cared for them either, at least of the few I had seen. Last year, I decided to start watching some of them, just to make sure I wasn't missing anything (and I am a chick, after all). I like to watch movies while I iron, and as long as I was able to borrow them from family, friends, or the library--or watch them on Netflix instant, (because I didn't really want to pay to watch them), I figured I might as well.

First of all, I have discovered the necessity for me to watch these movies alone because even if I think the movie is absolutely ridiculously absurdly stupid, they almost always make me cry. I don't know why I'm even telling you this, because it is actually quite embarrassing to me!

I have also found an interesting phenomenon in many of these movies. The climax consists of the lover/lovee literally running to profess his/her love, often getting stuck in traffic along the way, or, my favorite, running through an airport.

I thought it might be fun to write a list of "running to declare love" movies. So far I have come up with: Sabrina; Ever After; Sleepless in Seattle; Six Days, Seven Nights; Serendipity; Someone Like You; The Proposal; Notting Hill. If you know any, let me know and I'll watch them and add them to the list (but I don't watch rated R movies). And feel free to tell me what your favorite chick flick is so I can watch it too!

I loved the first three on the list and hated the last one. The others in between I disliked for one reason or another, usually because of the swearing and/or nudity and/or steamy scenes. (Call me a prude if you like, but I always think the movies would be better without these things.)

So, I have to know: Is this really how love happens to people? I don't remember the first time I said "I love you" to my husband, but I know it wasn't associated with any kind of emergency. Am I the only one who missed that?

I do remember telling him I was afraid to fall in love with him. He asked me why, which I considered to be the green light on the matter. Do you remember the first time you said "I love you" to the one that you love?

Quoting the Cute: Page Six

Six-year-old: "Why do I have to do all the work?" (I know from experience that it's hard to be the oldest, but I don't have her do nearly as much work as I probably should!)

Two-year-old: "I swallowed my pooptaste." (translation: toothpaste)

One-year-old: "No, no, no, no," said while shaking his head. These were his first words. He also attempts to say, "Don't touch," "yuck," and "kitty," but he can't quite say them yet. I can just tell that he's trying to!

Six-year-old: It's actually been a year ago that she used to say this, but I wanted to bring it up because it was so funny. When she would say the phrase "diaper rash cream," she'd use an "s" sound in the place of "sh." It always made me smile. If you don't know why, say it fast three times.

Two-year-old: I love it when she says any word with the letter "l" in it. She pronounces them perfectly, but with an emphasis that is so adorable, it gets me every time. Add the batting of her eyelashes, and she's got me wrapped around her finger.

One-year-old: "Wow!" (I wish you could see how cute his lips look with each "w.")