Holidays

2019 is wrapping up, along with all that means. 


Among other things, it means that Caleb's speech clinicians can no longer be amused by his aphorisms. 


His clinician this semester was particularly good--and brave too, as she brought in a little trampoline for him and various games that involved throwing things, along with shaving cream to smear on the table and write letters in.  (He wuved her.)


I tuned in to the audio just in time to see shaving cream splattering everywhere and the clinicians saying, "You're messy!  I bet your mom has a hard time keeping the house clean with you around!"  Caleb agreed that our house gets messy, and added, "But there's a special day called Saturday, when we clean up." 

Presents are bought and wrapped and either waiting by the door to be delivered, or nestled under our tree.  Somewhere among the boxes is Ears, in a secret new outfit tailored by Ada, waiting to be released on Christmas morning. 


Hopefully Caleb will be appreciative, since Ada's sewing skills so far outstrip his own.  I found him stapling fabric together to fit around Ears one day, and he told me it was "man sewing." 

I'm glad to have a break from driving into town every week for speech.  I'm guessing Lizzy and Caleb have mixed feelings about it.  We did have an elating grand finale ride home for the last one, when we approached the railroad crossing as a train was approaching.  They both begged me not to detour so they could watch the train, and I pulled up just as the safety arm was coming down.  Caleb fervently uttered, "Ohhhh, my favorite part of my life!"

My friend agreed to take these pics of us at sunset--apparently one of the few times of day Caleb understands.  One day at breakfast, he looked out the window and said, "Look, a sunset in the morning!"

Thankfully, now my anxieties have transitioned from school days to gift deliveries.  I'm looking forward to a few weeks off and hoping to enjoy the family time regardless of all of our sometimes-provoking imperfections.  I'm avoiding thinking of the transition back in January, and hoping I'm Relaxed Mom instead of Drill Sergeant Mom over Christmas break.

I came across this quote in an article recently:

When I understand that everything happening to me is to make me more Christlike, it resolves a great deal of anxiety.

I hope that's where my mind goes this Christmas when someone is whiny and my house is a mess (in between those special days called Saturday).

After all, my suffering be big or small, this admonition from another article rings true:

When you suffer, think about the people watching you suffer, and what they're learning about Jesus.

When my children see me starting to twitch, I want them to learn that the Baby in the manger is worth magnifying no matter what life throws at us.

Grandpa interrupting school stopping by to drop off bagel bites and chocolate milk.

Caleb is taking the time off as an opportunity to spend more time with Ziggy the zebra puppet outside of school.  He has made a very nice bed for Ziggy next to his own bed, and tucks him in at night (Ada pointed out that poor Ears is probably jealous).  And then sometimes he sings him a lullaby:  Go to sleeeeep, Zig-gyyyyyy....


Silent night, all is calm.