a Christmas poem for you

Loose translation:

Something about wanting the warmth of Baby Jesus to come to his bed and his teacher telling him to ask Jesus to be in his heart and to promise to be good...

Graham is pretty great at speaking Italian in context, but he struggles with translation. I'm not so good at either one, so this is the best translation I can give you. 

Buon Natale.

Merry Christmas.

Aunt Libbey is coming to town

Aunt Libbey and Graham, August 2007

We're just over here fluffing pillows and making cookies while we wait for Aunt Libbey to arrive.

She'll be here tomorrow afternoon.

We've got quite the trip in store for her.

First up, Graham's school Christmas program on Friday.

Saturday, we'll drive to Matera where we'll spend two nights and explore the surrounding areas.

Monday, Christmas Eve, we plan to stop in Bari and visit the remains of Saint Nicholas, then drive home.

Tuesday, Christmas at the Blaine House!

Wednesday through Friday, we'll show her all the sights around Naples.

Saturday, we'll take her to Rome for one night. Not much time, but all the hotels and apartments are extremely expensive this time of year.

Sunday night, we'll come home.

Monday, New Year's Eve, we'll gear up for a party my friend is throwing and Libbey will get to see the magic of New Year's Eve in Naples!

Tuesday, we'll drive to Florence where we'll stay until Friday.

Saturday, sadly, she'll fly back to Chicago.

Whew!

How's that for someone who doesn't like to plan?

Okay, Aunt Libbey. Hurry up and get here! 

a holiday card

If the thought of actually taking the time and having the organizational skills necessary for planning holiday photos, putting them on cute cards, finding addresses, addressing envelopes,  buying stamps, and remembering to put the cards into the mail didn't make me shudder and want to run for the hills, then chances are, you, wonderful blog reader, would be on my holiday card list and you would receive a crisp and neat card from me.

 However, I like to think that my family needs me from time to time and would not like the idea of me running off to the hills. So, for the sake of sanity in the Ramblin' Fam household, I give you this in lieu of my holiday card.

Graham said, "Mom. Do you think that was the real Santa?"

"I don't know, Graham. You know how Santa has his helpers that dress up like him for pictures around this time of year. That one did look pretty real, though, huh?"

"Yes, Mom. His cheeks were really rosy."

I said, "Hey Graham, did you think that Santa was real?" I couldn't help myself. I mean, come on. Look at that beard. Geeze.

Graham said, "I don't think so. He didn't have rosy cheeks."

Meanwhile, I really wish I knew Alaina's thoughts on the matter...

Glad tidings.

Good cheer.

Happy Holidays.

peace,
the Ramblin' Fam.

9 months.

Alaina Marie Blaine.

Nine months old today.

She'd like to crawl, but she keeps slipping and going backward.

She'd also like to be able to stand on her own, but doesn't seem to have the leg muscles, yet.

She claps when you say, "Yay!"

She understands when you ask if she wants to eat, and she can do sign language for the word, "more." It looks a lot like clapping, but I like to think she understands the difference.

She prefers foods she can pick up and eat herself as opposed to being spoon-fed. 

She loves people. She smiles at everyone and holds her hand out to them.

She likes to get out and about and explore the world.

She's usually pretty content and keeps to her routine really well, but when she's bored or annoyed, she is sure to let you know with her rather loud voice. 

Her favorite thing in the world is still her brother, but the dog we are dog-sitting at the moment is coming in at a very close second. It's pretty entertaining to watch her interact with a giant yellow lab.

I can't believe she's been out in this world for nine months. I'm continuing to enjoy and savor every day with her.

She also told me that she hopes ya'll can find a reason to smile today. 

12.12.12

 My pa turns 60 today.

Since he's my very most loyal blog reader/commenter, this post is for him.

Happy, happy, happy birthday, Dad.

Feels like yesterday that I was sitting on the floor surrounded by crayons and coloring books and trying desperately to make my pictures look as good as yours.

Time flies.

Couldn't get Alaina to hold still, so she's a bit blurry. She loves attention from her big bro.

Enjoy celebrating your life today, and keep on rockin in the free world.

re-treat

In high school and college, I had the privilege of attending a number of spiritual retreats put on by the Jesuits. During those retreats, I would escape and search my soul and connect with people and grow. They usually only lasted a weekend, but they always felt longer. When I returned home from these retreats, I'd feel as though I had been gone forever. I'd also feel high on hope and joy and love and exhaustion. Many retreaters referred to this feeling as a "spiritual high."

When I got home last night from my girls weekend in Toulouse, I told Tony that I was experiencing one of these highs. It feels good. Really good.

We didn't do any structured prayer or reflection or sharing time during our girls weekend. But we did cut loose and laugh
 

and eat

 

 and drink

 

 and shop

 
 
 

 and eat

 



and goof around

 

and walk without strollers



 and eat

 

and enjoy all the wonderfulness of France preparing for Christmas.




 

We stayed up 'til dawn and giggled like teenagers and even broke out a few dance moves. We had fun. Pure fun. My cheeks still ache from smiling so much. Best of all? We bonded and continued to build upon friendships that I hope will last a lifetime.

I know from experience that this high won't last. I'll slowly come down and feel normal again. That's just life. But I also know from experience that this retreat helped me grow. It gave me confidence. It stamped my soul with goodness. The memories will always make me smile and laugh.

Thanks, girls. It was just what I needed.

Toulouse

Did I mention that I'm flying to France tomorrow?

To Toulouse?

To the Christmas market?

With no children?

No husband?

Just girlfriends?

I must have forgotten.

During all our planning, I thought I was only dreaming.

It still feels unreal except for the fact that I just printed out a real, live airplane boarding pass.

So, it must be real.

Right?

If I am in fact dreaming, then please refrain from waking me.

Please?

I will be sure to eat a crepe for you.

You're welcome.