No exaggeration. Nana washed clothes, sheets, and towels all day to catch up from Ava's stomach virus. She had 3 baths and managed to hit everything in a 4-6 foot radius several times. I did a couple of more loads tonight and Joe had just put the last load in the dryer when we trudged into our room to get into bed to find that the cat had urinated ON OUR BED.
At this rate, she will not make it through the winter to become an outside kitty in the spring.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Christmas Memories
I'll never forget this Christmas for several reasons. It has probably been the best Christmas we've had in our five years of marriage.
I don't really remember much about our first Christmas, except my in-laws made me feel very welcome, and I got a very nice razor.
The image of our second Christmas is my round-bellied wife, due in January. We opened several sets of baby clothes. My sister-in-law wished aloud that the baby could be there. I sat in a daze, still unprepared for what was to come a month later.
Cate's first Christmas is also a blur to me. I wish I had better memories of it.
My image of Cate's second Christmas is of her being so excited about her new tricycle. She discovered it in the carport, and she made us all push her around for a long time, laughing heartily.
Last year, Cate was beginning to get it, and she was excited. It was fun watching her grasp the concept of presents. Ava was tiny and not much for the whole thing.
This year, Cate was positively stoked. She helped hang ornaments on three Christmas trees. Her first thought every morning was the advent calendar. Get out of bed. Put glasses on. Go to advent calendar. Count how many days until Christmas.
And then there was Oliver. Oliver is the Babb manifestation of the popular "Elf on the Shelf" child behavioral trend that has swept the nation. You get a small elf. He comes with book to make it look innocent, but the terms are that this elf will watch you all of December and report to Santa whether or not you are good or bad. Presumptively, he would make a quick trip every night to the North Pole to report on the day's activities and come back before sunrise. Your child would know that he went because he had moved since you last saw him. The game to the child is to find the elf the next morning. The game to the grownups is to cite the elf's watchful eye when the child is acting up. I'm really not sure I am for this, but it worked pretty well with Cate. When Cate would begin to act up, Lauren would say "Oh, Oliver, what do you think about that?" and the behavior would be quickly corrected. Obviously, this did not work with Ava. I am not even sure she knew Oliver existed, and to be truthful, she would probably just as well give Oliver the finger than be held hostage by his tattling threats. I guess we'll see in a couple of years.
My wife deserves a tremendous amount of credit for conceiving of the idea of the girls' main present. Pictures are below. Lauren did all of the sewing (which was a lot, maybe 3 months' worth), and it came together just as she envisioned it. My sister-in-law deserves a ton of credit for her hard work. She was up late for about 5 nights in a row working up there. And on Christmas eve, my mother-in-law and I helped put it all together. We finished about 3 A.M. Had Nancy not been there, somebody might've died. Everyone's nerves were pretty severely rattled. At around 1:30 in the morning, as we got to what I perceived to be "Let's get this *&!@ thing finished" time,"my sister-in-law would ask something like "Lauren, I am not sure about the surface of this paint on this stool leg. Should I mahge pahge it?" Then they would enter into a ten minute discussion about the benefits of mahge pahge and whether or not it applied in this situation. Nancy and I would look at each other, and I would offer, in the gentlest way I could muster, that perhaps, mahge pahge on half of an inch of stool leg doesn't matter at 2 in the morning.
We finished. Out of necessity, all the presents were upstairs in the playroom with the newly constructed playhouse. Santa left a note on the Christmas tree, along with a special key to the playroom that explained the situation, and we headed off to bed as Santa's poor, tired, and smelly helpers drove home.
At 7:30, I heard Cate's door open. Too tired to open my eyes, I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps as she ran into the living room. There was a pause, and then a slow walk to our bedroom.
"Daddy," she said, "Santa didn't bring us any presents this year, but there's a note, and it says 'Cate and Ava,' but I don't know what the rest of it says."
Still too tired to even open my eyes, I pulled her up in the bed. "There's a note, huh?" I mumbled.
"Yeah."
"Oh, well, are you disappointed that he didn't bring any presents?" I asked, wanting to test my daughter in this most delicate of moments.
"No. Maybe he'll bring us some presents next year," she said. She said it hopefully, not sadly. She was not upset. Test passed. I was sort of amazed as a Dad at that moment.
'Well," I said, "let's go see what the note says," I said, forcing myself out of the warm bed.
"Ok," she said.
And then, "I don't know why he didn't bring us any toys. I've been nice this year. Where's Oliver?"
I was too groggy to appreciate it at the time, but Lauren and I got a good laugh out of later. Where the hell was Oliver, that little snitch? What's he been telling the big man? I've been good. He's been telling lies on me. I am gonna take this up with him.
They loved their gifts. Lauren and I loved the warmth of my old bed at Moms as we took the most delightful Christmas nap anyone has ever known.
So for this year, I'll remember the exhaustion, the tired eyes of my wife as we worked to get Christmas ready, the patience and calming spirit of Nancy, the mostly-awful Christmas music that Catherine made us listen to as we worked, and the conversation described above.
I'll also remember carrying my daughter through the rain and wind into the packed Sanctuary at First Methodist at 4:00 P.M. It was so crowded, we had to get a folding chair. She was going to sit in my lap for an hour. Her usual church activity of coloring would be greatly hindered by the lack of pew space. I'll remember that she was perfect the entire time. I'll remember watching her sing "Away in the Manger," and picking up the "Gloria, In Excelsis Deo" part on "Angels We Have Heard on High." I'll remember walking her down for Christmas Eve Communion. I'll remember watching her eyes as they dimmed the lights and began to light the candles during Silent Night. She was fascinated by all this. She took it all in. I hope, on some microscopic level, she took in some of God's Incarnate Love that came down 2000 years ago in the form of the most humble creature imaginable.
What a great Christmas it was. What a wonderful family I have.
-Joe
I don't really remember much about our first Christmas, except my in-laws made me feel very welcome, and I got a very nice razor.
The image of our second Christmas is my round-bellied wife, due in January. We opened several sets of baby clothes. My sister-in-law wished aloud that the baby could be there. I sat in a daze, still unprepared for what was to come a month later.
Cate's first Christmas is also a blur to me. I wish I had better memories of it.
My image of Cate's second Christmas is of her being so excited about her new tricycle. She discovered it in the carport, and she made us all push her around for a long time, laughing heartily.
Last year, Cate was beginning to get it, and she was excited. It was fun watching her grasp the concept of presents. Ava was tiny and not much for the whole thing.
This year, Cate was positively stoked. She helped hang ornaments on three Christmas trees. Her first thought every morning was the advent calendar. Get out of bed. Put glasses on. Go to advent calendar. Count how many days until Christmas.
And then there was Oliver. Oliver is the Babb manifestation of the popular "Elf on the Shelf" child behavioral trend that has swept the nation. You get a small elf. He comes with book to make it look innocent, but the terms are that this elf will watch you all of December and report to Santa whether or not you are good or bad. Presumptively, he would make a quick trip every night to the North Pole to report on the day's activities and come back before sunrise. Your child would know that he went because he had moved since you last saw him. The game to the child is to find the elf the next morning. The game to the grownups is to cite the elf's watchful eye when the child is acting up. I'm really not sure I am for this, but it worked pretty well with Cate. When Cate would begin to act up, Lauren would say "Oh, Oliver, what do you think about that?" and the behavior would be quickly corrected. Obviously, this did not work with Ava. I am not even sure she knew Oliver existed, and to be truthful, she would probably just as well give Oliver the finger than be held hostage by his tattling threats. I guess we'll see in a couple of years.
My wife deserves a tremendous amount of credit for conceiving of the idea of the girls' main present. Pictures are below. Lauren did all of the sewing (which was a lot, maybe 3 months' worth), and it came together just as she envisioned it. My sister-in-law deserves a ton of credit for her hard work. She was up late for about 5 nights in a row working up there. And on Christmas eve, my mother-in-law and I helped put it all together. We finished about 3 A.M. Had Nancy not been there, somebody might've died. Everyone's nerves were pretty severely rattled. At around 1:30 in the morning, as we got to what I perceived to be "Let's get this *&!@ thing finished" time,"my sister-in-law would ask something like "Lauren, I am not sure about the surface of this paint on this stool leg. Should I mahge pahge it?" Then they would enter into a ten minute discussion about the benefits of mahge pahge and whether or not it applied in this situation. Nancy and I would look at each other, and I would offer, in the gentlest way I could muster, that perhaps, mahge pahge on half of an inch of stool leg doesn't matter at 2 in the morning.
We finished. Out of necessity, all the presents were upstairs in the playroom with the newly constructed playhouse. Santa left a note on the Christmas tree, along with a special key to the playroom that explained the situation, and we headed off to bed as Santa's poor, tired, and smelly helpers drove home.
At 7:30, I heard Cate's door open. Too tired to open my eyes, I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps as she ran into the living room. There was a pause, and then a slow walk to our bedroom.
"Daddy," she said, "Santa didn't bring us any presents this year, but there's a note, and it says 'Cate and Ava,' but I don't know what the rest of it says."
Still too tired to even open my eyes, I pulled her up in the bed. "There's a note, huh?" I mumbled.
"Yeah."
"Oh, well, are you disappointed that he didn't bring any presents?" I asked, wanting to test my daughter in this most delicate of moments.
"No. Maybe he'll bring us some presents next year," she said. She said it hopefully, not sadly. She was not upset. Test passed. I was sort of amazed as a Dad at that moment.
'Well," I said, "let's go see what the note says," I said, forcing myself out of the warm bed.
"Ok," she said.
And then, "I don't know why he didn't bring us any toys. I've been nice this year. Where's Oliver?"
I was too groggy to appreciate it at the time, but Lauren and I got a good laugh out of later. Where the hell was Oliver, that little snitch? What's he been telling the big man? I've been good. He's been telling lies on me. I am gonna take this up with him.
They loved their gifts. Lauren and I loved the warmth of my old bed at Moms as we took the most delightful Christmas nap anyone has ever known.
So for this year, I'll remember the exhaustion, the tired eyes of my wife as we worked to get Christmas ready, the patience and calming spirit of Nancy, the mostly-awful Christmas music that Catherine made us listen to as we worked, and the conversation described above.
I'll also remember carrying my daughter through the rain and wind into the packed Sanctuary at First Methodist at 4:00 P.M. It was so crowded, we had to get a folding chair. She was going to sit in my lap for an hour. Her usual church activity of coloring would be greatly hindered by the lack of pew space. I'll remember that she was perfect the entire time. I'll remember watching her sing "Away in the Manger," and picking up the "Gloria, In Excelsis Deo" part on "Angels We Have Heard on High." I'll remember walking her down for Christmas Eve Communion. I'll remember watching her eyes as they dimmed the lights and began to light the candles during Silent Night. She was fascinated by all this. She took it all in. I hope, on some microscopic level, she took in some of God's Incarnate Love that came down 2000 years ago in the form of the most humble creature imaginable.
What a great Christmas it was. What a wonderful family I have.
-Joe
The Prophecy Fulfilled
1 A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse;
from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.
2 The Spirit of the LORD will rest on him—
the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding,
the Spirit of counsel and of power,
the Spirit of knowledge and of the fear of the LORD -
3 and he will delight in the fear of the LORD.
He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes,
or decide by what he hears with his ears;
4 but with righteousness he will judge the needy,
with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth.
He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth;
with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked.
5 Righteousness will be his belt
and faithfulness the sash around his waist.
6 The wolf will live with the lamb,
the leopard will lie down with the goat,
the calf and the lion and the yearling together;
and a little child will lead them.
7 The cow will feed with the bear,
their young will lie down together,
and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
8 The infant will play near the hole of the cobra,
and the young child put his hand into the viper's nest.
9 They will neither harm nor destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD
as the waters cover the sea.
Merry Late Christmas.
-Joe
Yes, the wife is sneaky.
....My mom is immensely talented. In between co-running a CPA firm, playing the organ and piano for most of the second half of the year (including the church Christmas program), and mothering a college student, she found time to make her patented and world famous Christmas cookies. These cookies were a staple of my childhood. I have known them as long as I can remember.
She has used the same cookie cutters for years - including, but not limited to, a big Christmas tree, a little Christmas tree, a big angel, a little angel, a star, a candy cane, a wreath, the occasional teddy bear, and finally the greatest cookie of all, the snowman.
These cookies, as much as anything, are a work of art. She probably uses 8-10 colors of icing and all manners of sprinkles, M&M's, and chocolate chips. The angel has yellow hair and white clothing. The big Christmas tree has a brown stump, a green body, and multicolored M&M's for Christmas lights. The candy cane is red and white striped (painstakingly), and finally the snowman has a white body with a green and red scarf, chocolate chip eyes, and 3 chocolate chip buttons.
All kids love these cookies, including mine. Cate is, in fact, learning the art of delayed gratification. She analyzes the cookie tray and decides which ones she wants to save. With a few cookies left, Cate announced that she would eat the candy cane and the snowman. She would keep a constant check on these two cookies to make sure nobody ate them. And so, after lunch yesterday, she pulled the trigger on the candy cane. The last and greatest cookie, the snowman, would be her post-supper dessert, I was informed. It waited its turn on a crumb filled red paper plate on the counter.
We had a good day yesterday. Both Lauren and I got to exercise and we got most of the Christmas decorations put up. Unfortunately and unknown to me, all of that work built up an appetite.
I was standing in the kitchen getting ready to start on the dishes when Cate said. "Ok, can I have my snowman now?" "Sure," I said, as my eyes wandered to the spot on the counter where the plate was sitting. No plate. No nothing. Gone. I looked up at my wife who was sitting at the table by Cate. She was looking down at her plate. Her face was red, and she shielded her eyes from those of her daughter. She laughed guiltily. Interpreting the situation, I acted quickly.
"Hey Cate," I said, opening the fridge. "I am going to make these cookies in a minute. You want one?" I held out the Pillsbury brand Christmas cookies that you just pop on the pan and warm up. This was a poor substitute and Cate knew it. "Ok, but can I have my snowman cookie?" I again looked at my wife.
"What kind of person are you?" I whispered. She didn't respond. We were both bracing for the coming fit.
"Cate," I said, desperately, "There's a bird in the dining room. It's red. Go in there and see if you can find it." She nervously peered around the corner. "I don't see a bird," she said. "It's there. Go in there and say 'tweet, tweet, tweet,' and it will come out."
The ruse worked. She was distracted long enough until bath time. I bathed Cate and Ava and dressed them both. As is the custom, we briefly turned on the tv as we readied them for bed. Just as we were about to read books, Cate sauntered up. "Can I have my snowman cookie now?"
Defeated, I told her to go ask her mother. It was over. I wasn't going to take the bullet.
I watched her walk innocently in to the bedroom where Lauren was. Curiously, I heard no hysterics. After a moment, I went to investigate. She met me at the door, giggled, and said "Ya'll ate it."
Come again?
"Ya'll?"
"Yeah," she said, "You and Mama ate it."
I marched past her into the bathroom. Lauren was laughing and waiting. "Cate," I called. "Come here." She came in and asked what was so funny.
In front of her, I turned to my wife. "Lauren, who ate the snowman cookie?"
"Cate, I ate your snowman cookie," she said.
"That's ok, mama," she said, and walked off.
Sometimes it's good to have a forgiving 3 year old. Really, she's almost four.
-Joe
She has used the same cookie cutters for years - including, but not limited to, a big Christmas tree, a little Christmas tree, a big angel, a little angel, a star, a candy cane, a wreath, the occasional teddy bear, and finally the greatest cookie of all, the snowman.
These cookies, as much as anything, are a work of art. She probably uses 8-10 colors of icing and all manners of sprinkles, M&M's, and chocolate chips. The angel has yellow hair and white clothing. The big Christmas tree has a brown stump, a green body, and multicolored M&M's for Christmas lights. The candy cane is red and white striped (painstakingly), and finally the snowman has a white body with a green and red scarf, chocolate chip eyes, and 3 chocolate chip buttons.
All kids love these cookies, including mine. Cate is, in fact, learning the art of delayed gratification. She analyzes the cookie tray and decides which ones she wants to save. With a few cookies left, Cate announced that she would eat the candy cane and the snowman. She would keep a constant check on these two cookies to make sure nobody ate them. And so, after lunch yesterday, she pulled the trigger on the candy cane. The last and greatest cookie, the snowman, would be her post-supper dessert, I was informed. It waited its turn on a crumb filled red paper plate on the counter.
We had a good day yesterday. Both Lauren and I got to exercise and we got most of the Christmas decorations put up. Unfortunately and unknown to me, all of that work built up an appetite.
I was standing in the kitchen getting ready to start on the dishes when Cate said. "Ok, can I have my snowman now?" "Sure," I said, as my eyes wandered to the spot on the counter where the plate was sitting. No plate. No nothing. Gone. I looked up at my wife who was sitting at the table by Cate. She was looking down at her plate. Her face was red, and she shielded her eyes from those of her daughter. She laughed guiltily. Interpreting the situation, I acted quickly.
"Hey Cate," I said, opening the fridge. "I am going to make these cookies in a minute. You want one?" I held out the Pillsbury brand Christmas cookies that you just pop on the pan and warm up. This was a poor substitute and Cate knew it. "Ok, but can I have my snowman cookie?" I again looked at my wife.
"What kind of person are you?" I whispered. She didn't respond. We were both bracing for the coming fit.
"Cate," I said, desperately, "There's a bird in the dining room. It's red. Go in there and see if you can find it." She nervously peered around the corner. "I don't see a bird," she said. "It's there. Go in there and say 'tweet, tweet, tweet,' and it will come out."
The ruse worked. She was distracted long enough until bath time. I bathed Cate and Ava and dressed them both. As is the custom, we briefly turned on the tv as we readied them for bed. Just as we were about to read books, Cate sauntered up. "Can I have my snowman cookie now?"
Defeated, I told her to go ask her mother. It was over. I wasn't going to take the bullet.
I watched her walk innocently in to the bedroom where Lauren was. Curiously, I heard no hysterics. After a moment, I went to investigate. She met me at the door, giggled, and said "Ya'll ate it."
Come again?
"Ya'll?"
"Yeah," she said, "You and Mama ate it."
I marched past her into the bathroom. Lauren was laughing and waiting. "Cate," I called. "Come here." She came in and asked what was so funny.
In front of her, I turned to my wife. "Lauren, who ate the snowman cookie?"
"Cate, I ate your snowman cookie," she said.
"That's ok, mama," she said, and walked off.
Sometimes it's good to have a forgiving 3 year old. Really, she's almost four.
-Joe
Friday, December 25, 2009
Santa Claus 2009
Well, Santa got a little too ambitious at the Babb house this year. The plan originally started as a way to save money- I would make the girls' big present. In the end, I'm not sure if I saved very much and I lost some of my sanity and a lot of sleep in the process.
It definitely does take a village to raise a child and this year it took one to have Santa Clause. When we were little, my sister Catherine and I "tended like" (pretended) for hours on end. We had great fun dreaming up this room for Cate and Ava. Catherine spent hours plotting, designing, and planning the mural, the chalkboard, stripes, and a few other things. My Granny sewed the panels, roof, and ties. Grandpa (Lynn) painted the room blue, worked on the trim, and helped with the stripes. Nana (Nancy) kept the girls and stayed up with us Christmas Eve organizing and putting the finishing touch on things. Tracie came by and painted the apple. Even though I think he thought it would never happen, Joe put up with the whole idea and and helped with the entire process from the end of October until 3 am this morning. And I put every last tiny stitch in the rest of the house (with the exception of the flowers- I ordered those from Etsy). I'm still not sure if I'm going to let them touch any of it.
BEFORE
Catherine hard at work. She swears she will never paint another rainbow again. For some reason, it was the most tedious and several times she threatened just to paint completely over it.
The reading corner and our striped "accent" wall. The word "PLAY" hangs from the ceiling.
Catherine painted the murals. I took pictures of their favorite babies and stuffed animals and framed them on the walls.
Their Christmas stuff won't usually be in the middle of the floor (though I'm sure a pile of toys will). They can go in and out through the tunnel.
The front of the playhouse. I wish I could have figured out a way for the door to open, but it doesn't. The mailbox pocket does open and they even have mail made of felt.
Ava and Cate bunnies. Cat drew these off for me. There's even a carrot in Cate's bunny purse as a secret surprise.
I'd never seen chalkboard paint before, but it's great. It really is just like a chalkboard. Cate loves to play school (I don't know where she gets her bossiness).
"Dear Cate and Ava, I left your presents in the playroom. Here's the key. Merry Christmas! Love, Santa"
Their stools. The next ones I do will NOT have stiped legs. They will be solid.
Totally worth it.
Cate loved all of her dress- up clothes and her new mirror.
Merry Christmas my Sweet Girls!
P.S. Joe feels I should disclose that this should not be mentioned to Cate or Ava. He is scared to death they'll find out that we did it, not Santa, and they won't believe in Santa, so, SHHH!
It definitely does take a village to raise a child and this year it took one to have Santa Clause. When we were little, my sister Catherine and I "tended like" (pretended) for hours on end. We had great fun dreaming up this room for Cate and Ava. Catherine spent hours plotting, designing, and planning the mural, the chalkboard, stripes, and a few other things. My Granny sewed the panels, roof, and ties. Grandpa (Lynn) painted the room blue, worked on the trim, and helped with the stripes. Nana (Nancy) kept the girls and stayed up with us Christmas Eve organizing and putting the finishing touch on things. Tracie came by and painted the apple. Even though I think he thought it would never happen, Joe put up with the whole idea and and helped with the entire process from the end of October until 3 am this morning. And I put every last tiny stitch in the rest of the house (with the exception of the flowers- I ordered those from Etsy). I'm still not sure if I'm going to let them touch any of it.
BEFORE
Catherine hard at work. She swears she will never paint another rainbow again. For some reason, it was the most tedious and several times she threatened just to paint completely over it.
The reading corner and our striped "accent" wall. The word "PLAY" hangs from the ceiling.
Catherine painted the murals. I took pictures of their favorite babies and stuffed animals and framed them on the walls.
Their Christmas stuff won't usually be in the middle of the floor (though I'm sure a pile of toys will). They can go in and out through the tunnel.
The front of the playhouse. I wish I could have figured out a way for the door to open, but it doesn't. The mailbox pocket does open and they even have mail made of felt.
Ava and Cate bunnies. Cat drew these off for me. There's even a carrot in Cate's bunny purse as a secret surprise.
I'd never seen chalkboard paint before, but it's great. It really is just like a chalkboard. Cate loves to play school (I don't know where she gets her bossiness).
"Dear Cate and Ava, I left your presents in the playroom. Here's the key. Merry Christmas! Love, Santa"
Their stools. The next ones I do will NOT have stiped legs. They will be solid.
Totally worth it.
Cate loved all of her dress- up clothes and her new mirror.
Merry Christmas my Sweet Girls!P.S. Joe feels I should disclose that this should not be mentioned to Cate or Ava. He is scared to death they'll find out that we did it, not Santa, and they won't believe in Santa, so, SHHH!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Worn Out
Ava was exhausted after her school Christmas party and coming home to play with Mama Sue and Grandmama until I made it home from work. Before you feel too bad for her, she rallied and caught her second wind shortly after this footage and stayed up playing for another two hours.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
An Unusual Saturday
I spent quite an unusual day for me a couple of Saturdays ago. Anna and I drove to Jackson to meet Kathryn, Emily, and Katy. We ate lunch at one of our favorite places and I can't describe how odd it felt to have a leisurely meal with real conversations. It had been a long time since I got to spend a day with the girls and now that Emily's back in the country and my babies are a little older, I hope we do this more often. Not quite so unusual, at the end of the day, we all ended up piled on a bed talking and laughing hysterically.
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