Halloween was saved.

D'arcy came home on Wednesday saying, "Mom, Halloween has been postponed until Friday because of bad weather."
I then made them do their usual 20 minutes of chores.  She picked up her room and then came downstairs to work on our bookshelf.  I told her she needed to organize the books by color instead of just shoving them in there.  We always do this so most of them were already done, but she immediately started crying, REAL overwhelmed tears.
I say, "D'arcy breath out and calm down.  This really won't take you that long."
She says, "I'm just STRESSED.  First, they move Halloween, and now I have to do all this work."
I still made her do the work, but I was reminded that growing up is hard.  You learn that life includes a lot of work and that plans we are excited about can get messed up.

We ended up Trick or Treated on Halloween anyway because we had a funeral to attend on Friday.  For all the hubbalu of the night before, you would think D'arcy would have been happy.  It was raining, though, and the only place we really went was the Fountain Square Theatre.  In my opinion, they got plenty of candy.  D'arcy wasn't impressed.

On Friday afternoon, just as D'arcy is descending from the school bus, I get a call from D'arcy's very sweet teacher.  He said that when he asked the kids in his class what their plans for Halloween were D'arcy shared that she would not get to go trick or treating because Stephen and I had to go to this viewing.  He said she was holding back tears and it broke his heart.  He and his wife were having friends over to trick or treat and would D'arcy like to go trick or treating with his daughter (who goes to school with D'arcy)?

I asked him if D'arcy had mentioned that we had, in fact, gone trick or treating the night before.  Yes, she had, but she had mentioned that we weren't able to get very much in the way of candy.

Life is tragic, or in D'arcy's case ALMOST tragic.  We dressed her up and dropped her off at the party.

Did I mention she wanted to be a zombie princess?  Julian was a Ninja and told us he would protect us from the zombie apocalypse.

Sadly, there are no close ups of Schroeder. We sort of hand made his costume. He helped me pick out just the right purple pants and the children's second hand store. We sprayed his hair black. He was so happy, but not happy enough to sit still for a close up.

On Friday a thief, on Sunday a King.

He has cheated
Hell and seated
Us above the fall
In desperate places
He paid our wages
One time once and for all

Pause for a moment and let that sink in.

I started with something spiritually meaningful before I digress into pictures of Easter outfits, etc.  It's been awhile since I've done a "proper" photo shoot with my kids.  Proper means they are dressed in outfits that I picked, looking as clean as they come, and standing relatively still for me to get more traditional portraits.    My mother-in-law and I had fun working on their outfits together.  I initially had no grand idea that they would be so coordinated.  I saw D'arcy's dress in Target and loved it.  It passed her sparkle test. I found Schroeder's shirt in his closet, a hand me down from my cousin's son.  Who knew that they would blend so well?  Schroeder wasn't the biggest fan of his tie.  He told me he prefers bow ties.  He has one from a couple of Easters ago, and choose to wear it with his pajamas the other night.  

Despite this being a "proper" photo shoot, I knew from experience that I had a max of thirty minutes to get what I could before we potentially all dissolved into grumpiness.   It's hard to be the photographer and the mother.  My instinct as a mother is to say, "STAND UP STRAIGHT!", but my experience as a photographer is that photos are best when you goof around with the subject.  All Maggie wanted to do was dance and sing and cheese.  I had to give Schroeder a happy jelly bean pill before he would pose for me at all.  We turned on Gagnam style on my phone at the end.  I love the way Maggie sings, "Hey, sexy lady."  

I hate to say that I didn't do much in the way of reading the Easter story to my kids this year.  I did get down the Resurrection Eggs which they spent an afternoon playing with as a group.  A couple of the pieces were initially misplaced and throughout the week a kid would find one and bring it down to me.  One child came down and said, "Hey mom, this goes to the Resolution Eggs."  Another said, "Hey mom, this goes to the Revelation Eggs."  Not altogether inappropriate names.  

The first year we moved into this house (2011), I hid an egg per kid in each downstairs room and we had a little hunt.  Sometime in June 2012, Julian and D'arcy demanded to know why I had neglected to do this for that year's Easter.  I told them to remind me at a more appropriate moment as I'm not really planning nine months ahead.  All month they've been letting me know that Easter was approaching.  So I bought three bags of candy (one of which I had to replace because I ate most of it before Easter arrived) and some plastic eggs and we had a little indoor hunt in our house which they all got a big kick out of.  I'm teaching them to appreciate the little things by being a low key (aka lame or lazy) holiday planner.  

We had a Merry Christmas.

These first two pictures have a little story.  One afternoon when the older kids were away at piano lesson, Schreoder and Maggie Lu found both baby Jesus', one from our advent calendar and one from our little people nativity set.  Schroeder said, "Hey mom, look these two babies are sisters.  We are going to play Jesus.  We're going to love our enemies."

We had a low key Christmas Eve so we decided to take the kids to a Christmas Eve Service at the Episcopal church on the circle downtown.  I got the start time wrong so we showed up at 5:30 instead of 5 which I'm so, so thankful for.  The kids did pretty well for the half hour it lasted, but I don't think we could have kept them happy for a full hour.  We headed over to Daddy's office and grabbed some hot chocolate before we went home and watched Charlie Brown.  

Really proud of my kids for letting us light our Advent candles and read a Bible passage before opening gifts.  I think the first gift was finally opened at about 9:00am.  

Happy Christmas Everyone!

Julian's mom (tap tap tap), is Santa real?

Our official position is this: Our kids do not get gifts from Santa, but I don't mind them enjoying the jolly old man.  That's why you may have seen the picture of Maggie sitting on Santa's lap at the Fletcher Place Holiday Kid's party.  She jumped right on his lap, put her little hand on her chest, and said, "I'm Maggie."  Our kids also received letters from Santa directly from North Pole, AL today thanks to my friend Melissa in San Antonio.  My little ones ripped theirs open and enjoyed having me read them.
Stephen is always eager to remind them that the "Corporate Demon" is in fact a figment of imagination, and I'm always encouraging them to enjoy and believe in him if they want.  We BOTH encourage them to NOT destroy other little children's dreams and declare Santa isn't real.  Julian hasn't been listening to that advice.  Yesterday, I was working at the school's book fair.  Once I was finished, I headed to Julian's classroom to pick him up.  Julian was excited to see me and dragged me over to help him pick up the blocks he and a few other boys had been playing with at the end of the day.  One of the little boys tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Julian's mom.  He then proceeded to say, "Well, Julian told me something while we were at our desks today."  This little boy's lip begins to quiver.  "He told me that Santa wasn't real (Julian says behind me "He isn't!") , and I need to ask you if he was right?"
I asked him if he believed and if Santa brought him presents. "Yes."  Then I told him not to worry about what silly Julian says.  He seemed relieved.  I'm wondering if I need to send an apology to all the parents in his class.
Last year, I blogged about why I can't pull Santa off even if I wanted to.  Queue (or is it cue?) 2012 example.  I pulled from the attic a Dora doll complete with her baby brother and sister.  D'arcy received this doll the year she became a big sister, and I put it up in the attic until Maggie was old enough to enjoy it.  I shoved the bag it was in into my locker until I could take it upstairs.  Maggie must have been attempting to pull out some of my shoes to wear when she happened upon the bag.  She  excitedly came into the living room exclaiming that she had found "her babies!"   I grabbed them, and put them back up in the locker and she had a bit of a meltdown.  We worked through it, and I thought all was well until naptime.  I told her to grab her baby to take with her to bed.  She ran to my locker, pointed up to the top shelf, and told me her babies were up there.  Sigh.  At least I know she'll like it.

Christmas is always better when no one is rushed to the hospital.

Have I told you this Christmas story? About ten years ago on Christmas morning, Stephen and I were sitting in his parents old basement along with the rest of his family opening our forgettable Christmas presents when something unforgettable happened. Someone had received an item in one of those impossible to open plastic shell cases and stephen's dad decided to open it up with his fisherman's helper cutco knife. The knife went up along the side of the case and then back down and straight into his gut. A few moments went by before anyone knew what had happened, but then his face turned super white. We paused Christmas to carry him up the stairs to the car and Stephen's brother and mother took him to the hospital. No major damage done. He was back home in time for lunch. Now I can tell the story each year and get a good laugh without feeling guilty.
Here are some shots from this year's Williams family Christmas...a year in which no one stabbed themselves.

Why doesn't Santa come to your house?

If my kids fully understood the reality of the situation they would answer, "Because my mom can't pull him off."

This is why I couldn't pull santa off if I tried.  Last night, I put all the kids' presents in a box to take with me tonight to a friends house to wrap.  She is having a crafty party and wrapping might be the extent of my craftiness.  I fell asleep on the couch while Stephen was watching a movie, and then I stumbled upstairs to bed.  Julian went downstairs this morning and all of a sudden I realized I had left that box on the couch.  I jumped out of bed (this never happens) and ran down the stairs.  Socks and stairs and rapid movement aren't a good combo and I almost fell down on the way.  Julian was in the dining room and I asked him accusingly what he'd been up to.  Usually, he tries to sneak some TV before school, but thankfully we'd opened our first Lego Advent Calendar door last night and he was playing with his little robber man.  I proceeded to grab the box and hide it under some paper towels in our laundry room (no one but me ever goes in there).  Christmas surprises saved...for now.

Welcome Christmas!

I've been secretly listening to Christmas music for weeks, but now I can come out of hiding and play it loud and proud without haters (including one husband) scoffing at my early merrymaking.  Let Christmas begin. 

Happy "Thaks"giving

I asked my kids on Sunday what they were thankful for, and then I asked if we should be sad for the people who have less than us.  That second question doesn't have a simple answer.  But my heart is sad for people who have heavy hearts tonight...because life has been hard or disappointing this year. And at the same time, I'm rejoicing for those who are celebrating things they have waited so very long for.  Tonight, i'm just so thankful for people to cry and laugh with.  And, on that note, Happy "Thaks"giving.     

Becca's beautiful hands.