Monday, December 19, 2011


*can't believe they're both smiling... actually, can't believe Wendy even got near the guy

Wendy & I agree that the Santa at the Brea Mall is probably the really real one. He's amazing. Like the guy on the original "Miracle on 24th Street" amazing. On top of it being kinda weird that I just stick my kids on some complete strangers lap, Wendy is majorly shy with stragers. Especially men. ESPECIALLY if they have facial hair or visible tattoos ( and I'm gonna try to keep her that way, at least til the end of her teenage years). But the Santa at the Brea Mall is so good... not only does he completely look the part, but he really knows how to talk to the kids. Just look at her face. I love it.

Thursday, December 15, 2011


*photo credit: Mossi Watene. Thanks Mos!

This year, Ryan and I were asked if we would be Mary and Joseph in the live nativity our church puts on for the community. It was a pretty big commitment, but apparently they were pretty desperate (I guess the 1st 3 couples had said yes then backed out). I thought, "No big deal. I'll sit in a stable and hold a baby doll." Not so much. When I was practicing my "lines" and cheesy acting skills (or lack thereof), practicing riding a donkey side-saddle, bare back, I realized why a lot of people had backed out. Struggling not to fall off the donkey who was spooked by the white lines on the asphalt of the parking lot, I thought, "OOOkay. Nope. I'm done." But I'm glad I didn't back out.

We had over 2,000 people show up to watch the 18 minute story of Christmas. It was such a touching experience to try to portray such a person and share such a sacred message with so many people. Standing in the rafters before each performance, I had a couple minutes to myself. I tried to really think about how Mary must have felt. It helped me step away from the craziness of December and the Brea Mall and Target and traffic and just focus on what really matters. I was so humbled by the people who came up to me after and told me that I had helped them. Plus, I didn't fall off the donkey even once, soooo mission accomplished.

If you have a second...

I love how Jeffrey R. Holland puts the first Christmas into perspective in his article, "“Maybe Christmas Doesn’t Come from a Store”", in the Ensign magazine, Dec. 1977, 63–65. He writes:
" We need to remember the very plain scene, even the poverty, of a night devoid of tinsel or wrapping or goods of this world. Only when we see that single, sacred, unadorned object of our devotion—the Babe of Bethlehem—will we know why “tis the season to be jolly” and why the giving of gifts is so appropriate.
I have recently begun to think more often of Joseph, that strong, silent, almost unknown man who must have been more worthy than any other mortal man to be the guiding foster father of the living Son of God. It was Joseph selected from among all men who would teach Jesus to work. It was Joseph who taught him the books of the law. It was Joseph who, in the seclusion of the shop, helped him begin to understand who he was and ultimately what he was to become. I believe any father would have done any honorable thing in this world, and mortgaged any future they had, to make sure their wife had the clean sheets, the sterile utensils, the attentive nurses, and the skilled doctors who brought forth their new babe. If she or that child had needed special care, I believe any father would have ransomed their very life to get it. I compare those feelings with what Joseph must have felt as he moved through the streets of a city not his own, with not a friend or kinsman in sight, nor anyone willing to extend a helping hand. In these very last and most painful hours of her “confinement,” Mary had ridden or walked approximately 100 miles from Nazareth in Galilee to Bethlehem in Judea. Surely Joseph must have wept at her silent courage. Now, alone and unnoticed, they had to descend from human company to a stable, a grotto full of animals, there to bring forth the Son of God.
I wonder what emotions Joseph might have had as he cleared away the dung and debris. I wonder if he felt the sting of tears as he hurriedly tried to find the cleanest straw and hold the animals back. I wonder if he wondered: “Could there be a more unhealthy, a more disease-ridden, a more despicable circumstance in which a child could be born? Is this a place fit for a king? Should the mother of the Son of God be asked to enter the valley of the shadow of death in such a foul and unfamiliar place as this? Is it wrong to wish her some comfort? Is it right He should be born here?” But I am certain Joseph did not mutter and Mary did not wail. They knew a great deal and did the best they could. Perhaps these parents knew even then that in the beginning of his mortal life, as well as in the end, this baby son born to them would have to descend beneath every human pain and disappointment. He would do so to help those who also felt they had been born without advantage.
I’ve thought of Mary, too, this most favored mortal woman in the history of the world, who as a mere child received an angel who uttered to her those words that would change the course not only of her own life but also that of all human history: “Hail, thou virgin, who art highly favoured of the Lord. The Lord is with thee; for thou art chosen and blessed among women.” (JST, Luke 1:28.) The nature of her spirit and the depth of her preparation were revealed in a response that shows both innocence and maturity: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word.” (Luke 1:38.) It is here I stumble, here that I grasp for the feelings a mother has when she knows she has conceived a living soul, feels life quicken and grow within her womb, and carries a child to delivery. At such times fathers stand aside and watch, but mothers feel and never forget. Again, I’ve thought of Luke’s careful phrasing about that holy night in Bethlehem: “The days were accomplished that she should be delivered.“And she brought forth her firstborn son, and [she] wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and [she] laid him in a manger.” (Luke 2:6–7; italics added.) Those brief pronouns trumpet in our ears that, second only to the child himself, Mary is the chiefest figure, the regal queen, mother of mothers—holding center stage in this grandest of all dramatic moments. And those same pronouns also trumpet that, save for her beloved husband, she was very much alone. I have wondered if this young woman, something of a child herself, here bearing her first baby, might have wished her mother, or an aunt, or her sister, or a friend, to be near her through the labor. Surely the birth of such a son as this should command the aid and attention of every midwife in Judea! We all might wish that someone could have held her hand, cooled her brow, and when the ordeal was over, given her rest in crisp, cool linen.
But it was not to be so. With only Joseph’s inexperienced assistance, she herself brought forth her firstborn son, wrapped him in the little clothes she had knowingly brought on her journey, and perhaps laid him on a pillow of hay. Then on both sides of the veil a heavenly host broke into song. “Glory to God in the highest,” they sang, “and on earth, peace among men of good will.” (Luke 2:14, Phillips Translation.) But except for heavenly witnesses, these three were alone: Joseph, Mary, the baby to be named Jesus. At this focal point of all human history, a point illuminated by a new star in the heavens revealed for just such a purpose, probably no other mortal watched—none but a poor young carpenter, a beautiful virgin mother, and silent stabled animals who had not the power to utter the sacredness they had seen. Shepherds would soon arrive and later, wise men from the East. Later yet the memory of that night would bring Santa Claus and Frosty and Rudolph—and all would be welcome. But first and forever there was just a little family, without toys or trees or tinsel. With a baby—that’s how Christmas began. It is for this baby that we shout in chorus: “Hark! the herald angels sing Glory to the newborn king! … Mild he lays his glory by, Born that man no more may die: Born to raise the sons of earth, Born to give them second birth.'"


Friday, December 9, 2011

7 Months

Harvey at 7 Months:
  • weight: 23lbs 2oz (97th percentile)
  • length: 29inches (95th percentile)
  • wearing size 12 - 18 months... at 7 months! So much for all the 6 - 12 month winter clothes.
  • is breaking my back, for real. My lower back has been mad at Harvey (and at me) for a couple weeks now. I've been trying hard to focus on lifting with my legs (which is kinda hard to do when you're leaning over the railing of a crib).
  • a month of firsts:
  • 1st (and 2nd) tooth
  • 1st real food: rice cerial, sweet potatoes, avocado, bananas (LOVES sweet potatoes)
  • started sitting up at about 6 1/2 months (can't get into sitting position by himself, but will stay there)
  • does this weird head butt-y thing in his high chair then cracks up when I do it back
  • likes to use my chin as a teething ring. I would have NEVER let Wendy put my chin in her mouth (oh, the germs), but I guess I'm a little more laid back with #2. He gnaws on my chin while I laugh, then he laughs. I turn my head back and forth to cut off his voice and he cracks up. If I'm ever kissing his chubby cheeks he whips his head around to find my chin. I guess I do it a lot because I even caught Wendy acting this out with one of her baby dolls. I know it sounds kinda weird, but it touched my heart to see her wanting to play the roll of mommy.