I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas....

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
(you know, before the roads turn to brown smoosh)
Just like the ones I used to know
(like before dinosaurs roamed the earth, and Micheal J. Fox was IT)
Where Santa Claus built us a fire
(in the fireplace, of course)
and we'd open our presents
(we took turns, and it took hooouuuurrrrs)
listening to the crackle of the fire
(especially if the wrapping paper SC tossed in was foil or extra-flammable)
and Mrs. Claus would make us scones
(for breakfast, or is that lunch, or was it brunch?)

I'm dreaming of a White Christmas
(not just the movie, either)
Just like the ones I used to know
(seriously, another lifetime ago, like when Nintendo 64s roamed the earth)
Where Mom made lots of goodies
(like toffee, mexican wedding cakes, and peanut blossoms - and Dad made pumpkin pies)
And Christmas Caroling was a tradition
(Ben had us add White Christmas to our caroling repertoire)
And we didn't have to make our own Christmas dinners
(seriously, Ham is easy as pie compared to Turkey!)


That's the White Christmas I dream of.......








Reality hits in.....

We woke up to a White Christmas
(seriously, cornea-searing bright white here, people)
Just like we've never had before
(well, at least not with our boys)
Filled with lots of legos
(which Baby Jack tried to eat)
And of course second only to the favored legos: candy
(which Baby Jack also tried to eat)
After which Santa Claus made us from-scratch pancakes
(which Baby Jack actually got to eat.)

Merry Christmas!

**WARNING** (ADULT CONTENT HERE, PEOPLE)

This morning my little (ok, so he isn't so little) baby woke me up a bit earlier than I wanted to wake up. I nursed him and laid him back down to bed. I climbed back into bed. Brent was getting dressed, and I had run out of water. He filled up my glass, setting it on the nightstand, and then started to tuck the blankets in around me, finishing with a kiss (and leaving me all giddy inside.......with looooo-oooove, no seriously people, I loooove it when he takes care of me like that.) As I lay there hoping to take a quick 30 minute nap, I couldn't help but think about how much I love my husband. I feel the need to insert this now, before I go any farther: I am not perfect. He is not perfect. We often disagree. And we both have annoying habits. I love the little things he does for me - those little things are what makes me feel that he actively loves me and cares for me. I love his little boy grin. I love his touch - when he grabs my butt (hehe) or touches my arm or leg in affection, when he rubs my back and especially my feet. His touch makes me believe in the healing power of the human touch. It could make me weep for little babies who never get held, for children who never get hugs. I love going to bed with him beside me every night (even if I only give him a full 5 inches of prime-mattress real estate......which he lovingly forgives me for, night after night.) I love (actually I hate it, but you'll get the point) kissing him goodbye every morning. I watch the clock starting about 5pm, knowing he's driving home and I can't wait for him to get here already! When he's with me, I feel safe and secure. Now, before you go thinking that I am a dependent, insipid, cliche female, I JUST FINISHED SHOVELING SNOW OFF OUR ENTIRE DRIVEWAY. (Beat that, suckas.)
I love the way he loves our children. All of life's cares seem to float away when I catch (what sometimes seems very rare) glimpses of oh-so-worth-it moments in our little family's lives: reading the same four books night after night, sometimes substituting wrong words here and there......the laughter that ensues is the best medicine for my soul. I love the way that he would let the boys stay up forever if I wasn't there to tell him to "put them to bed already." The way that he loves giving them special treats (read: junk food.) I love to watch them wrestle, or to jump on the trampoline - again, the laughter is soothing to my wearied soul. I love to see how he can get my two oldest sons to work together to build something, rather than the usual fighting. I just love him. This isn't to say that again, we don't disagree - we do. Especially when I've hit the Nordstrom Shoe Sale (hehe.) But there are truly times that I find myself overwhelmed with the love I have for him. I can't imagine a life without him. I want to grow old with him (but I am selfish, I want to go first, because I can't imagine ever going to bed without him.)

p.s. Oh yeah, I almost forgot to mention: he finally changed the thermostat to 71.....gosh, I love him!